Bottom Of The Deep Blue Sea

The beast of shadow and scars reveled in the tension that hung thick in the salty sea air, as well as the biting sensation of curiosity and attraction equally fighting for supremacy within him for the small crimson girl. She was quite bold. Standing her ground in the face of his much larger mass, her gaze an unspoken yearning. What did she want from him? What did he want from her? The questions looked in his mind, though rationally had taken a passenger’s seat.

“Mariah,” The brute repeated deliciously, a ghost of a smile dancing across his lips. He held her name in his mouth like the sweetest of honey, testing it for repetitive use. He was going to remember that name for a long while, he was certain. His memory was a strong thing after all, and it was currently mapping out even the most inconsequential detail of the girl before him. He felt primal, possessive, over this frail thing that beckoned him like a siren. They were near water, perhaps she was a Kelpie. One touch and he would be lost forever. Mariah was like some great altar he desired to kneel before and worship… and yet he was a hedonistic man who also wanted the exact opposite — but could her feeble body even dare to adulate him? He grinned at the thought. Shoving down the more depraved ideas his brain was coming up with. No, he desired not to trample her or ravage her, and it was vexing to say the least. A wicked kinship, or a fetishized desire to caress weakness and make it his own.

He shamelessly trailed the delicate line of her throat, working his way up and down as he put a step's worth of space between them, wanting to see if she would reclaim closeness as he spoke with his gaze locked onto her silver ones. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Caedes, He rumbled, pausing thoughtfully before continuing, “My scars. They are beautiful to you. It would be a shame not to touch the things you admire, don’t you think?” A dare. One that had the potential to cross that physical boundary still existing between the two. God he hoped she wouldn’t resist the temptation clear on her face. The syllables of his speech had been spoken lowly, a masculine purr of his deep voice that meant to rattle her further. Caedes did not push her boundaries, well — asides of course from proximity and leering alone. He did not touch her, though he wanted nothing else. He did not strip her down to mere flesh, for he was not raised to treat women as such, but the truth remained that he was just a bewitched man. Her gaze was just as haunting as the aura he found himself relishing in, as though he were a dehydrated man drinking finally from a cup of water. Her thin frame, her resilient eyes, it was all like a knife in his skull — lobotomizing him and leaving nothing but thoughts of this beholden beauty. The fuck  was wrong with him?


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