Saving Me (A SHATTER ME FANFIC)

W O O D E N

THE FIRST WORD THAT COMES TO my mind after entering Warner's master bedroom is lush.

My eyes roam across the huge interior of the room. A sweet, smoky scent hangs in the air. The dull lights sprinkle touches of a haunting glow, shimmering the room with an undercurrent of dark magic. The kind you want to touch and run away from at the same time. It feels electric and alluring. The room is a reflection of Warner's own personality. Dark and dominating. A King-sized four poster bed is lined against one of the walls, draped over with a silver-grey duvet.

On the east wall, on one of the plush, soft sofas he sits with a stony expression etched across his face whilst his eyes brew deadly storms. I faintly feel the sharp tanginess of anger slap across my skin like a knife

I gulp.

The anger is radiating from him in waves. His mood alone is alarming. Not in his usual attire, he wears a white shirt unbuttoned from his collar down to the middle of his chest, his grey slacks hang low on his hips, revealing nothing as the shirt is long enough to cover his front. His pale hair is a bit disheveled and his eyes blaze as he glares at me.

Gomez still has a grip on my upper arm. He doesn't need to do anything though, I am frozen to my core. My anger and passion dissipated as soon as I had spotted Warner's cool glare. Gomez lets go of my arm to stand in a respectful soldier stance but I instantly grip his forearm, fearing he'd leave me with my death. I didn't want to be left alone with Warner. Especially since he looked as if he was gonna cut me into pieces.

With a flick of his wrist, Warner dismisses him.

"Leave us."

I grip at my possible savior's arm even more tightly, giving him a don't-you-fücking-think-about-it look. Gomez throws me an almost sympathetic glance before breaking my grip on his arm and leaving the room. I watch, dumbstruck, as the door slams shut. Leaving me to fend for myself.

Leaving me on my own. Defenseless. Scared.

I keep staring at the door so I don't have to meet his eyes. I gather my scattered thoughts and try to tug onto my deteriorating sanity.

I shouldn't be nervous. It's a weakness. Besides he can't possibly hurt me, can he?

I sneak a look at his face.

I'm dead.

I plunder my mind to track something useful to do, some sort of sane reaction that won't end with me getting my brain blown out of my head. Turning on my feet, I swirl around to look at him, all the while plastering a huge fake smile on my face as if I was visiting a very dear old friend and not my possible killer.

His expression doesn't flicker one bit.

"Good evening, Colonel." I chirp cheerfully.

He doesn't say anything, just slowly stands up from the chair. The movement alone is enough for my whole skin to breakout in goosebumps. He takes a very dangerous step towards me. Internally panicking, I immediately move towards the bed, avoiding him.

"Oh wow! You have a very nice ... bed." My voice is a few octaves higher than normal. "Even mine isn't as ... grand. Like if you'd given me a chance, I'd totally have called dibs on this room, it's really spectacular..."

I make an attempt to touch the bed and then turn around to move towards the chair, neatly dodging him again as he tries to make a grab at me. My heart is racing like a galloping horse. The fact that I'm sleep deprived and hungry doesn't help either, I'm running on pure adrenaline.