Prologue

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He stared at her with intensity, the storm brewing in his wintry eyes sweeping her insides and leaving it in a disarray

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He stared at her with intensity, the storm brewing in his wintry eyes sweeping her insides and leaving it in a disarray. His face was impassive and cold, its sharp contours and exquisite features rendering a smart man speechless. To describe his beauty with mere words was not enough. He was simply, devastatingly beautiful, almost as if a mad woman conjured him from the deepest bowels of her depraved mind—in the hopes he would save her from himself.

She tried to appear unaffected as she stood in front of him, tension holding her body rigid. A blank mask covered her face in such perfect style, it nearly rendered his own apathy a fake imitation. The warm breeze from the open windows behind her back ruffled her silver hair, looking much like silky spider webs dancing in the air; but she did not move to fix it, even as it whipped across her face.

Her gray stare met his wintry ones, unable to look away.

Afraid to look away.

"Come here," he said finally, his baritone voice low and pleasing to the ears. There was a fond note lilting his words, a stark contrast to his large and dominant frame, and his stoic countenance. "Naomi, you'll catch a cold if you stand there too long."

Naomi blinked back the tears gathering at the corner of her eyes, her chest heavy with an influx of emotions threatening to swallow her whole. Hopelessness, despair, anger, and bittersweet longing tore through her chest like a hurricane hellbent on destroying everything in its path.

Why did he have to be like this? It would be easier to leave him if he wasn't so good to her. If he could be less gentle, more unfeeling, and not himself, maybe she wouldn't feel like dying at this very second.

She inhaled a deep breath and attempted to paste a smile across her face. A flicker of worry crossed his eyes, before it sank behind the still water designing his mask. She didn't need to ask to know he'd seen through her attempts, fully aware he could read and understand her well, more than she could to herself.

It was as if she was a book written with the thought of him in the author's mind; a love poem written in dedication to him. She didn't often entertain such fanciful thoughts, but she couldn't help ruminate that she was made for him, and he for her, as impossible as it was.

It wasn't the first time the thought crossed her mind.

It felt like betrayal.

It felt like salvation.

She should've ran the first moment the thought entered her mind.

"Noah..." Her voice quivered, his name breaking at the tip of her tongue.

The ache in her chest felt so real, it might as well be a stab wound. She was almost surprised she wasn't drowning in her own blood, that no red stain marred the pearly sheen of her skin.

"I... I can't stay here anymore," she forced herself to finish.

His eyebrows knitted, the storm in his eyes stalling in his dazed state of confusion.

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