Diavolo

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  SILVIO

        The moonlight shone through the curtained window, illuminating her soft face in a way that made my heart ache.

        Smooth brown skin, delicate face, black mole at the left corner above her lip which I'd always ached to touch. Run my fingertips over and unintentionally taint her skin with every bit of darkness inside of me.

        She'd fallen asleep on the couch earlier watching one of her favorite hallmark movies, curled up in a ball. I knew it was some sort of instinct—watching a hallmark movie with potato chips and chocolate chip cookies—needing some sort of comfort when she was stressed.

        I knew I wasn't supposed to touch her or kiss her—it was her conditions—but I couldn't let her wake up with a tight neck. I carried her into my arms, moving towards her bedroom and placed her on the right side of the bed.

        Tugging the thick comforter around her body, I made sure she was warm and safe. Brushing a calloused thumb over her jaw and her warm cheeks. And yet I couldn't leave. I was stuck, tethered to her like the hopeless tale of the moth drawn to the lit flame.

        I watched silently over her like a rabid canine as she slept, terrified at the thought that someone would even dare to touch a hair on her pretty little head.

        I didn't know why, didn't understand the effect she had on me. It was downright ridiculous and comically insane, but I would never question it.

        I heard the soft rustling of fabric, instantly sitting upright in the large armchair only to exhale a deep breath when I realized she was merely stirring in her sleep.

        Christ. I needed a cigarette or two.

        I inhaled another shaky breath only to be consumed with her faint yet feminine scent. Everywhere. Deep inside my soul and I knew I could never erase it no matter how hard I tried.

        I watched as her full, rose-bud lips parted softly and she exhaled even and shallow breath. In the moment, I realized that it would be easy—ridiculously simple for anyone to break into her apartment and place a hand on her, snuffing out that pretty fire in those deep brown eyes.

        The mere thought reverberated through me, leaving a wake of sizzling disdain and bone-chilling fear. No, I would never let anyone touch a hair on her head.

        The sound of faint vibration shook me out of my thoughts. My gaze slid over at the bright skin, and one glance at the caller ID was all it took for my already sour mood to turn even shitter.

        "What?" I spoke into the phone, my voice low and rough.

        "That's a first. Haven't answered my call in a year." He clicked his tongue. "Since your voice sounds very cheerful and happy, I'm assuming you're back."

        I sighed softly, running a palm down my jaw. "Yes." I wasn't supposed to take a trip to New York; it was unexpected and out of impulse, but I didn't regret a single thing about it.

        "Where is she?"

        "Asleep."

        "Where are you?" I opened my mouth to respond, perhaps tell him to fuck off and mind his business but he'd beaten me to it. "Oh shit. Wait, let me guess, you're watching her sleep?"

        My jaw clenched. "Beast. Is there a reason for this call?" There was a warning tone beneath my voice.

        If he knew better—if he knew what was good for him, he would stop talking and hang up. But then again, if there was one thing I knew about Beast, he never knew how to take a warning.