THE LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS - BWS

twelve

I lost the little control I had over my heartbeat the moment the sound of his words reached my ears. His voice was so grave and solemn that I could only envision the worst. He had decided to kill me. Whether that had been his plan since the day we met or he only decided that now didn't matter. He was going to kill me and there wasn't anything I could do to stop him. But that didn't mean I would let him have me without at least trying to fight. Without thinking twice about it, I reached for the bottle of whisky and smashed it against the counter, holding onto the neck of it while the amber-coloured liquid and broken pieces of glass splattered everywhere. I held the broken bottle tightly in my hand, the sharp edges of the glass directed at him. Contrary to what I expected he didn't seem mad— he simply looked annoyed.

"That was very expensive whisky," he said with a frustrated sigh. He took a step closer to me, forcing me to step back. "What do you think is going to happen now?" He asked, curiosity and wonder apparent on his face.

"If you thought killing me was going to be easy, you were wrong," I clapped back, gripping onto the bottle so tightly my knuckles turned white. He looked at me surprised at first, and his lips curled into a grin. Then he laughed, making my brows furrow again. He was mocking me. That little bastard thought the situation was funny.

"My apologies—" He said between two chuckles when he saw the unamused look on my face. "It's just—" he started to say as he finally managed to control his laughter. "You're threatening me with broken glass. Do you really think you can harm me with that?"

Of course I knew I couldn't kill him with broken glass. The reality of things was that I simply couldn't kill him. Not without my blade. But even though broken glass couldn't kill him, it could certainly inflict some pain.

I lunged forward in a flash, taking advantage of his amused state, and brandished the broken glass towards his neck. William anticipated my move and dodged it gracefully as if we were dancing and not trying to kill each other. A grin hung at his lips while my face was deformed with anger. This was all so funny to him. I was a powerless and insignificant little thing to him, and that made my blood boil.

"Do you really want to do this?" He played while I quickly turned around to where he had moved behind me, still panting from my missed blow. My heartbeat was off the charts now, and I could tell by how black his eyes had turned that he would very soon grow tired of playing with his food. I lunged forward again, and instead of aiming for his neck, I waited until he dodged my fake blow to proceed with the one I had planned, the broken bottle finding its way into his thigh. Both our heads bowed to where the bottle stuck out of his leg, our eyes wide. I hadn't expected for my plan to work, and to actually hit him. He was a lot faster than me, how I managed this hit was a real mystery. And judging by the look on his face, he was as shocked as I was. But his shock was gone in a flash, and replaced by irritation.

"That wasn't very nice," he snarled as he grabbed the bottle and pulled it out of his leg. Blood covered it, and was soaking the fabric of his chino pants. My heart was pounding in my chest as I took a step back. I didn't have any weapons left— not that they would have been of any help anyways. "I liked those pants." He placed the bottle on the counter dismissively, not caring that I could grab it again. Clearly he didn't see me as a threat, with or without a weapon in hand. He took another step in my direction, and my eyes desperately scanned the counters next to me. Not one sharp object laid on the counter, for the exception of the broken bottle, which was too far out of my reach. Not giving up, I curled my fist into a ball and threw a punch, aiming for his jaw. Of course, he dodged it easily and managed to grab my arm in the process. He turned me around so that my back was against his chest, my arm bent in my back, pressed against his abs. He held onto my bent arm tightly, making me wince at the pain, his other arm now snaked around my throat. My free hand instantly reached for his forearm below my chin in a vain effort to release the pressure and not die of suffocation. But then I realized something. He wasn't putting any pressure on my throat. His arm was curled around it, but he wasn't trying to make me choke to death. At least, not yet.

"Are you done?" He asked, his face pressed against my ear and his lips brushing my cheeks as he talked. My body jolted with awareness as the feeling of tiny needles poking my skin spread through my body. "I thought we had established by now that if I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already."

I couldn't help but frown in surprise. Did he really not want to kill me? Then why did he say he couldn't let me leave?

"Let go of me," I ordered, squirming in his grip. A soft laugh escaped his lips, but he didn't release the pressure on my wrist. He kept me pressed against him, his hot cheek against mine. I held my breath.

"If I do that, are you going to try to kill me again?" He asked softly with his signature amused tone. "Might I suggest some other kind of weapon— that blade of yours maybe?"

My nails dug into his forearm. He was enjoying this a little too much. What did he want from me?

"You're a wild little thing, you know that?" He teased, and I closed my eyes in frustration. "While I'd love to play sword with you all day long, we do have a problem on our hands—" My eyebrows furrowed and my body stiffened. "Can I trust you not to lunge at me again if I let go of you?"

My chest was moving up and down unbelievably fast as I weighed the ins and outs. Did I want to hit him the moment he'd let go? Absolutely. Would I do that? Not if I wanted to live.

"Yes," I whispered so quietly I wondered if he heard me. His grip on my wrist suddenly loosened and his arm left my throat slowly, as if he was anxious of my next move. Could a part of him be scared of me? Certainly not— He took a step back and I turned around to face him. He didn't look amused anymore, and I realized that whatever the problem he referred to was, it was big enough for him to manage not to kill me despite how strong his cravings were.