Morphine (Complete)

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IS IT SPELT FORTY OR FOURTY-- AM I GOING INSANE FOURTY SEEMS RIGHT??? But autocorrect disagrees???

Chapter Forty-Two

Mykel had gone mad. There was a killer on the loose in the very building he was set foot in--but he could not, for the life of him, care. Not with the walls trembling and the shiny chandeliers above chiming as pieces of jewels and minerals collapsed against each other. Not with his siblings' frantic shouts ringing through his ears.

Get to the safe room.

If he was being truthful with himself, Mykel did not care if he went to the saferoom when the building caved in on itself or not, nor did he care if he was in the saferoom when Garcia finally decided to show their gluttonous face. He was too far from the exit to make it out in time, especially with an armed murderer on the prowl-- and for fuck's sake--

"Where the hell are you, Rannia?" Mykel grit out angrily under his breath, tearing through another group of panicking people and snapping his neck back and forth, trying to find her in the crowds. What he'd give to see that face again. What he'd do to have her in his arms. It was okay, to die here, if at least she was with him.

She said she'd had a surprise for him, and what kind of sick surprise was it? To make him scared for her wellbeing? If that was the case, it was working. He hated how his heart was opening and bleeding with feeling--but God what he would give to feel that pain again.

He was sure he'd torn through at least ten pairs of bodies when the ground shook harder than before as another blast--a closer one, rocketed through the walls and sent bits of ceiling flying in cloudy spits of dust. He tasted the plaster before he smelt it. Falling against the nearby pillar, his hand made contact with the smooth stone and he steadied himself. His forehead was lined with a thin layer of sweat. Baby, just wait, I'll find you. He wiped it off with the back of his suit sleeve, throwing a layer of slicked black hair back so it wasn't in his face. Spitting to the side, he continued. Down the hall, he spotted the women's restroom. Something pulled him in his gut towards it; his legs, they moved on their own accord; his heart, it followed too.

More screams erupted from behind him as people ran in disorganized circles to try and get out. Another bomb went off. He reached the end of the hall and skidded to a stop, using his momentum to slam the door open. Behind it, hand extended, was a pretty woman in a pretty dress. His breathing paused as he saw her, relief roaring through his chest at the sight of those wide doe eyes.

"Rannia," he managed breathlessly, not giving her a chance to respond as he grabbed her and pressed her roughly against the wall, one hand on her waist and the other against the wall beside her head. She stared up at him, blinking once, processing his disastrous state with those keen, calculating eyes.

"Why'd you come to get me, you should be getting out!" She exclaimed, trying to push his body off of her. He returned by pressing his front flush against hers, grunting out contentedly as her body morphed against his, just as he remembered it. Such a warm feeling in a cold, desperate world.

"And why the fuck are you in here, huh? I was fucking looking for you," Mykel replied through gritted teeth, face taught with anger. But the way his head dipped into her neck said otherwise; the way he breathed in her scent causing his shoulders loosen and his lips meet her warm skin-- it was anything but anger.

"You know, it's wrong to be so beautiful," He stated in a low voice, pulling back and lifting a hand to lightly trace down her cheek. The faintest of smiles lined his lips. Rannia's chest tightened at the sight of the kneeling lion. She had to keep from bursting into tears right then and there. It's wrong, what I'm doing, isn't it? It's so very wrong. And if it is wrong to be beautiful to you...