Page 6 of Noah

In his tight grip, she saw the red flush of rage spread across his face, and his minty breath washed over her face.

She struggled to get oxygen to her brain as her eyes popped out and his nostrils flared wide. Going slack in his hold, her vision greyed, and she felt herself moving.

When he decided to let go of her, she inhaled loudly and deeply.

With one final effort, she pushed away from him, but only because he let her, and she stumbled back onto the bed, breathing in heavy gulps of air.

Trying to relax her breathing, it whistled in noisy big gulps between her teeth.

The back of her head hit the mattress when he surged forward, and he hovered over her. He was tense and his eyes were wild, though he stood still as if he was ready to strike; ready to pounce.

Then something happened. The Number’s blue eyes narrowed on her neck. His chest heaved, nostrils flaring wider. Something like distress entered his gaze.

His eyes flickered; his expression softened.

She let out a shaky breath.

He moved closer, slower. Cautious like she was a wild animal, he gently tilted her head. His grip on her chin forced her head to turn. She went willingly, not wanting to provoke him when his touch was so soft.

He let go suddenly and growled. His fingers poked at the spot where he strangled her. It was tender.

His fingers had left a mark, a reminder of his wrath. There would be deep bruises the size of his fingerprints on her neck for a couple of weeks.

Tension was palpable. Her neck burned so to soothe her throat, she lifted her hand and began massaging the skin. When she realised, he wasn’t stopping her and was interested in what she would do, she swallowed harshly.

Frustrated, the Number frowned. He tilted his head to get a better view of her neck as he dipped his eyes and let his long hair fall around his face.

When he grabbed her hand, he ignored her automatic flinch. Observing her nails with a scowl and tapping her fingers he shook his head. He touched her neck and made a sound of surprise, scowling in confusion.

He leaned forward and brushed his nose against hers. As if she were fragile and made of glass, he mimicked the massage she was doing on her neck.

She closed her eyes, praying that he wouldn’t hurt her again. Though she wasn’t sure to whom she was praying. Now seemed like a suitable time to pray since she couldn’t think of a way to get out of this one.

“My name is Adrienne, and I don’t want to die here,” she whispered forlornly.

“Adrenn.” His voice rumbled close to her ear.

Astonished, she remained silent. Her automatic assumption was that he didn’t understand her.

“Oh my gosh. You can talk? Can you tell me how long you’ve been here? What do they want from you?” she asked quickly, but she could see she had lost him, so her voice trailed off.

“Adrenn,” his mouth mangled her name as he attempted to say it again.

The longer she listened, the more she realised his voice sounded rusty. It made her wonder how long it had been since he spoke to someone and what his vocabulary was like.

“Ad-rie-nne,” she enunciated clearly, his eyes on her throat.

His body shuddered as he breathed deeply into her ear and ran his nose behind it. She stayed still, determined not to stir him as he held those sharp fangs near her.

“Adrene,” he said.

“Ren, just call me Ren,” she replied, trying to make things easier for him.

“Ren,” he purred against her skin.

Her body lit up and her heart pounded like a racehorse.

She shook her head because her pulse was racing absurdly, and she should have been flinching in fear because he terrorised her.

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