𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐬

~Her~

Breathe in.

Breath out.

His eyes snapped open, taking in the all-to-familiar bloody scene. The pulsing throb of his hands was a pain he liked. A pain he craved.

His darkened eyes danced all over the satisfying vision of lifeless bodies around him. His lip twitched upwards but fell as quickly as it came.

No matter how much he had done this...it would never get old.

To kill.

To take a life was almost too exhilarating for him.

His bloodied tattooed hands took out a match as one of the buff men that surrounded him took out the gasoline, drenching the bodies.

As the reds and yellows of the flames mixed to make a vibrant orange, he dropped the match into the pool of slaughtered bodies.

The chaos of the unruly fire reflected in his sapphire eyes. He turned around as the smell of ash hit his nose. His footsteps were heavy and taunting, sure to intimidate every single of the dangerous men that worked for him.

The stoic scowl that was permanently etched onto his face was deadly yet flaunted those dark pink full lips in the most mind-twisting way.

If it wasn't the way he carried himself or the aura of dominance, then it was his build.

The chiseled jawline that could draw blood if you were to touch it, and the defined muscles that peeked out from his clothing and fit him to a tee. His towering height stood at 6'6 and just seemed to fit his level of power. The jet-black hair was darker than ebony and matched the endless ink-work on his sure-smooth skin that was dangerously pale from the lack of sunlight he got. It just made him more menacing and unearthly.

Only the reincarnation of the devil would have bright blue eyes, limitless tattoos that laid on his strong-solid body, jet-black hair, and pale skin. He truly had no right to be that attractive.

His cold looks could kill and he took it to his advantage.

He trekked the bloodstained tile and outside where the lively buzz of New York City greeted him. He grimaced at the intense sun which made a deep chuckle erupt from a presence next to him.

His eyes flashed with annoyance as he looked at the source of the laugh.

Leo Orion Sallow. 24 years old and still a kid at heart.

Saffron and honey streaks through his voluminous hair that went along with that straight nose and pouty lips. His eyes were dark and romantic in a shade of chocolate-russet. His cheekbones high and cold as well as his eye-catching jawline.

He always looked to find the light in all the anarchy even if it was deemed impossible. Don't be fooled by that charming personality, because he was the right-hand man of the most dangerous person on earth for a reason.

He could gouge out your eyeballs and slit your throat without remorse or so much as a blink and his oh-so drool-worthy body matched.

Through all the jokes, blood, and scowls, he's the closest thing Noctifer had to a family.

They were like brothers inside and out. They grew up together and knew each other's deepest and darkest sins.

"Fuck off Sallow," Noctifer growled as he put on the Armani sunglasses. His voice husky-deep, yet toneless and smoky.

"Oh no, Camy! Did someone piss in your cheerios again!?" Leo's thick velvet voice mocked in a joking manner.

His jaw locked at the nickname he called him. He resented that nickname.