A Howl in the Night

~ Introduced To An Incredibly Hot Psycho Man

~ Introduced To An Incredibly Hot Psycho Man

~ Mona ~

I wake, my eyes fluttering as they focus to the brightness surrounding me. All I can see is a single blob hovering above me, a blur of colors flipping and weaving, twisting and turning. 

"Are you awake?" a beautiful, musical voice rips through the void I am suspended in, bringing me to the present with a thud. Everything suddenly shifts into focus, the blurred edges sharpening into easily distinguished images. 

Am I dreaming?

A spectacularly handsome man stares at me, his startling green eyes disconcerting me with their brightness. I feel myself get lost in them, examining their wondrous beauty, trapped in their spectacular gaze.

His skin is tan and muscled, his arms bulging, his hands strong and firm. Wearing a t-shirt and cargo shorts, he is dressed casually, yet he has an elegance that can't be explained. 

Last but not least, I look to his hair. Straight and long, his hair cuts off around his jawbone, framing his face with pride. Layers are all over the place, short wisps accompanied by long strands, carelessly tousled. The bangs make me subconsciously want to push them aside so I can gaze evermore into his eyes with no distractions. 

The strangest thing about his hair, though, is that it is blue. A royal blue, even, that shines in the sunlight. But the hair suits him, complimenting his lightly tanned skin and emerald eyes.

"Hello?" he asks again, his voice soothing to my ears. I blink once, trying to adjust to the incredible handsomeness before me. A man this beautiful has never been within five feet of me before. 

Finally examining myself, I notice that my leg is not bleeding anymore, covered with a thick bandage. My shoulder is covered likewise.

I am laying on a soft, plushy divan, pure white in color, creamy silk lining the edges. The floor is of pure marble, a deep black with hints of white trying to squeeze its way into the tile. A huge chandelier, crystals dancing generously just below its metal limbs, hangs delicately on a thin, gray wire in the center of the chamber. There is an impressive array of books, a gigantic bookcase elongating from wall to wall. 

But, of course, all my attention focuses on the man.

He chuckles as I scan his face yet again, taking in his perfection, looking at masculine features that, at my school, I used to only be able to observe from afar. 

I cough once, attempting to croak some words out of my mouth. "Shh," he whispers, holding his hand over my mouth, "your throat is probably dry. Let me get you some water first." His hand feels so comfortable, and I feel, somehow, saddened when he releases it from my face. 

As he travels over to a stainless steel sink, I am unable to find a single emotion conveyed in his saunter. He seems to glide, walking in a way that’s almost impossible to describe.

That is only one of the strange things I notice about him.

Another thing that perks my curiosity is his eyes. When I skimmed over it before, I hadn’t noticed the reflection of the light upon his pupils.

Now, as I more carefully observe, I realize there is no reflection. The light doesn’t bounce off his eye, but rather, sinks into it. It is barely noticeable, even by me, the queen of scrutiny, but I now can see the difference. The bright, emerald green seems to snatch the light and display it in his irises, his pupils a deep black in comparison. When I look at them, and he returns my gaze, my form is not visible in his pupil.