The Scent and The Siren

‎♡‧₊˚five ‎♡‧₊˚

✧༺♥༻∞

─── ⋅｡ﾟ☆: ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅:☆ﾟ ⋅ ───

𓆩♡𓆪 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𓆩♡𓆪

✧༺♥༻∞

𓆩♡𓆪 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 @𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐞 

𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𓆩♡𓆪

"I don't want to make assumptions." Thrown willy-nilly into a situation so raw, I simply gaze up at him as helpless as a stupefied lamb and feel like I'm slipping off a cliff and falling.

The piercing intensity of deep-set sapphire eyes holds danger and dark promises. His lean, darkly handsome face is unapologetically unreadable. There's a sense of compulsive ferocity he's clenching. I can feel it deep in my bones. The light from the moon and the street lamp caresses his features, making his raven-black hair gleam.

He brushes a wet strand of hair behind my ear. "You decided to play a damsel in distress, and your concerned, equally inebriated friend requested my assistance to find you when we ran into each other."

"Oh?" I ask breathlessly, my eyes narrowing as I regain some of my lost wits. "How were you able to track me down?"

"Why were you roaming out here alone?" He asks instead, shooting me with an assessing look that makes my skin flare.

His voice holds almost a hint of softness, suggesting civility. However, what I sense in the charged atmosphere between us is far from civilized. It is nameless, petrifying—hushed intimidation claws barbarously at my nerve endings. 

This man is dangerous to my sanity. 

He's making me yearn for things I've never known I wanted until now. Makes me want him to make me feel alive. Makes me ache with this fervid sexual desire to be sated like never before. I swallow hard. 

No. I can't let him affect me this way.

"Can you book an Uber Lux Black for me from your phone?" I ignore him, treating him to the dose of his own medicine, and lower my gaze to find the heel still stuck in the manhole cover as if I was miraculously expecting it to be out by now. "I'll be done rescuing my Vivier by the time it's here."

"Uber?" He vents in raw disbelief as if I have uttered a word forbidden in his personal dictionary.

"Um, yeah? The ride-sharing service? Even Lyft Lux would do."

"I know what it is." He snaps, and his jaw hardens. "The only way you're going home is how I deem fit. Don't tell me you use those death trap services often. What happened to Oliver?"

"I gave him a night off." I refrain from smiling. It means a big deal to me that even after all this time, he remembers a detail of my life, regardless of how tiny it is. "He has been working hard, so I thought he could use it."

"I'm assuming all the other chauffeurs employed by the Rothschilds have ceased to exist in his absence?" Hard eyes regard me with no perceptible emotion in them at all.