When In His Eyes
WHEN IN HIS EYES
Casimir Everhart spent an agonizing couple of days puzzling over what had occurred in the Government Plaza. His actions, his very memory, was like a thick fog rolling in at dusk. Until the very moment his eyes locked onto hers outside a nondescript sub-basement office.
Olline Tavos.
The gems she called eyes were the first clear thing he could latch on to. Her fine lips were the second, even as they sputtered to, of all things, declare she had a badge . It would have been cute, unbearably so, if he hadn’t been crushing her windpipe. His body still recoiled at the memory of how brutal that first encounter was. Which forced Casimir to consider: why had he regained awareness in the sub-basement in front of office two-hundred and twenty-three?
He had his suspicions as to why, but the mere idea was unthinkable. It would only birth hope and Casimir had learned decades ago that for a man like him, a thing like hope was best smothered in the cradle. That way lay only folly. Casimir had spent too long as madness’s bedmate to so willingly hop between those sheets again.
Casimir would reach for the slight protrusion at the base of his neck, but stopped himself every single time, refusing to believe . . . What? That, Olline, of all people, stumbled upon something long hidden? Yet that little inkling that something had altered was the only thing that made sense, as mad as that was. Which meant only one thing: Casimir needed Olline. Which was a terribly uncomfortable realization made more so by the fact that the delightful woman had completely rebuffed him.
Which was . . . refreshing, if he were being perfectly honest.
For the first time in far, far too long, Casimir could follow a path of his choosing, and he wanted it to stay that way. Which meant his path needed to take him back to Olline Tavos. She had the very thing that could secure his new reality, but a life in Antal had taught him to be wary of people like her. He would need to keep his distance, well, his metaphorical distance, at least. Yet, showing back up at sub-basement thirteen was out of the question, and not because it would make him look like a stalker.
Casimir had other means, of course. Occupying his unique position in Etzel’s menagerie of employees made finding people criminally simple.
He clenched his jaw and gave his head a sharp shake.
No, he wouldn’t rely on Etzel for this. It was far too risky. Casimir knew where Olline was. He would simply find her at work and make some clever excuse that would ensure the pair of them worked together. He was good at those, even if he had bungled his first meeting with her by coming across too strong. Too desperate . Which, admittedly, he kind of was, but that was beside the point.
With a plan in place, he crept to the Government Plaza two days after that disastrous first meeting. Casimir stayed in the gloomy areas where the surveillance drones were intermittent with their sweeps, like he had done for decades. He found a patch of wall to lean against and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Casimir sighed, annoyed that of all the people in Antal, he needed the one that was a workaholic. They were absolute bores to stake out.
Then Casimir saw her scamper from the building long after business hours, and a funny little flutter had his stomach tightening. She was so . . . animated.
Standing in the Government Plaza—dressed like some DJ in a club catering to the barely legal in her bright neon clothing, and not the brilliant magitech engineer he knew she was—Olline fidgeted like she had a delicious little secret. She kicked at the pavement, her stunning emerald eyes flashing. Her face scrunched and made her little nose twitch, the smattering of freckles on her rosy, bronze kissed skin darkened in a way that should not be as adorable as it was. She was obviously searching for something. It was the perfect opportunity for Casimir to step in and make himself useful. Olline wouldn’t even question it, and yet his feet were concrete blocks at the base of his legs, rooting him to the shadows.
He was powerless to move, and for once, it didn’t feel absolutely awful.
Olline was a spark of light in a world that had long since gone dim. All he wanted to do was watch her. How could he not? No one like Olline worked at the Government Plaza. Those peons were either beaten down by the drudgery or erroneously inflated by the facade of their miniscule self-importance. There was a lightness to Olline that Casimir wanted to hold on to and pray it could lift him up. She was a live wire that electrified him, and she had no idea.
That was all on top of the fact that Olline Tavos was resplendent. But surely, she had to know at least that much?
She had to know how her smooth skin begged to be revered. How people would fall into the forest of her eyes and stay happily lost for an eternity. How her earnest little smiles were so infectious they could make a statue grin. How her pink blushes matched her plush lips in a way that demanded they be kissed. How her glossy onyx hair with her moss green streaks encouraged someone to run their fingers through it until nothing else in the world mattered. Everything from her smattering of freckles to her rose neck tattoo begged to be tasted.
She had to know, because if she did, it would not be odd that Casimir noticed these things, too.
Casimir had been so captivated by her mere existence he didn’t notice until it was almost too late that he had been trailing Olline, pulled along like she was the sun and he a moon in her orbit. Olline stopped, shoulders hunching. He had tailed people long enough to know when his presence was about to be detected.
He expertly slipped into the thick shadows just in time, Olline none the wiser.
Growling to himself, Casimir focused on tailing her, not on the seductive sway of her hips. Instead, Casimir fixated on what he would say to her, what excuse he would give for following her down into the bowels of Antal.
The sad fact of the matter was Casimir would have liked meeting Olline in another lifetime. Having an attraction for anyone, especially now, was not part of his plan. It couldn’t be. It would be a death sentence for him. Shutting everything else out about Olline, Casimir followed her, silent and unfeeling as a tombstone. He puzzled over where she was going, and who she could be meeting in the cesspool that was The Pit.
Casimir stayed near the back of the shitty little dive bar, yet his eyes followed Olline no matter how much distance he put between them, or how many bodies swayed into his path. His lips parted slightly, a slow smile building even as she stole his breath completely.
The way she moved her body, the slow dips and turns of her hips, the way her tight pants clung to her round ass, the way her soft stomach rolled and her skin glistened caused an almost painful flutter in Casimir’s chest. It was the kind of pain he wanted to bottle and get drunk off of when he inevitably looked back at tonight and thought:
What if, what if, what if . . .
In that moment, Casimir knew the plan he had meticulously constructed was in danger of crumbling and scattering like sand. He stamped down his want, his desire to hold this woman and let her speak for an eternity as long as she spoke to him. He had to, he had to, he had to . . .
Casimir had been so memorized by her, he failed to notice the repugnant little man approach until it was too late.
The cretin touched Olline as if he had the right to.
Casimir saw red. He moved through the crowd, a stalking shadow that had people cowering back before he even touched them. Casimir had murder on his mind as he watched Olline try to evade the lout, only for the disgusting male to play dumb. With pride, he watched her push him away, but his pride was swallowed by the dark mass that was his fury as the rat lurched after her.
In a breath, Casimir slipped between Olline and this sorry excuse for a man.
Casimir’s fist was a hammer to the man’s fleshy stomach. His knee was frozen concrete as he slammed the man’s nose into it. Then he threw him to the ground like the garbage he was. He left the man writhing on the floor, all too aware of the weight of his mechanized stiletto dagger hidden at his side. Olline was fleeing though, and he couldn’t lose her down here. Not now when The Pit’s patrons were tracking her like a feast that had the audacity to not want to be consumed.
I’ll gut you at a later date and time then, friend.
He darted after her, but made the same mistake as the rat whimpering on the sticky floor. Casimir grabbed for what was not his. The silky-smooth touch of her skin, her scent of fresh cucumber and mint, left him lightheaded. All of which was worth the punch she threw.
Her eyes widened, shining like the biggest emeralds he had ever seen, so instantly full of regret for something he very much deserved. It sent an electric jolt through Casimir that nearly cracked him in half. Olline was far too sweet for a place like Antal.
Which broke his heart, knowing what he had to do in order to survive.