There's Just Something About Leo.

Chapter 12: Man with Wings

I was running through some sort of a forest. My lungs burned and feet ached as I moved. A smell of burning swept around me and I looked back to see what it was. There was no fire, just a black shadow. A long, slim black shadow with wings erupting from its’ sides. It stalked me and waited for me to tire out but I kept running as I remember I was told to. Whoever this shadow was, it was male, and had the strangest energy around him that immediately triggered panic when I looked back at him. Dodging trees and thorns that seemed to reach and grab me, I continued to flee until my vision blurred and heard a voice from behind me that resembled the definition of darkness itself.

“You have yet to give me a chance.”

Then I collapsed. Whether it was out of exhaustion or something he did, I couldn’t tell. But when I woke we both were at his house, I’d assumed. I found myself lying on a four poster bed with golden silk sheets and organza drapes across the posters. The walls were luxuriously textured with expensive wallpaper which was coloured maroon with faint black/brown vines lining it. I looked down at myself and realised I was wearing a dressing gown made with similar material to the bed sheets. The ripped clothes beneath it revealed almost too much and my hair was loose. I looked around for my scarf and didn’t see it. But when I saw the bedroom window I was tempted to climb out. As I forced myself to get up, my legs wobbled and I decided to stay put as a result. So instead of climbing out and reaching freedom, I simply sat there staring out at the sky.

He must have heard me get up because he walked in with a tray. What once was a winged shadow, now was a half dressed man. As I watched him, my voice caught in my throat. He was tall, tanned and well built. He had shaggy brown hair and high cheek bones with hazel eyes, but what caught my attention the most was the jagged scar that ran from the top of his left eyebrow, through his eye lid and diagonally across his left cheek. He sat quietly at the foot of the bed before nudging closer. The tray contained a bowl of food, a glass of water, and a small box that looked like a first aid kit. Was I hurt?

He sighed before speaking. The bedroom was dimly lit and shadows formed around his facial features as his rugged long hair fell around his shoulders.

“Please eat.” He urged, trying to be gentle. Paranoia took over me and I refused despite the stubborn growls of my stomach. He lifted the bowl and shovelled the spoon into it.

“Please.” He repeated.

“I’m not hungry…and I don’t want anything from you.” I stated shortly. His shoulders dropped in disappointment but his face remained neutral. When I managed to make a little amount of eye contact I saw hungry, animalistic eyes return my stare and I immediately looked away. Without another word he opened the first aid kit and began pouring an anti-bacterial liquid onto a cloth. I watched him cautiously and flinched when he edged closer. His arm retreated when he saw my reaction.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he purred, “I just want to tend to your wounds…” The man motioned to my neck and arm, and it took me a few seconds to realise I was covered in my own blood.

“Oh…” I looked at myself in surprise.

“It’s okay…” he replied, as though talking to a frightened child. “Just let me see.”

I let him sit closer and move part of the dressing gown so he could get a better look, although the whole time I was holding my breath and I could tell he sensed it. I stiffened as he moved my hair from the base of my neck and applied the cloth with a soft pressure. Pain returned to me when he removed it and I winced as it took over my senses. I was beginning to feel drowsy again.