Ice Thug

Capitolo Sette

Flowers.

I love flowers, whatever the type. Dandelion, tulips, roses... it's hard to pick a favorite. I run my fingers through them and then my nose.

They smell heavenly, a mixture of sweet and soft.

I want to have more of them in this garden.

"Papa. Do you think we can..." I try to tell my father about making room for another garden for more of these golden tulips, but he's no longer behind me.

Instead, he's a little further down, tending to Mama's grave.

"Papa!" I call, a little annoyed. Why would he leave me without telling me?

Just like he stood up one day and decided it was best I left the only place I knew as home for six years. He's at it again.

When he turns, he doesn't look as concerned as I would have wanted him to be.

Instead, he points in a direction just slightly behind me, saying absolutely nothing.

When I look in the direction, I gasp. It's this dark, beautiful man, but with ice blue eyes. His neatly braided hair falls across his face, dancing in the garden breeze.

That's new.

I feel like I'm supposed to know this guy, but for some reason, he's a stranger to me.

He starts approaching, and I start retreating because along with him comes this feeling of deep dread that manifests itself in a blistering cold.

"Who are you?" I shiver.

He remains silent at first and continues approaching me, and I keep retreating until my back slams against something hard...a wall, perhaps. I have no time to check. My eyes, head, and mind are transfixed to the man before me.

Even then, he doesn't stop coming, and he keeps coming until his face is merely inches from mine. Now, I can see his icy breath leave his mouth. It's terrifying, considering this isn't the winter or any weather that should foster the amount of chill that he emanates.

He carries this power that I'm powerless to.

Why? Why can't I just shove him off and run to my papa?

Finally, he speaks right when his lips are about to touch mine.
"Let's go pluck out some more eyes, Principessa."

That's when I recognize his voice.

That's when I recognize him.

"Trey!"

"What?" his brows furrow.

My eyes that are open...well, they open for real this time.

"Trey..." I mumble to myself. What was he doing in my dream?
"What?" The voice nearly sends me to my early grave from a heart attack.

My neck almost snaps from how fast my head spins around to trace the source of the voice. Maybe if he was behind me, my neck would have snapped for real. Luckily, he's on the bean bag that lies at the foot of my bed, only he's taken it a little further.

"What the fuck are you doing in my room?" I growl. The coldest killer in the mafia somehow found his way into my locked room and is lounging lazily on my bean bag, scrolling haphazardly on his phone.

I should be worried about what he might have done to me in my sleep.

I should be worried about the security of my house that he has somehow managed to compromised.