Deadly Sins | Monsta X

Part 36: Secrets

Just like his body, her hand is still sticky from his blood... or probably hers. He gulps heavily when he spots the deep cut she gave herself to heal him. But even worse are the marks he left. Eight small dots around the cut where his teeth sank into her skin, when he was about to lose control, so aroused, so dazed from the taste of her blood. Marks he never meant to leave on her body—at least not like this.

The demon can't believe Anya did this. He could've easily killed her with his bloodlust, but she didn't care. She should've just let him die a miserable death but instead, she saved his life.

What the hell does she even see in him that makes her think risking her life to save his is worth it?

"You're so dumb, babygirl!" he whispers, his tone full of desperation as he leads her wrist to his lips and kisses her wounds tenderly, licks them softly, in the hope that another hit of his venom will make them disappear faster.

He stops, her wrist still in his hand, and turns his head again. Gulping, his eyes retrace the contours of her face, wander over the long lashes, the mole underneath her eye, the high cheekbones, and the full lips. 

Anya looks so...

Beautiful.

The moment this thought crosses his mind, he drops her wrist on his chest and a sickening feeling rushes through his body.

Fuck!

Why is this the first word he thinks of? Is it because his human common sense tells him that she is? Or can he actually...see it?

What the fuck is happening to him?

Ever since that sunset in San Francisco, things feel different. So strange yet so familiar. Like reliving a memory after smelling a certain scent. Too indistinct to put together the pieces but clear enough for a few fragments to build up inside his mind.

This scares him more than he wants to admit. Tonight's events showed him why he should never have such a close relationship with his clients. Not only did he get distracted keeping Anya alive, he also put both of them in danger by doing so.

Kyun knows he has to get up, he has to leave her—for good if possible—just to make sure she's safe. But the urge to lay here next to her is so much stronger. He almost gets pulled by her, like gravity.

He wants to have a few more minutes, just a little more time to make sure she's safe before he leaves—and stays away for as long as possible.

His eyes fall back on her face and he watches her, his mouth dry. His bones are aching from the way he tenses his body to keep himself from touching her, pulling her closer, to keep himself from doing things she didn't consent to. He can't let his demonic self take over control again.

There are so many things on his mind, so many things he wants her to know but can't say. He's stuck in a loop, an endless spiral of thoughts, each one more confusing than the last.

But in the end, he knows, none of this matters anyway. Not the hows or the whys. All that matters is keeping her safe. And she's safest when she knows as little as possible.

For hours he watches her, listens to her soft breaths, and grins at her murmurs in her sleep.

Anya does that a lot. She actually has a tendency to call his name in her sleep. God, what a giant pain in his ass she's been over the past ten years. So often he got interrupted at deals or important meetings because she was calling his name without even knowing it. And his demonic self had no other choice but to appear. Most of the time he made sure to be invisible to her then; he didn't want to scare her in case she woke up.