Page 130 of Eyes Like Angel
I held my breath in.
She gripped my hand atop. “Thank you for saving me, for giving me proper care in the hospital. If only I could pay you back.”
Oh, I did more than taking you to the hospital. If only you knew, sweet angel.
“Don’t bother,” I repeated gently, clasping her hand back. “I wanted you to be safe, my number one priority, here and now.”
And forever.
Forever and ever.
I sensed her holding her air, too as the warmth on her hand blanketed me, fears has set in, domino after domino, my doings and my past killings as a resolve on haunting the narrative, my killing spree from Samantha and her boy toy, to killing Romano and Emily, my family might win if I let myself slip in a wrong footing. I forbade myself on the outcome, despite the clear signs were slapped in front of me, I’m not blind. I knew that my actions determined a chaotic chain link between the family, me, and Eva.
But I snapped out from my spiraling.
And tend my mental state to Eva’s palpable and intangible touch so miraculous it weighs my fears within the abyss.
Within and out.
“Adrian,” she called.
My eyes darted. “Yes, sweet angel?”
“Thank you,” she repeated, “for being here at my side.”
I sat still. Anticipated, I leaned my posture onward, yearning to pour her honey voice in my ears.
Her hand mended my hair locks and trailed up onto the widow’s peak.
“Whenever I see you, you kind of reminded me of a white moth at my sleeping place,” she said. “With your beady-colored eyes and your hair color, you could be a little moth I used to play and talk with in my…room.”
Not knowing if I should I take it as a compliment or not. But I took her words to heart in suppressed glee, flattered.
“Hopefully I’m a cute kind of moth,” I said, bemused, leaning back.
“Their fur on their wings reminded me of your hair locks,” she explained in a sheepish manner. “But you look more human…”
“More human?”
Her cheeks slightly reddened. “More human and less of a nightly creature.”
My lips quirked to a smirk. “Good to know I resemble as a vampire,” I said, half-jokingly.
She stuttered for a moment, playing and lacing with her fingers.
Had my hand flat on my knee, I smiled at her random words she cutely expressed.
“Adrian,” she uttered softer.
My jaw ticked, locked in at her sound, calling for me, begging like a prayer.
Desperate like I clinging onto a life support, I hoisted up, crashing my lips to her, tasting her, devouring her with my hand cupped on her face.
She moaned aloud, but I muffled it with my tongue, the sounds only for me to hear. Nobody else’s but mine.
Mine.
She’s mine.
