Heath by mesmores
He started to move, stalking towards me slowly, muscles rippling, like a predator moving in on its prey. He exuded power and confidence with every step, and my hand subconsciously tightened its grip on the dagger nervously.
Steeling myself, I waited for the perfect moment to attack, counting down mentally in my head.
3...
2...
1!
I lunged forward, gripping the silver dagger tightly, the sharp tip aimed towards his chest...
but it never reached its target.
The next thing I knew, my dagger was lying abandoned on the ground, his large build was keeping me trapped against the rough bark of a tree and one hand was firmly pinning both my arms above my head.
I stared at him with wide eyes, my brain still trying to comprehend how he had moved so quickly, as he brought his free hand up to my wet cheek, sparks erupting at his soft and feather-like touch.
His pitch black eyes implored mine, electricity buzzing between us, as he asked in husky voice that sent shivers up my spine, "Why are you crying, mia bella?"