They Called Him Ash
"You killed him," I mutter, looking into those intense eyes.
"He fell in," he gritted out through clenched teeth, emphasizing every word as he took a step towards me.
I stay rooted to the spot, the lump in my throat increasing by the pounding second that ticked in my ears. The muscle in his jaw twitched, and I could tell that he was getting angrier.
He took my silence as a gesture to continue, the distance between us becoming shorter, the warmth of his skin and the intoxicating smell engulfing my senses. "What?" he whispers, craning his neck down so that he could look me in the face.
Bringing up his hand, he runs his thumb over my bottom lip, his warm breath fanning the tip of my nose. His lip ring shined intimidatingly as he licked his lips, biting them softly, then releasing, his eyes never leaving his thumb on my bottom lip. They look slightly crazed, and the breath in my throat catches. "You don't believe me?" he asks, his voice low and smooth, as if mockingly calm.
I don't say anything, and he chuckles softly, a smirk tilting the corner of his lips up. "You're going to have to wait in line, dollface, 'cause you're not the only person."
The night he came back and fucked everything up.
WARNING: This story may contain strong language, mild sexual content, and strong interpretations of violence.