NIGHT: 01

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                                      —"IF YOU'RE GOING TO KILL ME DO IT

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"IF YOU'RE GOING TO KILL ME DO IT."

The sharp tongue of the girl snapped immediately, echoing around the room like a threatening ballad.

He smiled again.

Rukun's smile was only one to be described as sickeningly beautiful. At first look, if no context was added, you would feel your heart beat in symphonies just at the first glance. It was lovely, as if it were meant for you. But at a closer look; just at a second glance, you noticed the sharpened canines that prodded out of his mouth. The quip of evil tainting his bottom lip.

"The night is still young, Azade. Is that it?"

"Yes." She croaked, immediately sinking back into the window seat. Perhaps he couldn't kill her easily if she was sitting down.

Rukun moved over to the desk on the opposite end of the room; much to her relief, and picked a cherry out of the golden vase that sat on top of it. He crushed the fruit effortlessly, leaving only red stained hands and a cherry pit in its wake.

He smirked wickedly.

"I can feel your fear, is this truly the worst thing you have ever experienced? Being a slave and all?" Azade felt offended at the question, not wanting to satisfy him with the answer. But perhaps if she could truly gain his attention, he would forget to kill her.

Looking at his red stained hands, she watched him nod his head to the guard outside the door for a washcloth.

"Well?" He asked once again, wiping his hands on the cloth and staining its white fabric in the process.

God, she would've gotten beat for that.

Azade wondered how many lashes a stained cloth would've bought her. 20? 30? 50?

"Greeting an impending death, is surely no enjoyable task."

"Is that your final answer?"

He slowly strolled around the desk, his back facing her. Unnervingly she found herself counting the muscles on his back.

Azade analyzed him; Rukun's dark and cropped hair, surely to be always accompanied by a crown. His fighter-like build. His stealth that resembled a predator, perhaps a lion.

"Must I always repeat myself?" He asked slowly, making sure every syllable reached her ears.

"I didn't understand the question."

He turned to her and gazed holes into her eyes. Azade shifted uncomfortably, men in her culture were supposed to lower their gaze at the sight of a woman, but it seemed he didn't really care. He would let her feel uncomfortable. He would make her fear him.

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