Octavius

Extras

PAPI OCTAVIUS

        "Breathe." My harsh, dark voice whispered, pleading for her to calm down. Breathe Finley. Then instinctively I lowered my voice, almost letting the tiniest bit of warmth appear through. I shouldn't have given any much of a fuck whether she passed out or not but somehow I did. Fuck.

Slowly, I allowed my large hands to slide down her spine, gently stroking her back, rubbing miniature circles like the way one would do to comfort a child who had nightmares in the middle of the night.

The gesture felt strangle, unnatural to me because I hated the touch of others or even physical intimacy but right now, I didn't mind.

Inhaling a sharp breath, I lifted a hand, hesitantly—slowly and then brushed back a strand of dark curl that had fallen across her freckled face. My fingers combing through her tangled deep brown curls, then I looped a curl around my finger before I could stop myself.

        Fuck. Damn it.

        My calloused fingers scrapped against her cheekbone, then caressed the shell of her ear. Finley. I had recognized her from the minute I saw her in the bathroom; Evelyn's little sister. Pretty. Young. Innocent. Damn it. So fuckin' beautiful. And completely unattainable.

God, she was tiny—so small, untainted and pure that I wanted to protect her from everything bad in the world yet capture her innocent with the darkness that encompassed me.

        I felt her fragile body shaking against my firm hold, her face buried into the crook of my neck and she jerked slightly in my arms.

        "Breathe," My voice with a deep timbre cooed into her ear. Then I cursed lowly under my breath for not saying a better word. Breathe. Who was I fuckin' kidding?

        I wasn't experienced with panic attacks, I didn't know shit about comforting people because I never had to and here I was.

"Sh, breathe." My hands rested on her lower back, rubbing her spine through the fabric of her white shirt. I shouldn't have done it, I shouldn't have yet I did. Only a spilt second but it was embedded into my brain.

         Her smell. God, she smelled sweet, like every single filthy thought I ever had. She smelled like mine. And she wasn't. I didn't want her to be.

        I was slammed back into reality as her small hands gripped a fistful of my perfectly ironed shirt, tightening her firm hold on me and I could hear her soft whimpers. She was forcing herself to breathe deeply, steadily in spite of her state of panic.

Her soft murmuring, almost like she was commanding herself to stay calm in my presence.

Fuck, was it my fault? Did I cause her to have a panic attack?

I didn't consider myself a scary man—others did but I was a perfectly reasonable gentlemen. When I wanted to be, at least. The thought of Finley being terrified of me made me frown. A fuckin' frown settled on my lips, a deep ache building deep in my heart. What the fuckin' hell?

        Instantly, I recoiled away from her body, leaving the warmth that had surrounded me, and suddenly developed the urge to hug her once again. Feel her soft body against mine. Jesus fuck, I was doomed.