𝐌𝐫. 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐧

：𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

"So...how are you enjoying the activities so far?" I asked Nyx who's gaze was focused intently on his daughter running around with the other kids.

He tipped back in his chair, leaning against the oak tree. Its leafy branches grown out from its trunk had lost the smooth suppleness of youth and ascended slowly to ponderous immobility under the thick armor of the ages. I was happy that this old girl had still managed to provide shelter for assorted animals and birds.

"They're definitely something" he responds, his gaze no longer on the field.

I chuckled at that, and his eyes met mine's briefly. "Trust me they went fairly easy on us this year. You should've seen some of the bizarre things they made us to last year"

He hums, his gaze dropping to the now buzzing phone which hung loosely from my grip.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" He probes.

I shook my head, "it's not important", I mumbled feeling its vibration stopping momentarily before returning again.

I knew it was Arlo calling because that's all he's been doing from last night. But I wasn't on speaking terms with him right now. Not until he apologizes for being an asshole to Mel.

He said nothing as I shoved the sleek device into my back pocket.

There was an awkward silence. I couldn't think of anything to say. So I looked away.

Nyx Synn was an intimidating presence.

"Are you scared of me?" Nyx suddenly implored, his gray eyes meeting mine. My heart slammed frantically against my ribcage. I peeked up at him. His eyes were piercing and intense, the stare they give me brimming with threat and interest, folding thick arms over his broad chest, protruding the rippling muscles in his forearms and etching the tattoos down his arms into stark highlights.

But the words become lodged in my throat and silence paralyzes my tongue.

"Do you think I would ever hurt you intentionally?"

"I—I don't know," I whispered.

And I really hope he wouldn't.

Rocking on the balls of my feet I stuffed my hands inside my pockets. "A—Are you a bad guy Mr.Synn" I asked but somehow I knew the answer to that question. Yet I wasn't scared. And that fucking terrified me.

"I'm a bad person trying very hard to be a good person"

His words hung in the air for a moment.

"What's your occupation?" I mumbled not commenting on his previous statement.

"You ask a lot of questions don't you?"

"My mother often says curiosity is my besetting sin"

"Carino" he said, smirking slightly exposing dimples like divots at the corners of his mouth and on his right cheek. My heart quivered. Men like him should come with a warning.