I swallow, throwing a glance at the beastly man in front of me with his bulging muscles and rancorous streak to his eyes and mouth. Can he?
8
Alec
When she shoved her little body against my chest, it made me feelsomething that I usually never feel. Warmth...It made its way down to my bones, making me feel something other than ice for once. My body temperature has been unnaturally low for years, a result of being part of the mafia, leading to a decrease in stress hormones and adrenaline.
I’ve gotten used to it but now that’s she’s given me a drop of heat, I want to take it all. Take it all and keep her as my own, little ballerina. My little comfort, my little drug. If I could I’d shoot that warm softness straight into my veins.
But what will she do with a man like me? Can she take me or will she break? Will I ruin her...?
Swallowing, a muscle ticks in my jaw and I rise. It’s a small satisfaction that she has stopped wincing when faced with my size. I give her a gentle smile, my chest feeling like its being held down by a boulder when she slowly but surely smiles back, lighting up my existence.
With her, everything seems fuzzier around the edges.
“You are too sweet to be in my world, Lyla,” I tell her in a velvety voice, one that mobsters usually never use but she still squirms. “Do you know that?”
“Don’t talk like that,” she murmurs and I frown. “Please.”
“Why not?”
Her eyes meet mine. “Because you make it sound as if you don’t think very highly of yourself.”
I pull my head back. “You are right, I don’t. And neither should you.”
She jerks her chin, her eyes flaring and I’ve never seen a more amatory woman in my life. She’s completely makeup free, wet as a kitten but a golden glow seems to be shining from within her. A glow that comes from her kindness and decency. Her innocence.
“You’ve agreed to help me and that makes you a good man in my eyes.”
Again with the good...She is almost making me want to turn into the average Joe who drinks beer on Friday’s and remembers to bring his wife flowers once a month after his nine to five.
Taking a deep breath, I move toward the door saying, “I will let you get dressed. I will be waiting outside.”
“Outside?” she says in surprise and I give a curt nod.
“You and I are going to have dinner. I have already made reservations.”
I’m not sure whether she protests or not, because I’m already outside in the hallway. Pacing back and forth impatiently, I glance at the door, wondering how long it takes for a woman to get ready. Right when suspicions start flaring about her realizing this isn’t worth it and deciding to escape through the window, she walks out.
Her hair is in a knot on her head and she’s wearing white leggings, a snug top and flats. Smiling shyly, she wraps a thick wool coat around her, murmuring,
“Will this be okay for where we are going?”
Her tight clothes look like a second skin on her and I feel like her body should be reserved for only my eyes alone but I nod, not wanting to come across as disagreeable.
Glancing at me inquisitively, she says, “I thought you people aren’t supposed to be seen out and about.”
I let out a laugh because she is amusing to me. “We are rarely seen out during the day. It is true that we prefer the dark but that doesn’t mean we live like wraiths.”
She seems happy with my answer and it pleases me because once I make her mine she is going to have to get used to the lifestyle. Not that I will ever give her a proper introduction. What attracts me to her is her softness, her pink cheeks, her whole world that seems to be filled with tulle and Tchaikovsky.
And I want to keep it that way as much as possible.
I wrap my hand around her upper arm, proceeding to drag her down the hallway. Preoccupied with the thought of getting her away from the sharp lights in the ceiling and noises of other people’s chatters to somewhere dark and safe, I don’t even notice that she is fidgeting.
“Alec...” she says in a low voice and I look down at her. She is so small, reaching only to just above my elbow. “You don’t have to walk around with me like you’re my prison guard, you know.”
Frowning, I look at my hand clamped around her arm as I’m taking wide strides, making sure that she stays close to me. Fuck, she is right. I am not good at this. She is a woman, not my captive or an animal.