Sold To A Beast

One More Bullet

Not all heroes wear capes.

Their faces fell from an excited and happy to a look more fearful and grave. They were scared, and it was my fault.

One of the men grabbed at his chest as his face drained of color.
"He's going to kill us!"

"No - No one needs to worry, nothing will happen. I'll fix this."
Please don't let him kill anyone! I wouldn't be able to handle any deaths on my hands.
I left the kitchen quickly, afraid that if I had waited for Andrew to find me then others may get hurt. That temper of his was a wild one, and it left many people hurt or scared of him.

Today would not be an example.

I began climbing the stairs hoping that I could catch him in one of the two rooms we stayed in, but the sound of his angry footfalls kept me at the bottom and I waited for him to come down."Andrew? I'm here." I hoped that he was able to hear me, a little uncertain because he hadn't tried to talk to me that way before when looking for me.

I could hear him before I saw him, his curses belonging to no other. A small hall table was flung down the stairs and shattered along the steps.

I saw him charging down the steps, cursing each one for slowing him down. When he finally came to view, glancing up at me by chance with a threat on his lips ready to order someone to find me. His nose had wrinkled and he looked like he was ready to kill.

Andrew's eyes transformed between recognition and confusion, the colors and pupils changing as he neared me. The whimper that came from him almost had me running to him - almost.

"Emily?" He bounded the rest of the steps and advanced towards me like a predator, giving me the chance to run when I could so he would hunt. I kept my feet planted, knowing what was best for me. He slowed before he met me and instead of embracing me as I thought or even hoped - he circled.

Is this his way of accusing me of something?

On the second circle he stopped behind me, his hand brushing the back of my arm to see my reaction. I didn't dare to turn around yet and face him. I felt his hands travel to my stomach and pull me into his body, his mouth close to my ear.
"You don't like you're hurt, and you don't smell like another male. You smell like -  flour and butter."

"I was in the kitchen." I stumbled over my sentence miserably, my body forgetting how overwhelming his touch felt. He was so close. It was hard to focus on anything.

"Why didn't you ask me to come down here?"

"You would've said no."

He placed his thumbs on either side of my temples, tilting my head backward so that I could look at him. "You blocked the mind link. How did you know how to do that?"

"I did what?"

"You denied me from speaking to you." His lips were against my hair. "What were you doing in the kitchen?"

"I was helping." I tried to explain the details but failed miserably, knowing he probably didn't really care. "I was afraid I'd cut myself so I was concentrating hard."

"That's probably what caused you to deny me." His hands rubbed my arms and I wondered if it was for my sake or his. "Had you've cut yourself, there's no telling what I would have done. Locked you away in my room for the rest of your short life, probably.

The way he said it made it seem like it was no big deal, but I knew that he was serious - and upset. "I'm sorry you worried."
I grabbed him and praised myself for not making a fool of myself as I trailed my fingers down his arm and to his hand. It was warm.