"Why don't you just leave me alone?" I spit at him, the anger laced in my voice angered him and I loved it. I watched as he clenched his jaw, staring at me as his eyes darkened; walking up to me, soon towering over me making me realize how small I w...
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─── ･ ｡ ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
A COLD, painful shiver went down my entire body at his question. I angled my body away from him, almost completely shutting myself off. My eyes, which I knew all too well would give away that I wasn't telling the truth, were glued to the marble floor underneath my feet, which dangled loosely off my chair.
The stiff, cold, and the well known unwelcoming air between our two placid silhouettes kept the both of our minds concentrated on not each other but everything surrounding just that. It was tense, more uneasy than when I'd first been so close to Daìnn.
There was a tense silence; everything immediately grew serious, and the warmth in my stomach turned to a sick feeling of feverish disgust. Disgust, disgust that I'd brought so foolishly upon my own guard, by being so vivacious and careless in my feeble attempts to hide the most prominent, painstakingly private, and perhaps only secret I had.
Perhaps that was also why I'd wanted so badly to hide it. Because even after I'd woken up completely unaware and clueless of everything that I'd slept through, and even though I was still confused as to who the strange, beautiful girl was that had started to pay me satire visits, she was also something—someone that I grew comfortable with.
And had Mattheo—or anyone, for that matter, found out about her, the lengths he'd—Mattheo— would go to figure out who she was and even more so how to rid her of me, would be endless and so unraveling that my stomach turned just thinking of it.
"Calantha," Daìnn said again, his hands behind his back with his chest high in the air. His black dress shirt was slightly open at the top, but not too much, and his entire aura was perfect—so dark that it chilled me everytime I so much as looked his way, but no matter what, each time I couldn't look away.
He was dark in every possible way an attractive man could be.
He lured and stole, knew what he wanted and got it, and even in hurting everyone around him, would eventually earn their forgiveness.
Dark Mark or not, he was dangerous. Manipulative. Smart.
It wasn't that he'd strangely shown up at Hogwarts, nor that Mattheo caused a scene about it—I didn't care about that. It wasn't necessarily that I cared about anything, but the fascination that lured me into wanting to know more about him was real.
"I'm going to ask you one more time," he pressed closer to the table, our eyes now connected, fear laced in my every vein. My knees buckled under the table and a small smile crept onto his rugged lips, where he watched my breath grow uneven. Did he know how it was getting harder to control my breathing? I asked myself. I wouldn't be surprised.
