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"You're getting rusty,"
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Harvest stared blankly at the words in the book, his breathing low as he sat alone in the abandoned section of the library.
His jaw clenched for a moment, before closing the book. He leaned backward into the soft chair, running a hand down his face with a deep sigh, mind far off.
He couldn't help the feelings of regret drawing deep within him, and yet it was unclear what he was regretting, conflicting thoughts lying rampant in his mind.
This wasn't a feeling he was used to, everything was always built around him, and he always knew what he wanted-
It was hard for him to believe that whilst many had tried to get under his skin, it had to be the quiet mute girl who couldn't hurt a fly.
He scoffed at this thought, eyes opening once more, staring out into the open space, lips pursing in a hard line.
His gaze dropped to the mark on his wrist for a moment, looking at the intricate design, his breathing even lower as he thought of her.
If only it had been the ordinary tethering, and yet somehow, despite his better judgments, she had managed to sneak one by him.
Before it was easy for him to say there was nothing, but now there was a heavy feeling stuck in his chest, one that was bothering the hell out of him.
That a being such as himself would be tricked by something as trivial as a mark.
This was a game he was always good at playing, but now it felt as if the game itself wasn't the same, that the rules had been twisted, to the point that whether they existed or not was a debate in itself.
The conversation that he had with his father formed in his head at this thought,
[You have always been good at winning, you have one more remove left to finally take the crown your blood so rightly deserves.-The girl is mute- ]
Her face mirrored in his memories at this-
[She is clueless and harmless]
Her stubborn attitude, forged in his mind, her little acts of rebellion when she bravely kissed his forehead played in his mind making him right out a chuckle.
The thought he had read in her mind, her anger towards him for not picking her.
He shook his head at this, amused. She was so complicated and yet delicate. Rough and soft, angry and sweet.
So sweet.
He let out a loose breath feeling delirious for a moment.
So gentle-
[and yet you hold her symbol]
He paused at this, throat constricted as he adjusted himself in his seat, dark blues glancing at the notebook he couldn't keep his hands off, only because he felt even after reading her mind, her notebook was a little more sacred, something that was even more private.
From between those pages, he could tell what she had been thinking of weeks ago, how her heart translated her feelings, and most importantly- all her suspicions of him.
At least, that was what he told himself.
But there was a reason he hated what he read, why he had these feelings of regret.
YOU ARE READING
THESE HIDDEN WINGS
Fantasy"For if the devil was ever to see her, he would kiss her eyes and repent." ___________________________________ Falling from 38, 000 feet after her parents presidential private jet is attacked is the least of 17 year old Talanda's problems, but wakin...
