She's the Devil | ✔

Chapter Ten

Xavier

Macaria throws back another shot of tequila and grins at me. I give her a thumbs up, sliding a glass of water across the kitchen counter. I told her it's better to drink water in between alcoholic beverages because then it helps flush out her system. Lower risk of alcohol poisoning and a bit more time to party. Macaria sips the water, strutting over to me. I grin at how drunk she is, finding it amusing to see her so giggly.

She hiccups, "This is amazing."

"Yeah, sure is." I respond, scanning the living room. The open concept of Mark's house makes it easy to watch for him. Who we have yet to find.

"Oh this is my favorite song!" Macaria bobs her head, swaying with the music that I can't quite hear.

"Let's dance," She grabs my arm and drags me to the dining room, where the hardwood floor is being used as a makeshift dance floor.

Mark's dining room is actually quite spacious, it's larger than his kitchen. But the amount of people in the room makes it feel small. Macaria squeezes her way through the people, pulling me in front of her. The smooth lyrics and sensual music of 'Nobody' by Sweat plays over the crowd. Macaria hums, draping her arms over my shoulders, the heel of her boots making this possible. I hold her close, leaning down so my face is next to hers, we sway together for a few moments, enjoying the slow music.

Then some upbeat pop song comes on, and Macaria surprises me with her dance moves. Her movement is fluid, and something I'd expect to see on one of those TV dance shows. She moves her hips to the music, closing her eyes as she gets into it. I'm so mesmerized by her that I just stand there, watching. Forgetting to dance myself.

"Come on, dance with me," Macaria grabs my hands, pressing her back against my chest, crossing my arms around her. She moves us, her hips rolling and swaying with the beats.

We dance for a while, throwing in different types of dance. I lead her in salsa for a brief bit then we grind against each other and which back to slow dancing despite it not being a slow song. My hands rest on her hips while she has her cheek pressed against my chest. It seems like forever before we wander off the dance floor.

"I think I need some more drinks," Macaria grabs me, leading to the kitchen. This time, we find Mark draped across the keg, drinking straight from the tube.

Macaria goes to make a drink while I nudge a plastered Mark, "We've been looking for you all night."

His blood shot eyes lift to mine and he smiles lazily, the tube running out of his mouth filling with beer as he drinks away. He pauses, "Sorry dude, I was fucking these two babes." He winks. I scrunch up my nose.

"I don't want to know." I tell him, glancing over my shoulder. Macaria is no where to be found. Panic strikes me briefly as I turn to look back through the archway into the dining room.

I don't see her there either. I grab Mark by the arm, yanking the tube out of his mouth. "We need to find Macaria."

"Dude, chill. She probably just went to the bathroom." He jerks his arm out of my hold, swaying on his feet. I scowl at him, almost blurting out that I can't afford for anything to happen to her.

But instead I decide he wouldn't be much help anyway and leave him swaying in the kitchen.

I duck and dodge people, my eyes searching for the familiar strawberry blonde hair. I search the entire first floor, even sending some girl into the bathroom to see if she's there, before moving on to the second floor. I check every door, walking in on some things I don't want to see.

It isn't until I make it down to the basement that I hear her scream. I follow it into the basement bathroom, finding her pressed against a wall by a guy around my size. I rarely ever lose my temper, or even get mad. Mostly it's just irritation that I feel. I usually am pretty easy going.

But right now, rage floods my body. I see red, I feel red and I taste red, somehow. It doesn't even feel like my body. My vision blurs as I grab the guy, slamming him into the opposite wall. The smug look on his face falters for a second, then he smirks, headbutting me. I don't even flinch, let alone feel the impact. Instead, my vision goes black.

When I come down from the adrenaline rush amd rage, the guy lies crumpled on the ground in a pool of his own blood. His breathing is shallow, but he's alive. And for some reason, I wish he weren't. Macaria stares at me, tears streaming down her face.

I open my arms to her, sighing when she hugs me tightly. Her body fits so perfectly against mine, it's almost as if she were made to fit against me. I walk us backwards out of the bathroom, holding Macaria as if she might disappear on me.

"Are you hurt?" I mumble, stroking her hair.

"I'm fine. He was sent by someone to hurt me." She replies, buring her face in my shoulder.

I frown, "What do you mean?"

She doesn't respond for a few moments, "I'm the heir to the throne, Xavier. I'm a walking target."

I kiss the top of her head, then rest my chin on top of her head gently. She keeps her arms wrapped firmly around me. At least it wasn't what I thought it was. I probably would have killed him. God, why am I thinking like this? Thinking about killing people isn't me.

Maybe it's because I'm now thinking about more than myself.

"They'll have to go through me, first."