Octavius

xix

:)

FINLEY

We were parked in front of my driveway, sitting in the back of Octavius' jet black Mercedes and I remained hesitant as ever to enter. I had just spent nearly the whole day with Octavius watching Tangled, fighting with Beast about whether apple juice or orange juice was better and I won. Obviously apple juice— and cuddling with Wolf and Growl. Mostly cuddling with Wolf and Growl.

       I glanced at the golden watch perched upon the dashboard read 11:20 and the thrill of having another half-hour with Octavius made me smile myself to myself.

"S-stay still please," I asked in a gentle voice as I finished braiding his hair into two majestic French braid, the long braid of dark hair falling down in pair of braids to his shoulders. A single curl of the purest black ink fell against his eyes, nearly blinding his gaze and yet I had never laid my eyes upon someone as beautiful as him.

        His midnight dark hair, glinting in the moonlight streaming in through the window drew my attention to his lit golden eyes that regarded me. "A-all done! You look like a...a cutie, don't you think?"

        "It's beautiful, Topolina. Thank you," Octavius said, strong protective arms like manacles wrapped around my waist, effortlessly caging my small frame against him. His piercing amber eyes blazed with a primal desire as they melted in my brown wide-eyed gaze and I nearly shuddered against a simple glance of his eyes.

        Octavius made me feel attractive. The way he gazed at me. The way he always talked to me. I wasn't sure if anyone had ever made me feel as beautiful as he made me feel when he looked at me. Like it was taking almost every muscle in him—everything to keep his mouth away from mine.

Strings of intrusive, negative thoughts weaved into my mind, and all I could think about was Charley. Did he think Charley was more beautiful than me? Does he want her instead? What if he wanted to be in a relationship with her? What-

He pressed the softness of his perfectly plump lips against the curve of my crooked nose, although it was imperfect and less than par, the secret message of tenderness nearly brought tears to my eyes. "Stop overthinking, hm? Che succede nella tua bella testa?" The confident golden tone of his amber eyes glowed liquid like the smooth Scotch whiskey, becoming light-warm and shone in the moonlight. "Talk to me, please."

(What's going on in that pretty head of yours)

"N-nothing, I'm peachy. Nothing... nothing's wrong. How are you?"

"Finley," His deep, gravelly voice spoke and effortlessly silenced me. Octavius directed a sharp look admonishing the lies that pooled out of my lips, and I couldn't help but visibly shrink in his dark gaze; my small fingers absently rolling the rings on his finger. He never calls me Finley. "You don't have to tell me, but I don't appreciate lies, sì?"

I bit down on my bottom lip, shaking my head slightly in response. "N-no."

"Good. Do you know what happens when people lie to me, baby?" His dark, deep gaze scrutinized me, his harsh breath lingering heavily into the humid air. My cheeks flushed beet red, tangled yards of disoriented thoughts washed over me as I thought about his vague words.