The Glorious Flame (#2)

Chapter 25

Rouhem

      He was a tameless beast as he strode after Inferno. The true creature beneath his skin was quiet and less demanding as Rouhem had finally released a bit of savagery on his most recent victim. 

     Inferno's relatives were left in chaos as they struggled to understand how a captive got free under constant surveillance. But that was his farthest concern then. 

     As a tornado, he tore through their bedroom and into the bathroom. There she was, a flurry of cruel curses and brutal beauty. The skin around her neck was flush with rage. Inferno was not one to be bested without great consequence. She cleaned her wound with more harshness than required. "Where are the fucking bandaids?" She demanded, slamming through the cabinets. 

     Rouhem nearly lost it when she realized her desired item was at the highest possible location. Inferno was inches off from reaching it, but they both knew damn well she was not in the mood for asking. She crossed her arms in impatience. 

      His own temper cooled down. Rouhem smirked, completely disregarding their previous encounter. With few, long steps, he was behind her in seconds. He said nothing as he reached above her, allowing their skin to brush as he did so. She sighed, though it was most likely unintentional. 

     Removing the material, he made quick of covering her wound, which would not take long to heal. She turned immediately, scoffing at his face. "Covered in blood, I hope Alters are immune to STDs. Stay there." He was surprised when she returned with a white cloth. 

     He was frozen as she wiped down his face and chest. His eyes were glued to the graceful carve of her hands and fingers. There was a tension in her brow that only intensified her beauty, if at all possible. Her touch--though not skin to skin--flew him to wonderland, where he was in a constant, wild chase. Of what? That was the game. 

     "Much better," she whispered, throwing the material in the dirty basket. This was then when he finally noted her attire. He recalled to the first night they met and noticed how this mysterious disease had made a subtle, physical differences. Though this never stole from her unquestionable allure. 

     His eyes were unable to remain obediant as they travelled south, kissing and caressing every detail with his eyes. The rush of his blood melted with desire. Desire for a woman who would most likely either murder him or murder him. Rouhem wondered to the world how a woman so perfect could fall into his lap? It certainly could not have been because he deserved it. "Better?" 

     Her eyes were trained on his, weak and steady all in one. She swallowed and nodded. His eyes traced the soft curved of het neck. An ach began in his gums just at the image. 

      Rouhem was at a point in his life: fuck it. Without warning, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled until the softness of her body clashed with the hard force of his. Her eyes widened and he was pleased at her lack of indignance. "Just once," his husky voice deepened with a built-up desire. He leaned in to inhale her lovely scent. The hints of rage and desire and sadness and yearning threw him for a loop. 

     Her hand came up and she placed it over his mouth with tenderness that confused the hell out of him. "Rouhem, we can't." Her palm clamped down more. "We shouldn't." The dubious tone there magnified his hope. 

     His hold tightened. He was close to begging. No woman had ever rendered him so weak. 

     "So you don't want to?" 

     She paused. 

     There were two outcomes that ended in two places: 

     The bed. 

     Six feet under.