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I didn't know what time it was, but I'd been lying in my bed for ages, trying to sleep, but I couldn't ever close my eyes.
I was thinking too much, and it was getting exhausting.
I needed to know who was trying to kill me, and I needed to know if it was Sebastain.
If it was, I was walking into a trap that I might not have been able to escape.
I didn't know Sebastain that well, but it felt like I'd known him for years.
He was right though, if he wanted me dead, he'd just mind control me to jump off a bridge.
It was horrifying that he had that power, but it was true.
If he wanted me dead, I'd be dead.
That meant that... maybe he was a good guy?
But who wanted to hurt me? Why? And what did I do?
Sebastain never gave off hints, and I was starting to get frustrated.
He told me that he didn't want me to know because it would break the protection spell he placed on my mind, but at the same time, I felt like he was keeping so many secrets, and I was starting to wonder if that was true.
I closed my eyes tightly, rolling over on my bed and staring off into the darkness.
I wondered what he was doing... was he asleep? It was one in the morning or something, I thought.
I then sat up, rubbing my eyes lazily as I slipped off my bed and pushed the ends of my nightgown down.
I then gazed up, stepping toward my bedroom door and parted it, making my way into the hallway.
I walked straight forward, knowing that his bedroom was on the right corner of the house, directly across from mine all the way down the hall.
I'd never been in there before, but I needed something to do, and I suspected that he didn't sleep.
After walking what felt like a mile, I stopped in front of his bedroom door and knocked, waiting patiently for an answer.
When none came, my brows drew together.
I knocked again, listening.
Nothing.
I stood fully then, sputtering my lips.
Maybe he was asleep.
I was about to leave, but a sound came from my right:
"Looking for Sebastain?"
I glazed up, finding Claire across the hall a little bit away from me, carrying a laundry basket in her hands and clearly making her way to the room.
I nodded, keeping silent.
She smiled slightly. "He's in the training room; in the basement."
I parted my lips, smiling at her. "Thanks."
She nodded and walked off to her room.
I just turned and started to the staircase.
Why was he training this late?
I decided not to question it further and spent the next ten minutes walking down the staircase to the basement and circling around the halls until I met the double doors to the training room.
The door was parted, a sliver of light glowing under the cracks of the wood, and I heard a slight beat of music and angry grunting.
I lightly pushed the door and let it creak open, and my lips parted when I found Sebastain:
His back was to me, though he was shirtless, sweat glistening on his tan skin as he held some kind of wooden pole, twirling it around and thrusting it forward like it was a sword.
I watched for a moment, mesmerized as he twirled it like a baton and swung it left and right, hitting air but it looked like he was striking the sides of some invisible person.
But my eyes trailed down to his back, curiosity burning through me when I found those odd tattoos circling his shoulders like beautiful swirls, and they spiraled around his neck and the top of his back, but everything else was blank.
Except for the two, large V-shaped scars lined along his back.
Whoa...
I wondered what those tattoos represented, and what those scars conveyed. Did he still have wings or were they torn off?
Sebastain spun the pole for a second before he twirled around, and I yelped, jumping back when he pointed it directly at me.
He smiled then, standing back up fully as the music still lightly beat in the background.
I stared as he tossed his hair off his face and threw the pole to the side, and my mouth dropped when it slid gracefully back into some bucket on the far wall.
Sebastain smiled and caught a towel as he stepped over to the speaker, pressing a button to pause the music as he dried himself off with the cloth.
After, he just tossed the towel aside and locked eyes with me.
He was sweating up a storm... but why the hell did he smell so good? It was like he bathed himself in fresh deodorant.
"Hey," he said, tipping his head to the side, "can't sleep?"
"No," I replied quietly.
He just eyed me curiously. "You can step in here, you know."
"O—oh," I said, glancing around nervously as I stepped in the room, leaving the door cracked behind me.
He smiled at my shyness. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I replied too quickly.
He chuckled, shaking his head. "You're such a bad liar."
I watched him.
He then glanced up at me with a half-smile. "You wanna touch them, don't you?"
I parted my lips, feeling a hot blush settle across my face. "Touch what?"
"You know what I'm talking about," he said, turning fully toward me, "don't act oblivious."
I only blinked, taking a step back.
He just nodded in his direction. "Come here."
I looked around nervously.
He chuckled. "Skye, come here."
I just walked forward cautiously, struggling to keep my composure as his heat swarmed me every time I stepped closer.
When I made it to him, he suddenly caught my arms, and I yelped when he shoved me against him.
I nearly started gasping when he wrapped an arm around me, keeping me pressed to his chest as I stared, and he just caught my wrist with his free hand and guided it to his back.
I gasped when they brushed against his right scar, and he wrapped his second arm around me.
I froze, remaining still because I didn't know what to do.
"Touch them," he said, setting his cheek on my head, "don't be shy."
I stared down at his chest as I moved my arm up, brushing my fingers along his wing scar, and he just sucked in a breath, melting into me.
I remained in place, continuing to feel him as he started stroking the small of my back in return.
They were so... soft.
I always wondered what they felt like... I didn't think I'd ever find out.
But I... liked this. They were so soft.
Though I just moved my hand up, touching a small section of his inky tattoos and brushed my finger on it.
It just felt like skin... why did it look so inky and stick and felt like skin?
"Why do you have tattoos?" I asked him then.
He was breathing quietly, voice soft as he answered, "They're runes. Marking you as fallen. You get them when you're born, and they're red when you're an angel, but once you fall, they turn black."
I kept touching them. "They look so inky, but they feel like skin...."
He chuckled against me. "You like touching them?"
I nodded shyly. "Yes... your skin is very soft."
He just brushed his fingers through my hair, still melting into me as I kept brushing my fingers along his runes.
But he just pulled back, and I only had a chance to glance at him before he tipped my chin up and clasped our lips together.
I shattered.
I pulled up against him, tangling his locks in my fingers as he held me against him.
His lips were soft... and he tasted like mint. I liked how he tasted, it was so fresh and unique, and I never wanted to let go.
He kept me to him, both of us tussled and tangled, and I kept trying to pull against him, but this moment was so much that I felt my legs weaken under me.
I didn't think I could stand for much longer; I was too exhausted and emotional. I couldn't bear this.
Happiness flooded over me; followed by sadness and frustration and... euphoria.
For the shortest amount of time I trusted him—I depended on him, believed in him, even... loved him—and I felt the resistant side of me fading.
But he just pulled away, trailing kisses along my jaw and I gasped, clutching onto him when I tipped my head back, finding him making his way down my neck.
When he made it to the nape, he gently bit the skin, and I sucked in a breath, moaning.
I knew that he could've bitten down and drank my blood, I knew that right here I was so vulnerable to him, and I knew that any second, he could snap my neck and watch me die and cripple under him, but I also knew that... he wouldn't.
He wouldn't.
I felt like I could trust him... I felt like I could've tripped and fell over and he'd catch me... I felt like I could scream and cry in pain and he would hold me, entangle me, soothe me.
I just didn't know why... and I didn't think I could hold myself anymore.
Did he want to kill me?
No.
Did he want to hurt me?
No.
Was someone out there, and attempting to hunt me?
I didn't care.
I just wanted to keep him there, holding me, soothing me, kissing me.
I wanted to tangle against him and lose every sense of self that I had.
No, he didn't want to kill me or hurt me... No, he wanted to get close to me.
And I wanted him to.
But—as he continued teasing the skin of my neck—my legs buckled, and he suddenly caught me, pulling away as I kept my head tipped back, struggling to stand.
He just lowered us both to the ground, helping me sit on his lap as I tried to regain my composure.
He just pulled me against him, rocking me slightly like I was a terrified child, but I felt him smiling.
"Too much?" he asked me.
I buried my face in his neck. "I've never been kissed before. It's... hard."
"Hard to stand because it hurts?" he said, pushing hair behind my ear. "Or is it just so overwhelming that you can't stand?"
"Overwhelming," I said, closing my eyes tightly. "And... I just...."
He smiled down at me when I tailed off. "You just what?"
I parted my lashes, noticing that all hatred, resentment, and fear of him vanished in seconds, and I started to think that when he kissed me, he sucked all the fear out of me.
Because right now I was so tired, but I felt like I was on fire... I was burning with him; I was burning but I loved it.
"Can you do something for me?" I asked him.
"Do what?" he whispered.
I glanced up at him. "I don't think I can stand more kissing," I replied, making him smile. "I'm so tired, but... I feel alive and I want it to last."
I wasn't sure if he understood what I was saying... because even I didn't know what I was saying.
"So..." I said, questioning my sanity, "don't let go."
I felt him smile.
"Okay," he said, "then I won't."87Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡceA3W5tcp6
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A/N: Thoughts about the story???
