Weakling: (Romantasy enemies-to-lovers)

* * *
And then he was striding up to her, a suicidal man walking into his fire, trying to ignore the parting of her lip, the widening of her eyes, the pale skin the towel hadn't had the mercy to cover.

Jules the killer was gone. Now it was Jules the killed, standing before his murderer, backing her into the wall and slamming his hand over her, pinning her into him.

Trying to feel in charge.

In control, around the girl who could unwind him like a string, who could trip him over in a blink and a hot breath.

And now here his pathetic attempt came, to point the gun she held at him, back at her.

"You called me a dog once. But you should look at yourself, Madelyn."

Eye to eye. Breaths tangling together. Her figure, driving him insane in a way that left him mangled.

"Crawling after me." Him, despairingly crawling after her silhouette of gold. "Begging for me." Him, begging for her in his nightmares and daydreams. "Chasing after me." Him, hopelessly chasing after the sweet scent of her hair, her passionate embraces.

He leaned down lower, trying to show how small she was before him. How weak.

He leaned down, because the glare Madelyn was pointing at him was melting him into the weakest weakling in all the lands.

"Do you know how pathetic you look?"

Oh, he truly looked pathetic.

* * *