Toxic For Me

Chapter 08: Love You or Hate You?

"See, I'll try to make things right as soon as possible. I made a mistake, I'll repent. Until then- Lavender?" Tristen stared at her motionless body slowly falling into his arms.

"She must've been shocked." Brendon said. "Great." Tristen muttered under his breath. "Get her stuff in my room." He pointed at her bag before lifting her in his arms. "Get the doctor!" Brendon said to one of the men standing in the room. "No need." Tristen turned around, calmly speaking. He stood at the top of the staircase while the maid opened the door to his room.

He swiftly walked inside his dark room, laying Lavender down on his silky red sheets delicately.

"You can leave." He motioned the maid, who shut the door after leaving. He turned on the lamps to lighten up the room. Kneeling down, he lowered himself close to her face to hear her heavy breathing. "You can open your eyes now, love." He slowly whispered, waiting for Lavender's reaction. She sneakily squeezed her open only to find her cover blown.

Tristen was right a few inches away from her lips. "Shit." She mumbled a little audibly, puckering her lips in frustration.

"You're a smart girl, but do understand that there's a reason why I'm asking you to stay." He whispered softly, tracing his finger over the curves of her nose.

The room was amazingly calm and quiet; perfect for someone to attain their peace of mind. It was radiating warmth from every possible corner, including the silky red bedsheets. They were making her sleepy.

The walls were coloured in deep red, the kind to sooth one's eyes; except for the one behind the bed which was black. There was one large window with translucent black curtains, pulled over the frame to block the light.

Yellow lights scattering from the lamps were the only ones to illuminate the room. Lavender could find herself unconsciously relaxing as her body sunk deep into the mattress. She was trapped on the bed with Tristen's face close to hers.

Her hands gripped the silk firmly while her eyes desparately stared into his. "Let me go." She whispered. "I'm not keeping you here for ransom. You're free to walk out of that door anytime you like." He said, caressing her hair.

"Why don't you let me, then?" She creased her brows.

"The only reason I'm stopping you, is for your safety. You need to trust me when I tell you to stay. I've seen things happen in front of my eyes. I know what happens to a person after they are kidnapped; specially girls." He halted.

Lavender was filled with fear the more she listened to him talk. "I know I've hidden my identity from you, but that does not mean I do not care for you." He had never spoken ever so tenderly to anyone in his life.

Yet, here he was.

Tristen must have found something in her books that just behaved like keys to all of his locks. It was like giving water to a thirsty person. Maybe that was why Lavender was so special to him. He had seen her pictures, her interviews, and the videos of her signing events.

But seeing her in person? In real life? He must have felt like being hit by a train; a train of love. The mouth that gave commands of execution had kissed her. The lips that blew the smoke from the revolver were the same ones to touch hers.

But what was Tristen's impression upon Lavender? She had found him mysterious and therefore, she felt attracted towards him like a butterfly is to the most beautiful flower in the field. However, the case here was simply different. It was more like Tristen being that butterfly and Lavender being the most beautiful flower. He could not bring himself to resist her.

Although she felt good in his presence, Lavender had started to hate him little by little. All she knew was that she needed to get away from Tristen. But not with some crazy men on loose, she had desires to live a healthy life. "Are you thinking too much?" He gently put her hair behind her ear. Lavender shook cupid off her head and sat upright as Tristen's gaze followed her. "I-I can't do this." She said. "Do what?" He asked, holding her hand. "This." She looked down at their hands; at the way their fingers were intertwined.