myra ; tom riddle

[69]

everyone REPEAT AFTER ME "layla grims sister do not read this chapter!"

Something seemed different about Riddle. Riddle was a boy who would focus intently on something, and not even let the thought of becoming distracted cross his mind once. However, once apparating into my bedroom he seemed to completely forget about his mission of meeting my mother.

He paced around the room picking up every item and picture frame, somehow finding a cruel comment about each of them. He picked up a few photos of me as a child and referred to my 'bad hair days' originating since birth.

With the artificial lighting beaming down on his face as he continued to search my room I was able to get a better look at his features. He hadn't shaved in a few days it seemed, his hair was messy and flying in every direction, and his face seemed much paler than usual. What in merlin's name had gotten into him? He looked like a completely different person entirely.

I crossed my arms looking up at him from the edge of the bed, watching as he scrunched his nose and even scoffed at a few of my family photos. He even went as far as to pick up the small stack of letters I had saved beside my bed; my cheeks went hot realizing most of them were letters he had sent me from the previous years.

His eyes flickered up to lock onto my gaze, a grin spreading across his face as he flipped through his own handwritten letters. Some of the letters dated back to when we were thirteen years old; I wanted to crawl beneath the covers in humiliation.

Letters.

"Why were you writing to Spencer? I did not know you two knew each other," I asked, remembering my brother's sudden shift in behavior. Was Riddle the reason Spencer had been acting so strangely? I would give anything if I could have read the contents of the letters he had sent.

"What other books do you need for the semester?" He asked, standing close in front of me as he flipped through an old textbook I had bought for light reading.

I grabbed the book roughly out of his hands and tossed it a few feet away, "Do you need me to repeat myself? Why have you been writing to my brother so much?"

I only needed to raise my voice a little to have his full attention, apparently. Now, he stared down at me, narrowing his gaze as if surprised I dared to speak to him in that way. Part of me wondered if any of his bitches spoke up to him, let alone disagree with him. I assumed they practically wet themselves every time he spoke to them.

"Are you upset that I wrote to him and not you?" He asked curiously, sitting beside me, his fingers naturally resting on my thighs. I felt my lower stomach and throat tighten, feeling his cold ring grazing the outer part of my thigh. He sat only a few inches away from me on the bed; my lungs felt as if they were being clogged by his aura.

"I didn't even notice," I lied.

"Careful," He warned. His eyes flicked down to my collarbones for a moment and then back up toward my face. I would be lying if I said I had not missed the way he made my body feel. Every muscle and every fiber of my body felt tight around him, eager even.

"You are getting too invested in my life," Riddle continued. His breath fanned across the crook of my neck as he dipped his head down toward me, leaving a sloppy kiss on the crook of my neck. It was as if my body had an electric response to his skin. I felt a tremble jolt through my body as his teeth began to roughly bite onto my neck.

"Are you trying to distract me?" I asked, my eyebrows beginning to scrunch together as his bites continued down to my collarbones. His fingers even began to gently slide from my outer thigh to the inner much more sensitive part of my thigh.