Twenty-four Hours Later
Crymson
The pounding of my skull isn’t the first thing that wakes me.
It’s the cold. It’s freezing in here.Did Van leave the front door open again?
The room I wake in isn’t Van’s though. I—I don’t know whose it is, actually. Which is fine. I’m alive. I’m safe. That’s a sincere upgrade to where I was yesterday.
Cool air wafts over me, sending shivers up my arms. The bedroom is shrouded in total darkness. Not even a crack of light hints at my surroundings. The sheets are clean, and the comforter is luxurious beneath my fingertips though. I relax into those soft blankets. My eyes close for a single moment, and I try to think back to last night.
I remember flirting with the bouncer at the Neon God’s Club. The blurry lights flash behind my lids, and I distinctly remember a man’s face. Shadows clung to the sharp cut of his cheekbones and jawline. Blonde hair, so light it was nearly white, skimmed his serious brow. He was so confident. So sexy. He walked the room like he owned it and everyone in it. He had me in the palm of his hand in a matter of seconds.
He appeared from nowhere. But I was glad he appeared. I was so damn happy to see him, for some reason.
Despite my terrible choice in my ex, I’m good at reading people. The man was harmless. Completely harmless.
“She awakes,” a smooth voice bathed in warmth and whiskey says in the darkness. His voice alone spirals another shiver across my body.
I smile at the memory of how he kissed me. It was slow. Like he had all the time on Earth to waste just tasting me.
He was a good kisser.
I wonder if he was a good fuc—
“Did we, ah...” I leave the open-ended question hanging in the air for the hauntingly beautiful voice to answer.
He doesn’t snuggle against me. He doesn’t pull my body to his. He leaves the space between us. I just have no idea how much space that is.
Shit, I hope I didn’t puke on him. He had nice shoes.Expensiveshoes. If I’m in his bed, I’d say his shoes were safe from any vomit.
I hope.
“Did we what?” he asks, and I hear the soft, deliberate press of footsteps circling the bed frame.
A breath of coy laughter slips from my lips, and I sit up among the pile of blankets. When I do, cold metal brushes along my chest... and wrists... and neck.
“What...” my fingers slide down the long length of an unseen chain that links from my neck to my hands to the bed.
Oh no. I’m not good at reading people... this man is the furthest thing from harmless.
Chapter 7
Christian
I know the moment she realizes her mistake. Her sweet laughter cuts off into silence, and only the hardness of metal jarring against the spiraling bedpost can be heard. I cannot see her. But I can sense her features. A soft outline of light surrounds her in the dark, my heightened senses giving me as much detail as possible. I can smell the panic she exhales. It’s rancid and bitter. The opposite of her alluring heartbeat that’s thrumming like a hummingbird caged in my hands.
She’s a curious little thing though. It’s an accomplishment to pique my interest. People are predictable. Especially humans. I can’t predict what this girl does though. From the way she kissed me in the club to the way she’s calculating her next step, it’s all very, very different from what I’m used to. Despite her fear, she doesn’t scream. She shifts carefully around the blanket, and in the dark, I can see her bright aura surrounding her as she lifts up to her knees.
And so, I crawl silently over the dense mattress. Not a single part of the bed dips as I inch closer and closer and closer until... the heat of her breath fans across my lips. She really is a bird in my hand. She doesn’t even know where I am. And yet... I could snap her neck before her next blink.
Why is she so magnetic?Even the quietness of my heart can be felt, with a heaviness that weights my own chest just simply from not touching her soft skin.
The taste of her blood is a fresh memory in my mind that I can’t ignore. It’s a taste that’s rich and imprinted on my tongue.
But I can’t do that again.
Not ever.