Be My Erasthai

HIS

Adalia

I was frozen in my spot, motionless, as my heartbeat helplessly fluctuated. My chest began to rise and fall. He was somewhere behind me. I could feel it. But I don't dare look back to discern his exact location or distance.

"What's the big fuss? I'm just trying to chat a little." The playboy said to Donna.

He was clearly oblivious to what was going on, as he just kept talking. Everything he was saying now sounded like nonsensical babble as my attention was no longer on him.

I was more focused on my crazy heart rate that showed no sign of leveling out, and on the sudden still atmosphere that seemed to seize me in its grip.

An arm wrapped around my shoulder, jolting me out of my daze. I looked to my side to see that it was the arm of the Playboy, and I instantly recoiled.

"Okay big boy, you gotta leave now," Addy said with an attitude.

"Why? Your friend here isn't complaining, so why are you?" The playboy smirked, trying to pull me closer.

"Well, you've done it." Donna shook her head. "I tried to warn you, but you'll be lucky if you only get away with a broken arm."

"What?" the guy asked, dumbfounded.

"Get your hands off me, " I snapped, finally coming back to my senses... or maybe not. I still feel a bit disoriented. But as I tried to shrug his hands off my shoulder, he just kept pulling me closer.

Gritting my teeth, I decided to swat his hand off. "I said, get your hands off me—" I began to say when I felt the weight of his arm instantly lift, followed by an agonized scream piercing the air.

"Argh!!" the playboy wailed, slumping over the booth's countertop.

My eyes rounded in shock as I stared at the scene in front of me. Zayn had the man's arm clutched in his grip, his flesh twisting, and his wrist dislocating into an unnatural position.

"No one," he said in a cold, authoritative tone, "no one touches her. She's mine."

Shudders racked my body at the words "mine," and his husky, cold voice only intensified the feeling.

He's here. He's really here.

"Do you understand?" Zayn snarled at the playboy, twisting his arms further till the crisp sound of bones cracking resounded.

The man let out another wail while flailing his arms in pain. "Yes! Yes! I hear you! I'm so — argh!! I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize to me, apologize to her," he snarled again.

"I—I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry ma'am, please forgive me!" He sobbed, the tears streaming down his face.

A devious smirk crept onto Zayn's lips, and his voice grew colder. "Hmm? She hasn't said that you've been forgiven. So I guess you'll have to apologize harder."

Another crack resounded, prompting a broken wail.

I could only stare blankly at the scene before me. The dark evening clouds were casting a shadow around Zayn, eliciting a side of him I'd never seen before. Cold, angry, devoid of any empathy. But I couldn't say that I hated it or that I was scared. Instead, something twisted in me found this...amusing?

"Oh my gosh, Adalia, tell him to stop." Addy shook my shoulders in panic. "That man would seriously lose an arm."

Her shaking snapped me out of my daze. "Oh! I—uh, Zayn, please stop," I pleaded in a whisper, and his body stilled.

A few seconds passed before he let go of the playboy's arm, prompting it to drop with a thud on the counter.

I vaguely registered the playboy stumbling out of the chair with a shaky body. He dragged his limp arm and wobbled away, leaving behind trails of whimpers.