𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐃│✔

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟑𝟖

Pandora

A sharp breath. My chest heavy, making it difficult to breath. Yet the air I breathe seems purer, clearer than anywhere else. I notice it in him too, the difficulty to keep the primal hidden beneath the humane.

"So," I swallow, failing to moister my dry throat, "You want to -"

"Adore you," he interrupts me, as if he knew what I was going to say. Even if I know that he's not like them,

"Crave you."

"Please you."

No, he's not like them at all.

"Admire you."

The thought itself seems laughable now that I think about it. He never did anything that would imply him sharing the mind of these predators, yet I judged him. My gaze turns hazy, the staring becoming too little we share. His tongue wetting his lips in a slow movement, as he takes a long look at my body.

"Eat you whole until your everything is consumed by me." A clawed finger poking at my chest, at what's madly pumping blood under it.

" So much so that I'm all that complex mind of yours can think about. So completely so that I'm all your little heart beats for."

The tilting of his head being nothing like the innocent movement he did in the ballroom. I blush, looking at my feet then his, at my chest then his, at my hand then his. So close, yet not enough.

Not nearly enough.

"So what you're saying is," I look back up to his eyes to see them battling between the natural and the magical, "You want to court me Approach me like a lover would."

A very distinct shade of grey, which should sound ironic, stares back at me. The moon his twin in the brightness of his stare. His hand raises to my stare, a human finger tracing the shape of my face - never grazing my skin. Yet somehow, his ghost touch is realer to my sense than anything seen, heard or the many floral scents registering in my head. The words rolling off his lips in slow, purposeful sentiment barely registering through my mind.

"Oh, I'm not going to approach you, I'll wait for you to come to me. I won't touch you. Not until you're ready. Not until you're begging me to, Not until your thoughts and mind are consumed with the ache of wanting me. Until then, I won't touch you. Not a graze. Not a stroke. Only a glance. Enough to tell you that I'll take all you're ready to give."

Pure dominance radiating from him, the vulnerability laying beneath barely attainable. His words, however contained they may seem, contrast the veins pulsing on his hand from the aggressiveness with which he clenches it. His difficulty to restrain himself only magnifying when I boldly take a step closer into him, successfully pressing the tip of my hardened nipples against his chest. And by the manner in which his body momentarily freezes, he feels them too.

"What if I want you to approach me?" I ask, slowly reaching up to twirl a dark curl that lays on his forehead, between my fingers. Softly pulling, enough for him to feel the tension reach his scalp, but not enough for it to do more than excite him further. I'm aware of the dangerous position I'm setting myself in, but it seems that I'm too blinded by the presence of him to set up a front.

I ache for him.

I crave for him as much as the feeling of empowerment that comes from the effect I have on him.

To what extend, or at what cost, I'm not sure. Whatever it is that makes my body and mind react this way towards him, I'm not sure of either. All I know, right here, right now, is that he wants me as much as I want him - if not more. And my future is far too unsure to let heartwarming moments go, no matter of fleeting they may be. No matter how insignificantly they may reappear later on in midst of ichor and death.