Octavius

iv

FINLEY

        The fancy dark elevator doors opened. I politely refused to be sent home, so Mr. Darhk offered to let me follow him on an interesting field trip — an underground bar. With the exception I had to stay beside him at all times.

Mr. Darhk held onto my soft frame, his grip firm and possessive as we winded through the heaps of sweaty, disheveled teenagers. The hand on my waist slid over the swell in my spine where it had connected to the rise of my backside.

        His calloused palm flattened against the spot, drawing me even closer, eliminating what modicum of space there had been between us. It left no doubt in anyone's mind who I was here with and that alone sent a thrill through me that I knew was wrong.

        Bad Finley.

        I let my hand momentarily fall against his, brushing past his calloused skin without warning and felt his whole rigid body tense up. My skin burned under his lethal touch from where he had touched me, like a explosive combustion that engulfed and consumed a moth that had fluttered dangerously close to the candle flame.

        What just happened? Oh sugars!

        "S-sorry," I mumbled in a soft voice. I let my gaze drop downward instinctively, feeling his stare become much more sultry. "I didn't mean to touch you without permission.. not that I would ever touch you without your permission. I'm not that kind of person, you know."

        His beautiful dark eyes held my face. I swallowed hard. The juxtaposition of him in a room filled with people while staring at no one but little old me was overwhelming.

        "Finley," His voice was as soft as velvet and incredibly sexy in a macabre way. I shivered unsinfully. Silent, deep breath brushed past the edge of my ear; the aroma of cologne surrounded me before he whispered low, "Take a deep breath."

        "Right, cool cool cool. That's on my to-do list." I glanced up, my eyes caught in his gaze all over again, directing a soft smile towards him.

        Like a dark, impenetrable forest, Mr. Darhk's expression stayed the same. Darn, I wanted to see him smile.

      Mental note to myself: Tell Mr. Darhk a funny joke so I can make him smile.

        Life was too short to spend moping around.

        "Cold?" A low, commanding voice asked. His large, cold hands slid down my waist, and settled on my hips, patting it softly as to ask me if the gesture was comfortable with me. 

        I shook my head from side to side while my eyes shimmered with acceptance. "Are you? Do you need your jacket? Oh sugars, I shouldn't have accepted it. I've heard you can die from hypo... hypo... what's that word again? I googled it." My face scrunched with bewilderment, as I lock eyes with Mr. Darhk's deceptively peaceful dark ones.

        "Hypothermia." He shook his head, one side of his beautiful full lips almost tugging upward yet his almost existent smile fell as his softened fixated gaze slightly darkened to observe another thing.

        I snuggled close to Mr. Darhk, delighting in the way he made me feel protected as he led me through the sweaty, enthusiastic crowd. A young man let out a shrieking yell, flinging his arms in the air, pushing roughly as opposed the heaps of dirty, bedraggled teenagers before colliding jarringly against me.