He'll have to break all the rules to keep her, but first she has to break just one and let him in...
It's taken four years, but Anna Fray has finally put the past behind her. Mostly. She fills her days working in a bar and her nights watching bad ro...
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My eyes were a blur as I stomped down the stairs and out the kitchen door.
I faintly heard Aslo say a sardonic 'goodbye' as the door slammed behind me.
It wasn't just the accusation in Atticus' voice that hit me hard; it was the subliminal truth in what he'd said and the embarrassment of trying to take a step forward, as he'd asked, and finding it was all too little too late.
The sting of the cold night air froze the tears in place, giving me a moment of composure while I fumbled with the gate at the bottom of the metal stairs. By the time I opened my kitchen door, and saw Nightmare scoot past me, I knew I just had to hold on a few more moments. Then I could climb into bed and forget this whole fucking day.
That plan was snuffed out the second I heard a soft thud beside me, and an arm barricaded the doorway, blocking my path.
I sucked in a breath.
I could taste him on my tongue, feel the heat of him warming the space between us while his breath tickled the back of my neck.
"You drive me fucking crazy, you know that don't you?" he murmured against my ear, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.
I turned towards him, blinking away the tears.
"Do you know how weird that is for a Watcher?" he said with a baffled frown. "I'm not meant to feel frustrated, or confused, or happy or excited. I'm not meant to feel anything. But when I'm around you... I've never felt so alive." His gaze burned as he spoke, and I felt my skin glow as the heat from upstairs returned with a vengeance.
Whether he could tell the effect his words had on me or not, he continued to unravel before me. "Every time we're together, I want things I've never even cared about. Things I shouldn't want."
His hand tugged at the damp strands of his hair, like even as he spoke the words, he was punishing himself for voicing them.
"Like what?" I asked in a weak voice, stunned by the juxtaposition of the man before me and his stoic counterpart upstairs.
He glanced up at the moon peeping through the clouds, and as he did, I couldn't help but think that he was a slice of something ethereal in the mundane grey backdrop of my back yard. The surrealism of the scene emphasised by the way the moon made his eyes glitter and his skin and hair sit in stark contrast.
"I want to stand on a cliff and feel fear make my heart race in my chest" he said in a desolate tone as he dreamt aloud of the impossible.
His gaze dropped from the sky above to capture my own.
"I want to find my favourite song and turn it up so it resonates in my bones."
With an infinitesimal step, he inched closer, and with a touch so light it felt like a soft summer's breeze, he ran a fingertip gently along the sensitive skin behind my ear.
