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Zoe
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As I looked in the direction of his door with wide eyes, I couldn't help but feel my heart flutter from his words. Even tired as he was, he still managed to compliment me after a whole day of helping me out. After saving me at the clinic by entering in the room with me, after the ballet class by threatening my bully, after the discipline lessons by trying to stop Mrs Nieto.
Raising my bandaged hands to my hair to untie it from the bun, I finally looked at my reflexion. The smile on my face had nothing to do with today's events. It all had to do with the bodyguard that laid next door. The good man who tried so hard to make it all better for me and still complimented me at the end of the night, though I wasn't far from breaking.
Oh, and he also gave great advice. Like… the thing with ruining my father through media? By staining his name? That was smart. But I'd need concrete proof not to be accused of lying after. My father could do that, so I needed video and recordings and… God, a lot more.
Heavily sighing at the thought and the fact that my hands hurt from fumbling them in my hair, then trying to hold the brush, I stood up. Haltingly I walked to the door between our bedrooms, but stopped right in front of it, afraid I would do something stupid by what I was about to ask.
I found the courage to knock somewhere in my gut, from where I waited nervously as I bit my lip. A few moments later, the door was swung open… revealing very much naked male chest!
My eyes grew the sizes of saucers as they stared down at his very, very muscular chest, no cloth covering it now. The muscles were smooth as they traced a beautiful light tan shade, shining like gold in the light. His biceps seemed bigger now without the black clothing, more than the size of my thighs, a long snake tattoo spreading from his pectoral all the way to his wrist around which the tail knotted. Only one per total was tattooed, while the other only gleamed from the light, pinkish nipples on full display. He was scarred in certain places, by probably knives and whatnot, bullets, but the scars weren't many.
My stare went lower, regardless how much I tried to restrain myself. Oh… my! He had an eight pack, a slim waist with no ounce of fat on! My eyes intended even lower to his beautifully craved V-line, hiding lower under his pair of black leather what was-
Oh, God! Too low! Definitely too low!
Snapping my eyes up, I was met by the smug smirk on his figure and a cocked brow that inquired about my eyes whereabouts.
"I'm sorry," I croaked, then cleared my throat, feeling my face hotter than the sun, "I'm sorry to bother, I… need some help."
"Sure," he said calmly, "what do you need me for?"
Well, there would be a few things. You can rip those leathers off and climb naked in my bed so I can-
I cut that train of thought straight away as I raised the brush I held in my flat palm. If I curled my fingers around it, my wounds would sting and I really didn't want to hurt more tonight.
"I can't hold my brush… can you, uhm, if you don't mind, of course-"
"I'll brush your hair," he smiled, stepping into my bedroom. He didn't close the door to his room as he led me to the vanity and sat me down.
Okay, I didn't expect him to accept so quick. Or accept, whatsoever.
After untying my hair properly, seeing I barely managed to move the bun out of place and mess it up, he finger combed my hair himself a little. I stared into the mirror, and was enchanted to see the warmth on his figure. The small smile he had as he played through my waves, the satisfaction he seemed to feel.
"You have beautiful hair," he murmured when he noticed my stare, raising the hairbrush to the top of my head. "Tell me if I pull too hard."
But there was absolutely no need for that. He was so gentle with every swipe of the brush. So very delicate with every single motion. It felt surreal to have such a menace, such a male animal do something so… so very gentle.
I never thought I would look at my hair like I could… like it again, but the way he stared at it as he moved through the colorful strands had me thinking otherwise.
"You're staring," he announced. "See something you like?"
"Yeah," I mumbled bewitched, "I do."
He smiled more at that, looking at me through the mirror. "Glad you do, kitten."
My stomach fluttered with butterflies as I returned the easiest smile I ever had to anyone. Only because it was real. Actually… real!
"I don't mean to ruin the moment, but can I ask where you have been for the past four years? If you don't mind, I just heard the mention a lot," he said in a respectful manner that only had me melting more.
"I was in college," I said lowering my eyes to my hands, from where my voice turned bitter, "My parents and I struck a deal. I would get my education if they… if they found me a suitable husband. It wasn't going go be different either ways, but I promised I wouldn't fight it if I got my education."
"Husband?" He growled the world in such a vile manner, my eyes raised back to him in a heartbeat.
I shrank back in my chair, but not it horror. As his emerald eyes darkened with fury, pure and hot, a vein popped in his neck at how he clenched his teeth, his hard body tensing, his hand stopping from stroking my hair with the brush. And even though he was intimidating in his anger, even terrifying, he no longer seemed so to me. The soft side he had shown had me knowing he wouldn't harm me.
No, in fact… he seemed all more beautiful in his anger. Just like a feline preparing its attack on another that crossed the territory.
He quickly shook his head, as if catching himself, "Sorry, didn't… mean to react like that."
Now he looked ashamed, less angered on the subject, more on himself. For what? I didn't know.
"It's alright," I smiled, placing my hand over his as it rested on the back of the chair. "But yeah, my father… he needs to hand over his business to a man." I scoffed, shaking my head. "But at least I got four years of break time. No family visits or calls or anything, they just payed for my college tuition and let me live with my best friend."
"You went four years in college, so you would get married… willingly?" He arched his brows, stopping midway down my neck with the brush again.
"No, if I could I'd stop all this nonsense," I muttered, looking at my hands. "I would run away and forget about it, but-"
"Then it would fall on your sister," he continued comprehensively, returning to brushing. "But what if you… like him? Your future husband?"
The thought made me cringe right away. There was no way I was going to like my future meant to be, only because I knew what to expect from my father. Also because he had introduced me to a supposed to be before I started college.
"It'll be a forty years old man with the same mentality as my father."
His brows rose, his lips pursing. "You might have a point there, but… what if he's better than that? He just puts on a show for your father."
I shook my head at his suggestion. "Not possible."
"Well, he picked me." He smirked while wiggling his brows at me.
"Yeah, but he knows everything about you by now."
"No, he doesn't."
"He probably has people following your family by now," I shook my head slowly, arguing with him.
Elijah leaned down to my ear after brushing curly strands behind my ear. "Your father doesn't know shit about me, kitten."
The way he stared at me into the mirror made me reconsider my words. Would… my father really not know everything about Elijah? Indeed, he seemed like a mysterious man, but my father had the custom of not letting anyone in without knowing everything about them. It was just his way to be.
"And he won't know until I want him to," he kissed my cheek before returning to his enormous height, continuing with the soothing motion of the brush.
My cheek tingled from the kiss he had laid so softly, a little even from his goatee. My hand twitched to touch the spot he had with his mouth, but I held myself from following through with the instinct. Getting lost in the way he cared for my hair, my chest almost ached at his easy movements.
"When you tripped Georgianna earlier today," I began, my voice sounding too raspy all of a sudden. He tensed with the mention as I cleared my throat. "I thought you would help her up. They… they were talking in the locker room about you."
"I know, I saw them eyeing me instead of paying attention to that mean lady," he grumbled, shaking his head. "They were wrong, y'know? You weren't that bad, just a little… rusty."
I smiled a little as I sighed, closing my eyes. "I know. I hate ballet. I hated it since I was a kid. It was good to have a break for a few years." I smiled. "My feet looked better than ever, but now…? God, I can't imagine returning to their previous shape. I already have a few bruises forming… and this week I'm supposedly returning to violin as well. My other nemesis."
He snickered warmly, wearing a weak smile that slowly saddened. "I'm sorry you have to do something you hate. I don't want you unhappy…"
"It is what it is, after all," I lowered my brows, fluttering my lids up. "I suppose life doesn't always give us what we want."
"Well, if you're so sure your fate is sealed," he exhaled slowly before continuing with a tentative smile, "I suppose you won't mind telling me what your future dream… was?"
A smile tugged at the corners of my lips, his mere interest warming my heart. Of course, I wasn't sure I could trust him with anything I was saying, but… he had this flair that made it easy for me to open up. He made me comfortable, which was rarer for a woman in such a household.
"I wanted to be a writer," I blushed a little as I continued, "I always loved to read. I read all the books I got my eyes on. When father wasn't watching, I even stole some from his office, even if they were the most boring, historical books I have ever read, I liked getting lost in the facts of the past as was the case, or the imagination of another. It felt like I was in people's minds." I tilted my head on the side, chewing my lip as I thought. "But I never was truly satisfied with the work of others. It felt like I wanted to have my own outcome, my own characters, my own… world."
"What would you write about?"
I bit my lip, my eyes darting to the ground. "Don't laugh at me if I tell you."
"Cross my heart and hope to die," he signed above his chest and X, his raised brows and big smile asking me to continue.
I cleared my throat at the feeling of the heat burning my throat and inching higher. "Aboutlove," I muttered under my breath.
"Can… uh, can you repeat that? I don't think-"
"Love, I wanna write about love," I said a little louder. "But not… that sexual kind of thing and neither the… love at first sight nonsense. Just two people finding each other and falling slowly in love. Through sweet gestures, dates, not sex."
He hummed, nodding at me. "You don't like sexual chemistry and love at first sight? My… those are the most famous ones…"
"Oh, please! Shakespeare with Romeo and Juliet who killed themselves for one another? Ridiculous! And don't get me started with those books in which the main character sleeps with a total stranger and then they fall in love because of that chemistry." I shuddered at the thought. "It's dumb."
"You do seem to have a strong opinion about this. I guess the readers from this book are a little disappointed at the news," Elijah mumbled.
"What?"
"What?" He asked in the same confusion I had. Shaking his head as if to clear it, he looked down at my hair after pausing, "I think your hair is through with me brushing it."
The whine of protest that almost parted my lips at the sound of the words, had me frowning. It was weird how his mere presence gave me a dependence of him, but it surely came with the easy way he seemed to have around him. I could understand now why the colleagues from my ballet class were so… enthralled by him.
He truly was one of a kind.
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Jerome
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My brows furrowed as I swiped my fingers through her soft hair one last time. Greatly saddened that my time having more than just visual contact with her was over, I laid the brush down on the vanity and looked at her in the mirror.
She was smiling up at me in a way nobody else ever was. She was admiring me… and not in a flirtatious kind of way that begged for attention of another type. It was the type of admiration that came with respect and appreciation. Not fear, not sexual want, not… anything of the kind.
Just respect and appreciation. And wasn't that a kick in the balls to the guy who was lying to her about almost- scratch that, mostly everything?
Suddenly uncomfortable sitting in the bed I had laid for myself, I looked away, clearing my throat. "You should get some sleep. Tomorrow isn't going to be any better than today."
"You're right," she nodded, standing up from her seat, but keeping her back at me. "Would you mind helping me with the zipper? I can't reach it without ripping the bandages."
Right. Unzip her zipper. Just that. Sure, it couldn't be that hard… could it?
Scratching my goatee once before lowering my hands to her back, my heart never beat as fast as it did just now. It thundered in my ears so loud it was a wonder she couldn't hear it herself and my breath was… a ragged attempt to inhale and exhale calmly.
My fingers shook ever so slightly from the sexual frustration that built inside me. With one hand I gripped the hem of the dress, while with the other I grasped the silver zipper. I ripped it down so fast, a passing thought of me breaking it, managing to distract me for a moment. But only one moment, that light, rosy colored skin was revealed.
As the lapels from her dress fell apart, smooth scapula bones with a very straight and femininely gorgeous shaped spine caught my eye. My breath caught in my throat as I stared at the way her colorful waves stained that beautiful skin.
"Thank you," she said warmly, moving to step away.
Before I knew what was doing, my hand was pressed on her back, right between her shoulder blades, and her body fell still, stiffening like a board. I stepped closer, moving my hand lower to feel her silk-like delicateness. I felt my way up and down her arched spine, perfectly straight, no hunchback, no flaw.
"Elijah," she murmured to protest at my touch, but I was far gone to be reasoned with.
The growl that left me at the sound of that name… not my name… it formed a frown on my face, but at the same time it didn't stop me from holding my hand on her spine. I wasn't going to go anywhere else unless she gave me her word… which she didn't have to speak.
"Fuck me," I muttered, feeling her shiver under my palm, my eyes closing tightly.
She didn't like this. She didn't like this more than what that doctor had done to her today. I was violating her just how that bastard had been earlier in the morning. The sickness made me instantly pull away, almost clasp a hand over my mouth.
Jesus… Christ!
"I'm sorry, I… I went too far," I blabbered before turning around and gunning for my door. Once I was closed in my room, I scolded myself for what I did while I ran for the bathroom. The bile came out in a rush, straight down into the toilet and I didn't even bother hold back the terrible meal I'd had. After more heaving, I managed to stop and stand up on loose legs. I washed my face and returned to the room. Pacing around the room after opening the balcony door, I smoked a couple of handrolled.
It took me a while before I finally settled down in front of my laptop at the table. As I logged into my account, I kept drumming my fingers on the table, the cig burning up to one inch before I shook it in the ashtray.
I began trying to crack that firewall they used on their security system and for two hours, all I did was struggle with that shit and smoke. Up until I ran out of cigs and I had to roll up more Tobacco.
Cursing to hell and back, I had no choice but to go through with the task. As I was licking the end of the paper to roll my fifth cig, an idea popped in my mind.
Leaving that system crap for later, I got into the pictures I had taken earlier with my phone from Narah's medical file. My eyes narrowed as I inspected the too describable writing.
Unlike most doctors' writing, this was actually eligible. Me, knowing Damien who had such a nasty handwriting you couldn't make the difference between words and hieroglyphics, I was shocked. Even Piper had a freaky handwriting, for real.
But Doc Moreno over here had a beautiful handwriting compared to any doctor I have ever read a prescription of. Luckily, his full name was written besides his signature in bold, printed letters.
I hadn't bothered to remember his full name, that was why I took a picture of the name in his file. Wasting my memory with irrelevant people like him wasn't worth it. What was worth it, was torturing and then killing them.
Plans bloomed in my mind all at once, the thought of making him a bird sounding way too appealing. I was going to make him suffer first, tho. First I'd introduce him to Physical-pain, then his older sister, Psychological-trauma, both of which very efficient and overly amusing. For the torturer. The victim wasn't supposed to have such a hot time during that.
Well, unless the victim was someone like me…
Yeah, yeah, I was a masochist like that. And what? I was already a sadist, so adding another flaw to the pile wasn't a big deal.
Getting a good look at the man's file, record, everything that could give me information on him, I found out… he was one hell of a famous doctor in the city, according to all the diplomas and prizes he received along the years. Getting the address of where he lived, I managed to put my hands on the blueprints of the building in which he had a penthouse.
The plan that came to my mind was beautiful… and nothing compared to what was about to go down.