Shadow Of The Nightshade

Day 9: •°Gabriel•°

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Shadow

I stared in silence at his crimson eyes as he drew his blade across my wrists, drops of blood splashing against the bottom of the wine glass he held against the cut. Some spilled to the floor as he twirled the stem between his fingers admiring the color for a Mom before pouring it down his throat, his fingers taped around the cut as he raised my hand above my head.

I averted my eyes to the white floor. He enjoyed his control over me. I knew that.

'Anything to say, Doll?' He grinned, flashing his pearly fangs at me as he did.

'You look younger.' I forced myself to say, my gaze focused on his shoes.

I also knew I feared him, deep down. Why?

'Look at me when you speak.' His voice wasn't demanding, nor was it commanding, but I found my body moving without my permission.

Seeing my struggle, he chuckled and got off the desk he was sitting on, setting his glass on the brunette's hand. He raised my head up, his index finger and thumb grasping my chin.

'Now was that hard?' he asked with a playful smile, his gaze boring into my soul.

He knew how to bring my fear to the surface.

Flinching, I backed away from his table. But his grip didn't let me.

'Please—'

He cut me off, running his hand through my hair. 'I'd never think you would grow it out.'

I closed my eyes, suddenly out of breath.

'You shouldn't have done that darling.' he hissed, my arm falling to my side as he walked away to one of the many doors in his enormous office.

'I'm sorry.' I whispered almost inaudibly, but I know he heard me when his footsteps pause.

He always did like my hair short.

'Then show me how sorry you are.' He spun on his heel, turning around, his white hair glittering in the artificial lighting.

I knew that he could break me but. . .

I walk towards him, my blood trickling down my fingers.

He could also make me trust him.

Forcing my lips into a smile, I held out my bleeding wrist. 'It hurts.'

His own smile grew.

. . . then shatter me from the inside.

'It was your blood that kept me young, Khafi.' he said with endearment, stroking my cheek while accepting my hand.

I let out a shaky breath, playing his game to spare myself from further torture. 'Really? I didn't know.'

'Of course it was,' he grinned, pulling my wrist to his lips. 'You are special.'

I staggered forward, my legs weakening as I feel a sharp piercing pain in my wrist. My knees buckled beneath me but he caught me, holding me to his chest.