The room buzzed with the soft sound of rain outside. The air felt warm and thick with his scent, clean skin, soap, and a hint of whiskey. His sweatshirt enveloped me, feeling soft against my wet skin, with the sleeves draping over my hands.
"Tell me something about you, Sylus," I whispered, playing with the strings of his sweatshirt that still smelled faintly like him. He looked at me from his spot on the couch, one arm resting behind me. "Something like what?"
"Something real. Not the cold, untouchable Sylus everyone sees." He chuckled, low and rough, sending a shiver down my spine. "That might be too dangerous, sweetheart."
I rolled my eyes, trying not to smile. "What's your favorite color?" He tilted his head, pretending to think. "Black. And red."
"I knew it." "How?" I turned toward him and met his gaze. "You're always wearing black. Your apartment's dark. Your car's dark. You practically breathe in grayscale."
A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "Quite an observer, aren't you?" "Occupational hazard," I said softly, shrugging. "Fine. Favorite food?" He leaned in, close enough for me to feel the warmth of his breath. "You."
My head snapped toward him. "What-" He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "I don't have a favorite food."
I tried to laugh it off, but my heart was racing. The way he said it, the look in his eyes it didn't seem like a joke. It felt like a confession. He leaned back slightly, still looking at me. "Your turn."
"What about me?" "Favorite sound." I thought for a moment. "Rain," I said. "When it hits the glass. It feels like everything's quiet, but alive."
He hummed, his eyes softening as he looked at me. "Fitting." " Why?" "Because you remind me of it," he said, his voice lower now. "Soft… but impossible to ignore. "Maybe. Humor me."
"What kind of questions do you have in mind?" I held back a grin. "The dangerous kind." He chuckled. "Go ahead then." "Okay… what's your biggest turn-off?"
"Fake smiles," he replied instantly. "People who act like they don't feel."
"Hmm." I nodded slowly. "What about your turn-on?"
His gaze dropped to my mouth and then back to my eyes. "Honesty." My heart raced. "That's… vague." "It's the truth." His voice lowered. "When someone stops pretending. When they just let me see them." I cleared my throat, trying to lighten the mood. "What's your favorite type of girl?" "Trouble," he answered.
I laughed. "Of course." He leaned in just enough for his knee to brush against mine. "Your turn."
"My turn for what?" "Same questions. Fair's fair." I rolled my eyes. "Turn off? Arrogance."
"And turn-on?" he asked, almost in a whisper. I paused. "Eyes that look like they know too much."
"Dangerous answer," he murmured.
The room fell silent. Only our breathing and the soft sound of rain outside filled the space. He was lying beside me, one arm behind his head, eyes half-closed as the city lights filtered through the half-drawn curtains.
"What about you, Ella?" he suddenly asked, his voice low. "Ever dated anyone?" I turned my head toward him, then back to the faint reflection of the moon on the window. "No," I murmured. "Too busy. Too… alone, maybe."
There was a pause, soft but heavy. "How about you?" I asked quietly. "Did you ever date someone?" His lips curved into something unreadable. "Not dated," he said after a moment, "but I had a fiancée."
My breath hitched, and my eyes darted toward him. "A fiancée?" he was engaged? Did I lose my chance already? Thoughts hovered in my mind. He turned his head, and our gazes met. His tone softened. "I'm not engaged, calm down." A faint, humorless smirk crossed his lips.
I exhaled and looked away. "Then… what happened?" For a second, the silence stretched on too long, too raw. Then he said it so simply that it almost didn't seem real. "She died."
My chest tightened. "I didn't know, I'm sor-" "It's alright," he interrupted softly, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. "It was a car crash."
The room fell silent again. We could only hear the rain against the glass. I turned slightly, watching the faint flicker of emotion pass through his face, grief buried deep under control. Something inside me ached, not just for him but for the part of him that still seemed not to have forgiven himself.
I don't know what got into me. Maybe it was how his voice cracked just a little, or the way his jaw tightened as if he was holding something back. My hand moved on its own, fingertips grazing his. He didn't flinch. He just went still.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "Not for asking. For whatever it did to you."
He turned his head, eyes finding mine in the dim light. There was no smirk, no teasing grin this time, just a quiet storm behind his gaze. I held his gaze, holding his face in my hand, looking at those dark orbs....intoxicating his face felt soft, his lip, a slight gradient of pink hue.
"You don't have to be," he said, his voice low and rough. "Some people just don't get to stay, no matter how much you beg them to." My throat tightened. "She must've been lucky," I said before I could stop myself. "To be loved by you."
Something flickered in his eyes;s, realization dawned on me, but his gaze was something raw and unguarded. He shifted closer, slowly enough that I could feel his warm breath on my cheek.
"Lucky?" he murmured. "Maybe. But I think I'm the unlucky one, sweetheart." My pulse raced. The air between us felt too thin, too fragile. He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped. My heart was beating so fast that a soft gulp went down my throat.
I broke the moment by lying back down, listening to the soft music humming in the phone," Eyes don't lie" by Isabel Rose. Slowly, my eyelid felt heavy, music drowning me into sleep, casting a magical touch on that quiet moment .
SYLUS POV~
She had fallen asleep with her cheek resting on my arm. A faint smile touched her lips. The room was quiet except for the faint music and her soft, steady breaths. Moonlight brushed over her face, fragile and almost unreal it felt like she had been painted by something divine, left within reach of a monster like me.
I should have looked away, but I didn't. My gaze lingered, tracing the slope of her nose, the flutter of her lashes, and how my sweatshirt swallowed her whole. Every inch of her was peace while I was the storm pretending to be still.
I smirked across my lips. Of course, it was a lie the story I told her. The fiancée who died was my truth twisted into mercy. But the truth was far from that.
I killed her, yes, with my own two hands, choking her to death, I ended something long before it could end me. Her betrayal, she was an assassin planted in disguise to kill me, but I killed her with my bare hands and made it look like she died in a car crash.
Now, watching Ella sleep, I almost believed that lie myself. The lie that brought her closer and made her trust me. If bending the truth with lie was the only way to keep her near, I would do it again and again.
She shifted, her fingers brushing my wrist unconsciously. It was so gentle it hurt. My pulse quickened, something raw and possessive clawing at my restraint. Slowly, I reached out, letting my fingers trail through her damp curls and wrapping a strand around my finger.
I lifted it to my lips.
"So close, yet so far, Ella."
Her scent lingered on me, soft, maddening, intoxicating. I felt the kind of ache that could ruin a man, but maybe I was already ruined. Perhaps that's why she looked so perfect lying there, untouched by the chaos that slept beside her.
Her pulse fluttered beneath my fingertips, soft and steady, a rhythm that felt too intimate. I traced the line of her wrist, the fragile veins hidden beneath skin that seemed far too delicate for her world.
For a moment, I just watched it. It was proof that she was there. She trusted me enough to fall asleep beside me.
My thumb brushed her pulse again, slower this time. My breath caught at the warmth of her skin. I didn't plan to, but I leaned down anyway, closing the last inch of distance and pressing my lips against that pulse point.
A whisper of a kiss. Barely there. But it felt like sin.
She stirred slightly, her hand curling closer, almost seeking me in her sleep. My lips lingered a moment too long. My self-control slipped away thread by thread. Her scent filled my lungs, faint vanilla mixed with my shampoo, and something uniquely hers.
I pulled back just enough to breathe against her skin. "You have no idea what you're doing to me, do you?" I murmured, my voice low enough that even the night wouldn't dare echo it.
I brushed my knuckles over her cheek, tracing the faint warmth there. So innocent. So unaware of these demons I had restrained lying inches away, memorizing her heartbeat like a prayer he'd never deserve.
And yet, as I watched her sleep, something inside me quieted. That rare, aching calm only she could bring.
"Soon," I whispered, a ghost of a smile tugging at my lips. "Soon you'll see, Ella. You were always meant to be right here."