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You know that color a tropical forest has when it’s raining heavily? That’s the color of his eyes. Dark green, almost black.
his smirk widens, as if this is a circus and I’m his favorite act.
His thumb rubs my jaw like a lover’s caress when in fact it’s a Grim Reaper’s kiss.
Don’t talk. When I speak, you listen. When I order, you obey.
Who knew behind such a beautiful face lurked a nightmare?
“If you start a threat, finish it.”
I stare at the afternoon sun in the middle of the sky and lift my hand as if I can reach it. Maybe if I can, I’ll box it up and use it whenever that gloomy cloud takes control of my head.
He’s like a magnet and I’m helpless steel. He’s the fire and I’m the moth waiting to be burned.
“You’re playing with fire, Reina,” he says lowly, almost apologetically. “Then I’ll just burn.”
