AKILA'S POV

The sun rose, awakening the hidden and chasing the underworld, the darkness, the Demons trapped in one place til their time comes once again in a matter of hours, in a matter of balance between day and night, between us and the other side of the planet.

I push the thin covers off my body and sit up. I will always truly wish to only awake in the dark, flicker my eyes open and blink to find the stars glowing within their moon as the sky darkens instead of its blue, surrounded by white clouds, protecting their source of light, heat and life.

I would rather live among the dead, among the worst, down hill, down Hell.

Hell. No matter how bright it gets, how sunshine breaks through windows and projects vitamin d, I would still choose a lonely moon, an empty street, an abandoned house to hunt because I believe it's reality, I believe every night must fall, to reveal the days' true colors, veiled and masked flaws and truth that we forget, we release its pressure just for the sake of the moments of letting go for an hour or two to breath, to calm yet I never followed that rule.

Have I ever followed any rule?

I push myself off the bed, securing the deep thoughts after my shower. I didn't need a clock to tell me what time it was, it's almost ten.

You may wonder how I knew, how I discovered and it's simply the years. When I was young, I wanted to waste time, I needed to waste time, I needed a distraction so I would take one glance at the time and damn myself if I even think of another glance. I would start counting, second by second until I matched its paste and here I am, able to tell time without any effort.

It's much easier now, at first I had to focus, not forgetting each tick with the universe but now, I don't need to order, to remember, it all happens on its own.

It's a voice, a sound, counting in the back of my head as I live and do whatever my hands are busy with, once I wonder what time it is, the voice answers as quick as the glance, as quick as the eye would blink and shift across the room for the same answer.

A gift we may call it but I think it's pretty normal, considering the many effects from insomnia, compared to the other dozen skills I've blessed myself with.

I taught myself so many things, I learned to control my body, my mind and my hormones of sleep and energy.

It sounds surreal which makes me believe harder, deeper. If anyone is capable, if anyone has the power, the passion, the will to be, it's me.

So I use that same determination and hop into the shower. Throwing my clothes off my body, I step in and time the cold water all the way up, allowing it to strike my skin with reality, with the coldness of touch, higher and icer than any waterfall I could stand under.

Sometimes I like to think blood doesn't run through my veins and maybe that's why I crave it so much, to ruin it, to watch it spill and splatter over a surface and admire it's dark mighty color. It's beautiful.

This is my morning, bloody thoughts, cursed touch, wicked smile, sinful desires and doing that never stop. Never. Such a powerful word.

And it attracts me, it pulls me in asking for my attention and I give in, I give in freely, I give because it's a bargain, they offer and I take, I give and they satisfy as told.

Anything heartless, burned or lifeless marks me, represents me in some ways, other I vibrate with them or they reach to me, to wrap around my neck, hugging my curves like white gold, painful, rich, pleasant, astonishing and evil.

They consume me, they travel beneath my plans, along my cold blood, my cold heart. They're ready on each step for action, for having a chance of relief, of freedom because while humans struggle to escape the nightmares, I own mine, I own my demons and secrets.

My mind washes away as water connects with my skill, fading away each letter with each drop of water.

I finish my shower and dry myself with a towel. I walk out of the bathroom naked, no longer in need of the wet towel. I open a drawer and pick out a dark gray turtleneck for the bottom and slid on top of it a white dress shirt, leaving the first two or three buttons undone. I drag another drawer and pair my white and gray with beige pants.

I walk to Alessandro's side and steal one of his plain black suit jackets. The sleeves are hanging from my arms as the back reaches down to the middle of my thighs but I like the look of it. Alessandro is a huge man.

I also stole one of his belts, sharing is caring, even if he didn't exactly offer to share but I'm certain he wouldn't mind.

I make sure to put my socks and shoes on, not his and grasp my bag before advancing to his bed. This room has two beds, I lay on the one against the left side against the wall while he sleeps on the right side.

I press my lips on his forehead, stealing my breath so I don't wake him up. I leave more kisses and stare at him for a minute. He looks so peaceful, his musicales are replaced and careless, at sanity and ease, something he hardly and rarely gets.

I feel a wave of sadness but me at once but I dodge the emotions, there's no time for feeling bad, kick my shoes off and crawl next to him. I need to start my investigation.

I gently close the door and check the hallways for any human contact that I won't bear this early in the morning.

I stand in front of the elevator and wait for the doors to open. I step in and turn around, watching a random f five eight tall guy running towards me, in hope to catch the ride before the doors close.

A grin escaped and made it to my face, smirking heartlessly at him as I pressed the button for the doors to shut. 

I hear his hands slam on the metal as the elevator takes me down while my grin remains where it is.

I head straight to the reception and inform them of sleepy Alessandro's breakfast. I recite his favorite choice of food for a first meal despite the fact we both hate early morning meals but it's important and I don't want him to starve.

I know I'm being dramatic, Alessandro oils drive a week or more on water and nothing more but that doesn't mean I will let him do that to himself.

It's not that he willingly or intentionally starves himself but some days work gets harder, in the way, pouring more pressed and force which lead him to trail off track, off food, however once his memory and logic are brought back his stomach screams and yells at him for the audacity and torture.

I chuckle silently, recalling his words I memorized and replay in my head throughout dawn and twilight.

I love it when his voice appears, crashes through my endless thoughts and shines the brightest, the clearest, drawing me away from the serious world, from gravity and rage.

The tone, the harmony of his voice send my nerves and bones into stillness, into confusion at the sudden change, the change he caused.

He scares the anger away, he drains the frailty and motions the agony far, far where he will follow, he will stand in front of and take instead of me.

I shake my head and assure the lady for the last time his coffee would be black with no sugar and I leave the staff to do their work while I do mine.

This mission first started back when she landed here. I've known ever since where she lived at the end of western Romanian but her decisions were made and she ended up here in Constanța.

The her we're on, I've been tracing down for a year now is an old member of the court, the court and lands of The Romanian Mafia.

She decided against them so they set her free unlike their behavior and usual which I discovered later she was bound to them by royal bloor and it explained why she was and still is left to roam the country.

And I want her.

I want her under my hands, my watch, my demands because they owe me, they owe me a bunch and I own the worst, their filthy secrets and sealed mistakes belong to me, in every breath I take and every step I walk.

Just like the rest of the world. I'm wanted dead, must be killed at first sight because of my sweet knowledge, my grand power that stings and never heals.

It's always the same intention, the same desperation to wipe me off earth as a bad memory, a memory they don't want to exist after I get sent to hell. So brutal of them.

The little princess will soon be mine, we'll have to fight for her though, she's feisty. Too bad I don't bother in petite females trying to sway their way and okay with fire when they're reckless, an embarrassment in a field of bullets and death, they claim to win the game but only freeze in the middle of it, not moving backwards nor forwards as a broken record until they become baite, a prey for the monstrous creatures, for the dangerous beast to aide on, for me to feed on.

My first investigation was not the university nor the library, I had to start with the underground. Keeping her precious identity hidden, she had to protect her face and summon the dark, similar to mine but hers more of a joke.

The little fox didn't hold much power yet surely tried. It's cute I guess. She took on boxing for a career and a way of making money since they've completely cut her off any rugs and treasures left behind for her.

Our target shifts into sunlight more often? Much more frequent for a person who drowns in the dark, but I get it, an act to seem free, a cover of who she actually is under the mask, horrible, horrible mask, too transparent, cracked open just enough for me to snatch a look and use it in my advance.

I push the glass door as the sign says, followed by a bell ringing at my entrance, alerting the café of another customer. Taking a seat by the see through window, footsteps near and I immediately dismiss the waiter not yet ready to order.

He must have got offended by not addressing him or looking him in the eyes, it's a sensation kept into the depth or angered gaze I can feel a mile away.

I sharpen a deep breath and gradually focus my attention on him. Dark hair, blue—green eyes, pale skin and vulnerable, a waste of my damn time.

The boy finally works his legs and leaves me alone with a hint of tension chasing after him. Idiot.

My eyes wander around the place, a basic white theme with a light touch of skin decor which I found hideous.

A couple minutes back and the waiter was back. I didn't acknowledge his presence once again but this time, for a whole other reason, a vicious one.

There she stood, across the street, ice cutting through distance, white strands on top of her head, standing out unlike the other brunettes around the area.

She wore a long black leathered coat, swathed her body, concealing her figure and delicate parts. With one move, she changes direction and disappears out of my sight. It's time.

I rush out of the café, I leave all my things behind and run down the roads, breathing heavily to pull on the act perfectly.

One attentive look and I spot her from afar. My play begins, managing a worried face as I shove through people as if I've just been told someone I care for died, as if I've just been told my dog died, as if I would find a cure at the end of the road where she stopped and took cover down a narrow alley.

I notice a stranger and a grin breaks through my act. I jump to conclusions and wait for her to catch the random guy she suspected as a spy.

Gripping the guy's shirt, she slams his short body against the wall white he recovers from the shock. She exposes his secrets, dreams and sins, finding none to harm her and slowly releases her hold on the young man.

If I called her fragile earlier and an idiot, I would add much more vocabulary and expression after what I've just witnessed. I didn't think it was that bad.

I shrug it off, telling myself to never give humans credits and always underestimate them, regardless of their connection to The Mafia.

That rule does not obligate upon Alessandro, if anything, if anyone, he's the most alarmed and most murderous man I've set my eyes on.

His lines double, triple, smoothly adapting to the change of plans, of the expected and unexpected. He's always ready for everything, anything. He charges with no doubt, with no hesitation, wearing his skills and pride chin high.

One quality I've grown to enjoy sitting down and studying. I love watching him fight, sending a punch after another, terrifying his victims. It's cruel, irresistible to look away, away from his muscles flexing as he adjusts the weapon in contact with his control and say.

Others will find it frightening and brutal but I only feel my attraction towards him grow wilder, iniquitous and very naughty.

My cheeks heat and I find it harder to breathe with a brick wall against my lungs. I bite the inside of my mouth for distraction, tagging for the last time where her last step landed before leaving.

Hours promised and flew to the last, leading me here, along the woods, the greens and brown or nature I couldn't decide whether I liked or didn't care for.

The beach is near, I could hear the waves crashing into the sand, laughter or families and friends, drawing me to wonder what that must be like.

A day off, a rest, a brief beat with no pain, with no stress nor effort made. They tend to say it's an addictive feeling, the one in need of more, of holding onto but life is too harsh and strict for such a fantasy wish even shooting stars wouldn't attend, an impossible fate unless of course you want to struggle financially.

Money. Money rules all. Money above all.

Small or big, kind or evil, it ends on top, finishing depts and war between friends and strangers. It solves a lot of problems, complications, even love. Some claim the smell brings them lust and hope. They claim it's better than sex and love which I used to agree on.

Money has never been an issue throughout my eleven years of escape. I always forced myself to find a way, to never let misery and despair hunt me down, betraying myself for any source no matter the consequences, any make up for money. Being wealthy and able to caress your gold, your diamonds and billions of euros sure is pleasing, astonishing and seductive but when I tasted his lips, when I felt his tongue roll down my skin with his wet raw kisses, I crumbled into his touch, his warmth, his love.

I wanted him, more than anything. I thought, I dreamed and craved more uncontrollably, with no shame because in the end, he's worth it, he's worth it all.

The risk. The gal. The battle. The care. Everything. I can't imagine, I can't put in an image someone in his place, someone this beautiful, in ways I didn't know were real, possible, alive and lingered around his ground, submissing badly.

Our love is nowhere close to humans' ideal idea of adoration and intimacy. We share a bond, one that travels and flatters the brightest, one that is made of steel and blood, one that continues, last in life and death.

It's an unescating bond, it's also a sacrifice. A sacrifice oathed, vowed, swore and bound til the end of the world, til the end of humanity, the end of our time here, in green land under stars, catching fire, taunted by Hell where we belong.

That's the enchantress, the goddess after our love. Through our ferocious hearts and acts, the sins attach and welcome our new life, our descend home we've been far away from into the mortal world.

I know it sounds scary, fearful and ghastly admiring such insight, accepting the flames and their commands to our ill, crime, immorality.

But when it comes to me, it's confronting. It sounds like the right place, the right destiny to settle after years and years to become.

Heaven is too good, too innocent and holy for our kind. We won't bare, we won't survive the atmosphere, the air surrounding us. We're used to the trouble, the wounded flesh and spilled blood.

I like to imagine a king and queen, ruling the seven stages of Hell. A kingdom that only two are wept by, two evil, two horrid, two full, two devils.

I would be in a long cunning gown, falling right above my breast and showing my collarbones his highness loves to perceive with his lips. Deep red. The damned color of capacity and strength we seek from blaze. My hair would be combed back, a blakxc dimmed  crown on top of my head, matching his majesty's but with slight differences. My neck would be covered in rubies, tracing down to my six inches heels.

He would be wearing wolf fur, silk, leather and velvet. A shit made with our enemies' bones, defying his wide shoulders and lean back.

Our kingdom would be at dawn, no rise and fall of the sun into our world, ordered by the universe and flak.

There would be dark mysterious skies at all times, seven moons shimmering along the dotted stars. Thunderstorms would erupt instead of earthquakes and volcanoes. There would only be fire and eternity through our gates.

We would dance with shadows, sinners, witches and demons staring in awe as their High Queen and King share a moment, a moment that will last for a while, for the end and beginning of time, for forever.

[V]

I make my way out of the cold breeze, awakening the little hair on my covered neck. The smell of salt water dominating my inhale, the trees marvelous and huge enough to block the sight of the greater black sea.

I will mark this place, I must fulfill my thirst.

My imprint curved on a dark gray rock. I part it one last time and walk away, abandoning this place for once and only.

The walk on the way back is quiet, the sun has almost set by the second I entered the reception. I expected Alessandro to be waiting for me in our suite the whole day with no clue where I might have gone.

It's the bad part of the story, no matter how much I trust him with my drop of blood, I still keep more to myself, much more for normal.

He's not the problem nor is there one to begin with. I simply spent further than a decade, living and modified by the same technique, methods I've gotten happy and gracious with that I no longer attempt change.

I know he understands my ways, how I cope and plan yet I truly hope he remains that way which I'm aware is selfish, selfish for not share all of my thoughts and next moves with him but it's not as easy as it seems for someone like me, for someone who spent half their life locked up, beaten to death and the other half all alone on a journey I didn't bother to bring someone along so I'll take selfish, suits me pretty well.

I'm back in front of the elevator. This time when the doors open, there's someone inside, situated at the end and standing still for the eyes to seize. He doesn't budge stepping out, the transportation ending and reaching the last floor.

I set my foot in and he lifts his gaze, netting mine in the same beat.

Ice blue. Cold as winter. Snow.

My floor is already pressed so I give no sign of curiosity as we watch the doors close ahead of us, as realization hit me, the trap, the mistake shifting into a human statue, the one a few inches away from me.

Gravity shakes the ground while we extend into the building, neither of us trying a trick, a test.

One more and they will be distinct, dropping me where it had known before I came, where he had known.

My body fights an unbearable amount of anger, of things I want to reach and do, things I for once didn't know their origin.

But I knew one thing. One thing I gave for no cost, no bargain, no question out of him.

Maybe I've heard his thoughts, maybe I've learned his body language and listened closely, closely to my voice and tongue blur out, "Akila"

The doors are shot open, I don't blink and carry into the silence of the hallways until I'm one breath away from Alessandro.

He stands up at my entrance and rushed to greet me, shoving me with kisses and hugs.

I felt numb, muttened to his dangerous lips I fantasized day by night which confirmed something is up, something big.

My back is pushed on the mattress, a weight falling on top of me. I'm distracted, I'm focused and stunned in my place. I count his stare but only recall his.

My breath hitch when Alessandro's head buried in my now revealed neck, sucking on me while his body hovered over mine.

I take him in and run my fingers through his soft brown hair with a nerve, an unsettling nerve crawling up my skin.

Alessandro is here, he's here to erase and vanquish those nerves. I miss another exhale and my heart stops for less than a second, replaced with his heat, needs on top of me but I felt it, I knew it.

I don't allow myself to give in, to pleasure until a sound clicks, more like a thought, a reality.

That was HIM.

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