So Cold

P r o l o g u e

This whole book is currently undergoing MAJOR editing. Therefore, you will see many spelling/typos/grammar mistakes on the chapters that are [in editing] or unspecified. My writing improves dramatically when the book goes more into depth. Read with caution!

(This book contains some smut and it's horribly written. I need to say that I am very sorry for anyone that has read it.)

I apologize for all of the stupid and meaningless sentences that are occasionally written throughout the book. It's really embarrassing now that I am looking through the chapters again and now that I am editing them.

[edited]

My heart thudded in my chest like a hammer against a nail head, hot blood rapidly pulsing  throughout the entirety of my body, making my cheeks flush and tinge to a pink. Along with the color to my cheeks came the heat, tears near to falling from my red-trimmed eyes, the salty droplets getting caught in my eyelashes. I could swear that despite the cold weather, the temperature had risen very quickly in the environment that surrounded me. Perhaps it was just my paranoia crawling underneath my skin, sending electricity up my spine. 

Or maybe it was the tension that loomed in the air around us - whirling around my neck in a pattern, much like a pair of hands would as they constrict my airways until my lungs burned. 

"You don't get away with such things, Zayn," he spoke darkly. The man I feared most - he man who has complete control over me and others, leaving me defenseless with nowhere to go and no place to hide from his bloody hands.

I nodded, trying to swallow down an imaginary lump in my throat as I spoke barely above a whisper, "I understand, sir. I understand." My mouth went dry, feeling as though I had eaten cotton - my tongue resembling the rough texture of sandpaper. I was putty in his hands, knowing what his mind and body are capable of.

"Did you actually think you may have had a chance? That you could've turned this all around? Tell me if so, Zayn. I love to hear stories. I love to hear stories about how people think so hopefully or positively, but it all ends in chaos... It entertains me well." His voice drops an octave, making him sound far more intimidating than he already is.

I bit down on my chapped bottom lip, thinking through for a response, or debating if it I am better off to just let the man speak to his heart's desire. Nobody dares to interrupt him during anything. He made you wait like you had all the time in the world until he was done, and if not, then you suffer the consequences.

"Well?" He edged me on, barely hissing the word. "Any stories for me from you? Any at all?"

I shook my head, nervously rubbing my clammy palms on the sides of my shirt, my eyes locking in his as his toxic gaze practically dissolves right through me, observing every miniscule movement I made.

"Please," I begged, my voice coming out a lot louder than what I intended it to be, "let us go. I have... A portion of it. But the catch is that it's in my bank and -"

"Don't speak anymore," he said bitterly. "I think I can handle this." He grinned wickedly, teeth looking like it belonged to a shark.

And in this situation, he was a shark.

The catch?

I was his meal.