Page 51 of Nocturne

“It might surprise us with the beauty underneath all that darkness and depth,”

I’m not sure if I’m talking about the ocean anymore. And I think he has caught onto that. Is that why his eyes are slowly turning darker? Why his somewhat relaxed body is turning rigid?

“Darkness is never beautiful, little siren. It is dangerous and all-consuming. The wise stay away while the foolish try to explore and die under its wrath.”

“To witness something as beautiful and precious, you need to be ready to pay the price.”

The air crackles with electric tension. His eyes darken, matching the storm clouds overhead. A fierce look pins me, and I shiver, feeling the spark of his gaze slide down my spine like lightning.

“Do not go asking for something you cannot handle, little siren,”

That darn nickname is going to be the death of me.

“You’d be surprised to know what people can handle, Mr Devlin,” I breathe.

It has become tough to breathe again. But looking at his eyes, my senses filled with him, suddenly, breathing in oxygen didn’t seem as essential.

His face comes down, halting inches away from mine. Our breaths intermingle, and I can smell his rich cigar and mint-filled breath. I hate tobacco, but for some reason, I cannot hate it now. It is a heady aroma when mixed with his unique scent. It is so heady that when I take a huge inhale, I roll my eyes backwards and try to keep in a groan.

How can a man be so fine?

“Are you going to kiss me?”

God knows where the question came from. But the moment it is out of my mouth, I want to know the answer.

What am I hoping for?

Yes?

“Are you offering?”

My eyes turn to his lips. Towards the scar that pulls their left side down in a permanent frown. I wonder how they would feel. I wonder if he is a good kisser. I wonder if he is as dominant and rough as he looks.

Unknowingly, I bend forward, unable to look away from those lips. Kissing him is all I can think about right now.

“No,”

I startle as he steps closer, engulfing me with his presence. The metal digs into my hips as he looms over me, his expression dark and intense. His nostrils flare as he presses the tip of his nose to mine. A shiver runs through me, and I gasp, parting my lips. His gaze shifts to my mouth, making my tongue instinctively dart out to wet them.

In anticipation and delirious pain, I wait.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Ara. A game you won’t win,” he growls, the rumble echoing on my chest with the proximity of us.

“What if I don’t want to win?” I whisper.

I’m not thinking of anything but his lips on mine. I’m unable to think of anything other than wanting to feel his touch, to be claimed by him.

He remains in that position for a while. In my periphery, I see his hands clutch the railing so hard that his knuckles turn white. I’m clutching the metal hard, too, so that I don’t touch him.

I’m losing the battle slowly. The will to keep away is dwindling slowly. The question ‘why can’t I have this one thing?’keeps popping into my head.

Before I can do anything about it, he takes a step back.

He takes away his warmth, his intoxicating scent and also his presence. Just as quickly, the stench of rotting flesh and charred meat fills my nostrils, and my brain, which was filled with thoughts of him, threatens to spill the images I want to avoid, at least for today. I know I will have better control over them tomorrow.

I don’t want to be left alone. Not with these thoughts.

I don’t think before I stumble forward and grab Devlin’s coat. I gasp when he grips my waist to keep me upright. My grip on the lapels of his coat tightens as I step into his personal space. He doesn’t push me away, and I thank god for that.

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