Dancing With The Devil
- Reads 1,141
- Votes 199
- Parts 21
MatureOngoing1h 25m
Last published Wed, Jan 20, 2021
Do you know what this is?" He asked me, the flame casting a dark shadow over his god-like features.
I stumbled back. Scared.
"It- its a flame, fire" I spoke my voice quivering.
The flame reflected in his cold eyes. Not warming them at all.
He brought the flame closer.
"Yes, and it's beautiful...mesmerising almost" he spoke, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine.
As the angelic mixture of blue and orange flickered Around.
"But it's also dangerous" he spoke following the flame with his eyes.
I let out a shaky breath.
"You see Avianna, I'm a lot like fire"
I felt his cold eyes wander over my weak stature.
" I can be beautiful, everything you've ever wanted"
"Ivan?" The word barely escaping my mouth.
He took a step closer to me. Our faces barely an inch apart. The bright flickering frame carving out our silhouettes in the dark.
I felt his breath near my ear.
"But the problem with fire is, if you stand too close you might get burnt."
_______________________________________________
❝ Trust me, she knew who she was dancing with the whole time. She just chose to see the good in everybody,
It was her best aspect...but possibly her worst distruction.❞ - C
All Rights Reserved
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There's this silence between us that stretches longer than it should, and it wraps around my chest like a weighted blanket. My throat tightens. I stare at him like I'm trying to memorise the face of someone who shouldn't exist. A dream made real. My lips part before I can stop myself. "Were you sent by my dad to take care of me?" The question hangs in the air, trembling like the last leaf in autumn. Aiden's gaze softens. His lips tug into the gentlest smile I've ever seen. It's the kind of smile that could mend broken wings. "No" he whispers. "I volunteered." The words hit harder than I expect. Like a punch wrapped in silk. I gasp, air leaves me in a rush I can't reclaim. But before I can fully process what he's just said, he takes a step closer. His fingers ghost over my cheek, brushing away a tear I didn't realise had fallen. And then-he kisses me painfully slow. His hand cups the back of my neck, anchoring me to a moment I never want to end. And just when I think it's over, he pulls away just enough to look at me. His thumb traces the damp trail of tears down my cheek. He doesn't say anything. He just leans in again, and kisses them away. One by one. My tears. My pain. My silence. All kissed away by a boy who didn't come to save me because someone sent him. He came because he chose to.
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