The Secret of his Touch.

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╰─▗ ▘➤𖥸 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓮𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓽 𝓞𝓯 𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝓣𝓸𝓾𝓬𝓱.

✦ ╮ "Your tattoos are beautiful. Why do you always cover them up with gloves?" Her question was harmless-curiosity laced in her tone, unaware of the storm she had just unleashed within his mind. The moment the words left her mouth, something inside him snapped. His eyes flashed with something dark-rage, raw and violent, surging through him like wildfire. All he saw was red. "No, they are not." His voice was steady, eerily calm, but the quiet was sharper than any scream. "They are anything but what you see them as. And you only get to say that because you know nothing. So pathetic and naive. I can't even laugh." His fists clenched, knuckles turning white, his body trembling with barely contained fury. "Instead of being so nosy and reckless? You better pull your head out of your ass and use it for once. But if you don't want to, then be my guest. Just don't blame anyone the moment you have to deal with shitty consequences, you could have spared yourself from." Not a single emotion flickered in his eyes, but his entire body radiated hostility, a silent warning to step back. Yet, there she stood, refusing to back down, digging into secrets he had buried for a reason.

What was he supposed to do when this one insufferable being refused to stay out of his orbit-out of his personal space?
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