#mightjustbeobsessed

Drip, drip, drip.

The constant noise does nothing to dull the incessant ringing in my ears. No other sound disturbs the heavy presence in the air, stealing all remnants of warmth, if there was any to begin with.

My breath stills as I try to focus, something akin to fear chains my feet to the ground where I stand, preventing me from moving.

Dread wraps around my spine when I call her name and hear no answer.

My hand trembles as I nudge the parted door even further. The edges are beaten and dented as if someone forced their way in, and it’s quiet, too quiet. Cold sweat trickles down my back as my breathing hitches, the smell is horrid.

The closer I walk the more my lunch threatens reappear, and I have to put a gloved hand to my nose to keep from retching. An unnecessary amount of blood is splattered along the wall and floor, trailing along the mattress in the center of the room.

I turn and kick the bathroom door so hard I can hear the distinct ‘crunch’ of the wall behind it caving in. ensuring that I- we are alone. A pit forms low in my stomach, my brain trying to keep from disassociating as it takes an excruciating amount of time to turn back and face her.

At the edge of the bed, the body of my poor, beautiful sister lays a few feet away from me. Her lifeless eyes bore into my soul, taking hold of my heart and squeezing. Blood covers a large portion of her pale, drained skin. Her arms are bent at an unnatural angle, and I can see the ropes tearing into her wrists from where stand.

Her hair is in a disarray and stuck to her face. The gaping wounds on her neck and breasts are covered in a horrifying amount of body fluid and crimson, still dripping onto the floor in a slow drip, drip, drip taunt.

Her wide, dull eyes stare at me. Forcing me to come to terms with what I’m seeing. She’s been maliciously violated and butchered, left to rot like a fucking animal.

A guttural cry rips from my throat as my lungs struggle to refill with oxygen. My entire body seizing with pure, cold, denial that my sister is dead.

I drag my feet to her broken frame, softly lifting her head into my lap like I would a delicate doll. Tears blur my vision as her cool skin rests against my rigid hands. Who would do something like this?

I peel the sticky hair from her face and take my time really looking at her, because I know it’ll be the last.

Her defined cheekbones, the fading tint in her eyebrows and lashes, her once unblemished skin now decorated with bruises and cuts that match the purple nail polish she always wore. I trace my shaking fingertips over the gash just above her right eye, down the bruised slope of her broken nose, and finally, over her large, vacant eyes.

My entire body racks and tremors with the sobs I refuse to let out. I hug her close to me as I gently rock us back and forth, her tied arms falling limp behind her. I hold her so tight her bones threaten to crush under the pressure, why bother? There’s not much left to break now. Her unmoving body feels heavier and heavier as I brace myself.

“You know what you have to do,” A voice whispers in my ear, and a mental lock clicks in place.

I startle back, whipping my head in the direction I think the voice came from. But when I look, there’s no one there. My eyes glaze over as thoughts race in my mind. My breathing stutters as I come to a clear realization of what that voice —- my mind is telling me.

Rage slowly creeps into my vision, replacing my sorrow in a hurried rush until it’s all I can feel, all I can taste. All traces of what could have been disappear in the blink of an eye, and a stranger slips into my body like a wolf in sheep’s skin.

Numbness coats my body in a different form of torture, as if holding my abused sister in my arms isn’t enough.

When my senses finally come back to me, I rush to turn around as everything I ate during the day forces its way out of my body. My mouth salivates as I jerk uncontrollably, and I have to put a hand to my stomach to ease the painful clench of my abs. When I’m done, I grab a shirt to wipe my mouth before crawling back towards the body.

Ripping the ropes around her wrists loose, my hands aren’t mine as I position her into a sleeping position and start preparing. I nearly stumble over broken glass as I abruptly come to a full stand, haphazardly trying to get myself together. And just barely escaping a panic attack.

The sharp sting of winter flows into the room, providing a chilling difference to my body temperature. I take a long, shaken deep breath and catch myself in the small mirror that is somehow still hanging above her smashed desk.

Dried blood streaks across my face and leather jacket from where I was clutching her, my hair is mussed and frizzy, and a sheen of sweat sticks to every inch of my body.

The moonlight reflecting off of a shiny surface catches my eye, distracting me from appearance. I squint, trying to get a closer look at the pointy tip of a blade that glints back at me — It’s covered in blood all the way down to its hilt, with a small soaked piece of fabric wrapped around the handle.

I carefully lift the heavy blade and peel back the drenched cloth. My head tilts as I try to read the red-stained initials embroidered on the handkerchief. ‘R.S.’

What the hell?

The terrifying weapon is heavy and lethal in the palm of my hand. Cursive figures are dutifully carved near the base of the hilt in a language I don’t understand. I quickly wipe off the blood and sheath it beneath one of the pockets in my jacket, along with the handkerchief.

I grab and load up everything I need to survive on my own, checking her work desk for anything valuable and packing it. I’m going to need all of the information I can get if this is going to work.

I won’t stand idly by and let my sister be murdered without consequence. She was the only person I had in this world and I’ll be damned if she dies without punishment.

They left her here for me to find, and if a reaction is what they wanted, a reaction they will have.

With one last look at our life, I stand in the doorway of what we called home. Memories of her smile bring tears to my eyes as I hold a lit match in front of me, staring into the flame like it will give me all of the answers I need. I let it fall from my fingers and turn away without watching the raging flames consume the one person that held my life together.

And whoever committed, constructed this unforgivable crime will fucking burn with her.

——

“There’s another job tomorrow if you want it.” Hiwaki states from behind his desk.

My knife flings into into the center of the target directly above his head as he ducks into his drawer to collect my pay.

“No.” I don’t work tomorrow. He knows this.

He drops the small duffel bag onto the table, putting a hand on top as I go to reach for it. My eyebrow lifts and I step back, giving him the go to speak his mind.

“I think you should go, Q. The man you’ll be in charge of knew your sister.” He looks deep into my eyes, searching for something I don’t care to give him.

Hiwaki is an older man with salt and pepper hair, he’s my boss and the middle man of the ‘company’ I work for. He’s also the only person besides myself that knows about my sister, and how I found her that night.

He was her boss at one point, and he’s my boss now. So he knows my name isn’t real, but doesn’t question me about it.

Since that night six months ago, I’ve been tracing my sister’s steps back from the beginning, and this is where she started. Killing for Tony Hiwaki, in the roguish city of Wovren, the city of no rules — literally.

The law enforcement here is non existent. The participation in illegal activities is basically an average workday. It’s why I keep my knives on me at all times, and have little to no trouble killing my assignments on a day-to day basis.

That aside, it wasn’t difficult to get to this point, she trained me in combat from the time I had enough strength to lift a knife at the age of eight, to the night I found her bloodied and beat on her bedroom floor.

I nod and reach over him, pulling my blade from the target and snatching the duffel bag before turning to walk out. “Send me the details.”

Just as I reach the parking lot at the back of the warehouse, I toss a look over my shoulder as someone calls my name. Here we fucking go.

“Q, there you are!” Cole, one of Hiwaki’s body guards catches up to me as I start up my motorcycle, ready to go the fuck home, “Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

His tan hand rests on one of the handles, like he’s scared i’m gonna flee at any minute. A valid fear.

“Busy.” I drawl, my voice dripping with boredom.

Cole knows I have no interest in him, I have no interest in anything other than ripping the throat of my sister’s killer from their body. Besides, he’s always been a little too touchy touchy, and he would die before he ever got the chance. Hopefully he knows that.

And I think he sees the threat in my eyes, because he raises his hands by his head in a surrender and takes two steps back.

“Well, me and some of the guys will be at a bar tomorrow night if you want to join us.” His eyes look hopeful, and I can’t help but to want to crush all those hopes beneath my leather boot.

Terrible I know.

“No, thanks. I have a job tomorrow.” I put my helmet on and kick the metal rod into place, ending the conversation.

“O-Oh yeah of course — okay. Well good talk!” He shouts over the revving engine as I turn and speed off into the night.

——

The punching bag groans as I land a swift kick to its tough leather exterior, the impact causing the smallest amount of movement.

I slump down in exhaustion, out of breath from the amount of hours I’ve been training. I’ll admit, my height and size put me at a disadvantage for hand to hand combat, but they also give me the upper hand when I need to move quickly or stay hidden. Besides, my knife skills do more than make up for what my body can’t give me, so I don’t complain.

I move to the duffel bag I brought with me and collect all of my knives to sharpen so I can start target practice next.

I’m in one of the personal gyms on the third floor of Hiwaki’s warehouse. He granted me unlimited access to it when I first came to work for him, his reasoning being that my sister used the same one when she was under him.

Having checked for any secret cameras or mics and coming up empty, I couldn’t find any ulterior motive he might’ve had, so I accepted it. I needed a place to keep my body sharp anyways.

‘Always be ready. No one should ever have the ability to catch you off guard.’

Her voice appears in my mind and my thoughts trail off to the first time she said those words to me. I was twelve years old and easily distracted, as most twelve year olds are, and happen to catch the gaze of a cute boy walking on the other side of the window of a gym we were sparring in.

All she needed was that sliver of an opening before she swung a leg under my feet, successfully making me land flat on my ass. It hurt like hell, and she did eventually help me up… after she’d had her fill of laughing right in my face.

“You’ll have plenty of time for that,” She said, eyeing the boy who was now walking away. “But right now you need to focus.”

Focus.

My head snaps to the to the sliding door just as Hiwaki reveals himself. He strides into the room and sits in a chair with the posture of a father trying to hang out with his son, but I know better than to take his visit as anything other than some sort of ploy.

I continue sharpening my knives as he finds his words, the sound of metal against metal filling the silence. It’s always something with this man, especially since he knew my sister. And I can’t find it in me to stop my brewing irritation every time he speaks.

Nonetheless, I patiently wait, standing to line up at the red mark several feet away from the human-sized wooden target.

“Q.”

“Hiwaki.”

“I don’t know how many times I’ve told you to call me Tony.” He says, his eyes following the blur of metal that lands in the middle of my target’s chest.

“Your sister always called me Tony.” He adds when I stay silent.

He always says weird shit like that, makes me wonder if he was more than just her boss, the possibility gives me a headache.

“I’m not my sister, Hiwaki.” I drone, hoping he gets the message,“What did you need?”

He sighs with exasperation, “I came to warn you about the man you’re dealing with tonight.”

“What about him?”

“As I mentioned before, he knew your sister-” He pauses when my next knife splits the wood at the head.

“You did.” I respond.

“He’s a drunk asshole that may not come off as dangerous at first,” He walks in front of me, making sure he has my full attention. A dangerous move might I add.

“—And he’s not. But he has dangerous friends, so keep it clean and keep it quiet.” His serious tone makes me consider his words for a second, he almost sounds nervous.

I always knew my sister was involved with dangerous people, it wasn’t exactly a secret. If training me to kill a man at the age I was wasn’t the revealing hint, then I don’t know what was.

“Who are these dangerous friends I should be worried about?” I question, noting the way he looks at his shoes before looking back at me.

“Don’t worry about that for now,” He attempts to smile and put a hand on my shoulder, both ultimately failing when I step out of arms reach.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you had a specific goal when you came to this room... Hiwaki.” I state, side-stepping him to hurl another knife.

“Well—“

“—And surely you wouldn’t have come here to ‘warn’ me about these dangerous people if there was nothing to worry about.” His jaw clenches as I turn back to him.

He chuckles deviously, taking his time before stepping closer to me, his shoes just barely touching mine as he looms over me.

“Clever girl, aren’t you?” He’s so close I can see his freshly trimmed mustache and smell the scent of burning wood off of his clothes.

His eyes trail over my covered collar bone, up the expanse of my neck, and finally, back to my eyes as his crinkled ones crease with every movement of his face.

The action causes my hands to ball into fists to keep from breaking his nose where he stands. One second he’s caring and pitying, and the next he’s acting like a two-faced bitch with secrets.

I’m suspicious of everyone around me, have been since that night. But people like him make my fucking skin crawl, like I’m missing something that’s right in front of me.

He studies me for a moment longer, before leaning back to rock on his heels. The look on his face vanishes, a sweet smile taking its place, “Just stay on your toes, Q. Your sister should have taught you that, hm?”

I watch as he heads back the way he came. Anger thrums through my veins like electricity as my fist collides with the mirror behind me, the contact splitting the skin on my knuckles.

Though he’s given me no reason to kill him yet, I have a feeling one of my knives will be the reason he ends up six feet under.

——

The rest of the day goes by in the same blur as all the others. I train, I gather information bit by bit, and attempt push out every grieving thought that comes my way. Being able to keep food down or sleep for more than thirty minutes is a luxury. If the dark circles under my eyes give any indication.

One thing I did find after getting settled into my new place near the outskirts of the city, was that the words carved onto the knife I found are in japanese. They translate to the phrase, ‘When one takes an eye, you take their head.’

I couldn’t agree more.

I also discovered that the entirety of the blade is custom made. No blade smiths in the city had ever seen such intricate material tailored onto a knife, and I met a lot of them, even threw a few empty threats in to see if they were covering for someone. Still, nothing.

So the person that had it made is either dead or nonexistent —neither of which I’m willing to except.

The handkerchief is lost on me too. I can’t find any popular family names or establishments that have the initials ‘R.S.’ I even asked Hiwaki if he had any knowledge on the subject, even he came up clueless. Or so it seemed.

I must be going mad, running around town searching and threatening residents, distrusting the very people I work with in hopes of maintaining my isolation, — I must be going mad.

Everyday I look at the stained cloth as a reminder of what I’ve lost, and sometimes it feels like I’m going insane. Searching for someone I know nothing about, blindly trudging through an unknown water I don’t know the depth of with an endless need of making it to the other side.

A certain hunger consumes me, a ruthless craving that won’t detach its self until I take the life of the one who stole my sister’s. Hell, I can’t even say her name without having the sick urge to run around killing everyone around me. I might have to get that checked once this is all over with.

But that all goes over my head as the warm body beneath me temporarily relieves my current troubles.

His rough hands grip my waist as I grind down on him, a long groan escaping his lips as I get myself off. My hands are flat on his chest for balance as I leisurely roll my hips over his, his toned muscle rippling beneath my fingers as he struggles for air.

I lean down, capturing his mouth in a heated kiss, our tongues fighting for dominance. The cool metal of our piercings bump against each other when his teeth scrape along my bottom lip, causing a loud moan to rip from my throat.

“Fuck, baby.” He moans against my mouth, his long fingers sliding down to rub tight circles on my aching clit. Oh

I hide my face in the crook of his neck as the pleasure threatens to snap that tightening coil in my lower abdomen. I lick and bite the skin of his neck, letting my nails carry bright red lines down his heaving stomach. The vivid marks match the vibrant color of his hair, and my hands itch to pull on the strands, so I do.

When my legs begin to buckle, he flips us over so quick I don’t have time to react, before he’s sliding in and out of me at a brutal pace. The sounds of skin against skin fill up the small space around us, and It hurts so good.

“Holy shit,” I gasp, clutching the strands of his fire-like hair even harder. His mouth forming an ‘o’ when my nails scratch his scalp.

His right hand clasps my upper thigh and throws it over his shoulder so that I’m taking him even deeper. —Oh my god— We’re so close I can hear the tiny whimpers that slip from his mouth.

I might’ve told a little white lie when I said I wasn’t interested in Cole for obvious reasons, but I’m just not into Cole.

He can’t give me the much needed distractions like the man above me can, can’t make my back arch like the man above me can, and sure as hell can’t make me wet like the man above me can. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

“~~Mmm, still with me baby ?” His heavy breathing clouds my senses once again as we tip over the edge together. His large hands hold my ass with a bruising grip I know will be visible tomorrow.

“Ughh,” I loop my arms around his neck to ground myself.

His hips deliver a few more slow strokes before he slouches on top of me, his thumb rubbing small shapes into my skin as we both come down from our high.

Once he’s calm and collected, he moves off the bed to grab his clothes. I was so busy ripping them off when he first walked through the door that I hadn’t had the chance to see what he was wearing. How does the simple combination of black on black look so… enticing?

I lay there, watching him get dressed with a satisfied grin on my face, he looks just as good as he fucks. It’s a rare duo.

He catches me staring, and his eyes travel down my exposed body before crawling back onto the bed towards me and settling in between my bare thighs. His seductive gaze almost makes me want to go another round.

When our noses are just inches apart, he closes the gap and kisses me long and hard. His tongue slips into my mouth in a gut twisting motion, stealing my breath before he pulls away, both of us breathing hard by the end of it.

“That was good, Q.” His mumbles, his eyes flickering down to my bruised lips.

“Yeah, it was.” I breathe, my mouth softly brushing against his, and I’m tempted to bite him again, “I trust you can let yourself out?”

“Mhm, call me when you need me.” He winks, and I fight the roll of my eyes as he heads to my front door.

He has to be the only decent thing in my life at the moment. Both of us want the physical relationship without the commitment, and it’s safe enough — for both our sakes.

I needed something to take the edge off without all of the extra shit, and he checks all of the boxes.

After I’m done reminiscing about our amazing sex, I head to the shower to get ready for tonight’s mission. The gears in my mind immediately shifting into a weapon.

——-

Nighttime rolls around in a timely fashion as I dress in my usual black leathers. All of my blades are sheathed and concealed from sight as I head out of the building to meet my client for tonight.

I don’t like using guns, they’re too loud and too noticeable. Having the ability to catch someone by surprise right before I watch the light leave their eyes gives me the stealth and reputation of a fox. It’s probably the another reason Hiwaki treats me so well, I’m one of his best assassins.

If not the best.

The intel stated that the man would be at an exclusive bar in the heart of Wovren. It’s the weekend so it’ll be busy, but easier to get him alone. He apparently also has a weakness for any woman he lays eyes on — like most of the men I’ve dealt with, soo bingo.

When I walk in, the bass and volume of the music threaten to bust my ear drums. I scan over the crowds of people filling the two story club, specifically searching the two main bars for bright blonde hair. There are people everywhere, ranging from naked strippers to drunk birthday girls and suspicious looking business men.

Booths in every corner are filled up with people who seem to be having a good time, a really good time. My eyes squint as I notice the glazed over look in their eyes. And yet the waitresses don’t break a sweat getting the alcohol from table to table. It’s like walking through a circus.

As I continue to observe what’s around me, a sudden chill dances down my spine, distant and unfamiliar, but drawing me in nonetheless. I have the urge to look behind me but choose to ignore it when I think i’ve found who I’m looking for.

Surely enough, across the room on the second floor, a buff, middle aged man with hair the color of his skin sits alone at the bar. The pink tint on his cheeks let me know this won’t take long as I start up the stairs in his direction.

I slide smoothly into the stool beside him and order a glass of whiskey, neat. I pretend to mind my business, paying him no mind when I feel his eyes on my side profile, taking a long, slow sip before gently setting the glass on the counter and chancing a glance in his direction.

I must say he looks good for his age. I’m not one for older men but there’s no concerning amount of wrinkles or yellow teeth —I’m almost impressed. He’ll be easy to seduce, which makes my job a hell of a lot easier.

He continues admiring my figure so openly that I can tell he’s undressing me with his eyes, and I might just puke. I’m sitting right fucking here. Fucking perv, the audacity that men have will forever astound me.

“Are you going to keep staring at me like a piece of meat or actually attempt to flirt?” I question, draining the rest of my glass and waving the server over for another, turning my smooth gaze on him.

A drunken smile creeps onto his face before he turns to drain the last of what’s in his glass too. “A bit under dressed for such a place hm?” He replies, lifting a pale brow at my choice of outfit.

There’s a slight slur to his words, I should get him out of here before I have to carry his ass out myself. I do a once over of his white button up and grey slacks, faking interest as I take my time responding.

“I could ask you the same,” I say, looking to the side and biting my lip before looking back at him. “But I take it you’re not one to talk much.”

I think i’ve always been one for dramatics. Just a little. I will say my flirting could use some work, but these things never last long enough for me to actually practice. Which I don’t particularly mind—

Everyone in here is either drunk or on some kind of substance. Not to mention the couples’ in the booth across from us have forgotten they are in a public place. My nose scrunches in disgust. I’ve barely been here an hour and would already like to leave.

“—From the way you’re looking at me, I could say the same.” He sets his glass down and stands — or tries to.

I’m happy he’s already done me a favor and gotten drunk enough that killing him will take me barely lifting a finger, especially with how big he is. But how exactly am I supposed to get answers out of him if he’s already stumbling over his own feet?

He sways a little before taking off toward the back exit of the building, he waves a hand over his shoulder indicating for me to follow him. So I do.

As soon as we step into the cold air I take a deep breath, my lungs taking advantage of the fresh air.

The moment is short-lived when he roughly pins me against the brick wall of the alleyway, the harsh surface digging into my back as his heavy body presses into me. I look towards both entrances of the alleyway to be sure that we’re alone, and my fingers itch to grab hold of my knives as he gets himself off.

So much for foreplay.

“Kinda’ glad you came,” He breathes, rutting his hips into mine. His big, meaty hands hold my waist still like I might suddenly take off. Another valid fear.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” I don’t even attempt to hide the disdain in my voice or try to sound breathless underneath him. He wouldn’t notice even if I did.

It goes on like this for a while as I allow him to get comfortable. He slurs some more sentences that I don’t understand, nor do I try to. His breath reeks of alcohol and cigar smoke, the strong smell making this interaction damn near unbearable.

Slipping my right hand into my breast pocket, I pull out the small photo I carry everywhere with me.

Shoving it into his face, I knee him right in the balls — hard. Almost smiling at the pathetic mewl that escapes his lips as he crumbles onto the wet concrete.

‘Yeah, thats enough buddy,’ I think to myself as I dust off my jacket.

I crouch down to his level, fighting the laugh that bubbles through my lips at his twisted face. Get it together man.

“Do you know this girl?” I grip his hair with my free hand and yank his head back so he can see it clearly.

When he doesn’t answer, instead choosing to spit on my leather boots, my very expensive leather boots, I lift him up even higher and ram the same knee right into his nose, listening for the distinct crack!

“Fuck!” He shouts, grabbing his crooked nose with both hands. “You broke my fucking nose!”

For such a large man, I fear Hiwaki was right about him being a weakling. It’s unfortunate, really.

“Yes, that was the point.” I grit out, grabbing him once more to show the photo of my dead fucking sister.

“Do. You. Know this girl?” I repeat, venom lacing every word.

His eyes widen as he actually looks at the picture this time, his brows furrowing in contemplation. “Who are you?” He utters, blood pouring down his face as he talks.

I sigh like he’s my biggest problem in the world and unsheathe one of my knives, flipping it up in the air before trailing it down the front of his slacks, tapping it right on his most prized possession.

He gulps before opening his mouth to speak again.

“—Choose your words carefully.” I warn, catching the way his eyes light up for a split second. He recognizes her.

“Yeah I know her. Used to see her all the time over at Blood Moon.” He says, his tone hushed like that’s all he’s gonna say.

I wait for a beat, then two. Then look around us before looking back at him. He’s about to pull some bullshit I know it.

“Great! thanks-”

“Fucked that bitch like the whore she was--“ I shove my knife into his left eye, effectively cutting him off.

Like I said, the audacity.

His screams are melodies to my ears. I grab him by the collar of his jacket and haul him up just enough to see my face clearly. Well, as clearly as he can with one eye and get real close to his gushing face, so close I only have to whisper for him to hear me.

“You see what happens when you don’t listen ?” I ask, tilting my head in a pitiful manner. “Hiwaki sends his regards.”

His good eye widens one last time before I push my blade further into his socket through his skull, letting it touch the back of his brain, and then ripping it out and letting his body fall to the ground with a satisfying thud.

“Shithead.” I mutter, reaching down to wipe his blood off my blade, sheathing it on the outside of my thigh this time.

So much for keeping it clean and quiet.

I neatly tuck the photo back into my breast pocket as I come to a full stand. Blood Moon. He said he’d seen her at Blood Moon. Is that a club? A bar? I never knew her workplaces, she’d always insisted it was too dangerous for me to know anything. So dangerous it got her killed.

— And what did he mean by ‘was’? Did he know she was murdered? Did he know who murdered her? Fuck, maybe I killed him too early, but if I can find out what and where this ‘Blood Moon’ place is, then-

My body freezes. The hairs on the back of my neck stand at an alarming rate, and my hand hovers over the knife I just used to kill a man. My spine straightens on its own accord and I can feel sweat beading along my hairline. This alleyway was empty just a moment ago, but I don’t give myself time to think about that as I slowly turn around.

A tall figure leans against the end of the wall opposite of me, watching me with what looks like curiosity. He’s dressed in black from head to toe, the material revealing a striking contrast to his unnaturally pale skin. His short, charcoal hair comes to rest just beneath his ears, framing his piercing gaze perfectly. His lips form a thin line, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly as he taps the excess ash off his cigarette.

He doesn’t seem disconcerted by what i’m positive he just watched me do, he might’ve even enjoyed the little show, considering the small smirk on his face.

My head spins as I struggle to figure out my next move. I could go back in the way I came, or simply walk past him, but something keeps me from moving, like his presence has stolen my free will.

“A little gruesome, don’t you think?” His keen eyes are back on mine, and I realize I’ve been blatantly staring at him.

I blink a few times before looking back down at the body that slumps at my feet. I tilt my head, searching for an answer.

“I think I would’ve preferred a little more blood, actually.” I state, slowly walking towards the end of the alleyway where he stands, “His tongue was too loose.”

For some reason the closer I get the more my body no longer deems him a threat, even though I was scared shitless two minutes ago, it’s my mind that makes sure I maintain my distance.

Something in his energy tangles with mine, drawing me closer as my common sense screams for me to stop, or run the opposite direction, anything to keep me from doing something stupid.

I come to a stop in front of him just as he takes another drag, a dark eyebrow lifting at me as he extends the cig to me.

As if i’ve known this man all my life, my fingers skim against his as I take the burning joint to my lips. The cool wave of nicotine works against the adrenaline I’ve built as I stare at the intriguing stranger, his eyes trailing my every move like a cat with a ball of yarn.

With the few feet of space in between us I get a waft of his cologne, and he smells divine. An intoxicating mix of vanilla and sage invade my nostrils, and I swear to all there is my knees almost give out when the wind blows it in my direction.

I can also see the distinct features of his face more closely now, my eyes memorizing every prominent slope and line that is his face. He’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, the moonlight does nothing to stop him from looking unreal.

“M’, too bad you didn’t let him live long enough for such entertainment,” He drawls, his bored tone shifting into a teasing one.

His words snap my attention back to reality.

“But it is like you said,” He takes one large step towards me, plucking the bud from my lips and tossing it behind him. “I did enjoy the ‘little’ show.” He whispers, leaning into my space.

My mind is completely blank, and my words abandon me as I peer up at him through my lashes. My body heats at his close proximity, and I have to press myself into the wall to keep from doing something I’ll regret.

His observant eyes take me in once more, as if he can see all my darkest secrets like words in a book, before wordlessly turning and walking away.

It takes me a full ten minutes to recollect myself before my dignity finally comes back to me. Then something that he said hits me. ‘I did enjoy the little show.’