Chapter Three #2
“Never too scared.” I wink at him and he chuckles.
A ding rings through the store and we both glance at the male walking in.
My eyes widen as I drink him in. His hair is dark and messy on his head.
Tattoos litter his muscular arms and neck, spiraling down into his black pressed button up.
His brown, almost black eyes flicker to us and the most ruthless emotion wafts off him.
I step back into Alistair, intimidated and his arm lightly grazes mine.
“Sorry.” I mumble as Alistair steps in front of me.
“That’s Kian Grimm, avoid him like the plague Sylvia. I’ll talk to you later, ok?” He whispers so only I can hear him.
I nod, my gaze on the guy, Kian. He guides me around him and towards the door, blocking me from Kian. Amos follows as well, his steps unhurried unlike mine.
“What are you two love birds up to?” His voice shoots straight down to my core and I stumble over my feet. It’s low and possesses a smoothness I’ve never heard before.
“Hey, Kian. She was just leaving.” Alistair tells him as he helps me down the steps of the store.
“See you at school, Sylvia.” I turn to him with a smile, collecting myself.
“I don’t know a Sylvia and I’m sure I’d remember such a pretty name.” His voice fills my ears again and my gaze drifts from Alistair to him.
My glare is heated as I face him properly. He towers over me on the steps, but even if he was off of them we wouldn’t meet eye level like Alistair and I.
“I’m new here.” I mutter.
“Don’t bother her, Kian.” Alistair says at the same time as me.
I push him to the side, able to speak for myself and pain flashes in his eyes.
“Nice, can’t wait to see you around Sylvia…?” I blink, confused, until I realize he wants my last name.
“Sylvia Swan, daughter of Jason Swan.” He nods.
“Beautiful name, Little Swan.” I scrunch my face up in confusion but he turns from me and walks deeper into the shop.
Alistair turns to me with a pained expression. “Sylvia, why didn’t you listen to me?”
“I’m a grown woman. I can speak and choose for myself.” I look at him perplexed. Men these days and their controlling ways.
“I’m sorry that's not what I was trying to do.” He rubs his hand down his chiseled jaw. “Kian is not a nice guy. I just don’t want him targeting you.”
“What? Target me?” I scowl.
“Yes, he targets people, makes them his prey and devours their soul until nothing's left. Be careful around him.” He whispers and glances at Kian across the aisles.
I look over at him too. He screams danger, but the way he moves draws me in. He’s got a quiet calmness and self-possession that makes him more charismatic than he already is. I want to know his story, to draw him.
“Oh, sorry for being a bitch. I thought you were trying to control who I talked to but I know how to handle myself. A guy like that can’t get under my skin.”
“It’s fine. I’m sorry for sounding that way. I promise I would never do that. He’s pretty big in this town. He can get out of hand.” Alistair says and I nod.
“Well, see you. I’m going to check out the charity shop I saw on the way in.” I say and wave goodbye.
I spread out on the loveseat, a book in my hand and hot tea in the other. Amos is cuddled up in my lap, his nose buried in the warmth of my thighs.
The small charity shop is pleasant, much nicer than I anticipated.
The elderly lady who greeted me and took my order was just as friendly as Alistair.
The people in this area are kind and gentle, greeting my new face with hugs and smiles.
I know one day I’ll be able to love this town without the burden of my mother’s death on my shoulder.
I plan to look into it tomorrow, starting back at our old home and town. The ride there by train will be faster than father’s driving, that's for sure. I don’t even know where to start; the home she was murdered in, the burial site, or maybe even her job?
I lift my tea to my lips taking a small sip as I turn the page of my book.
The bell to the shop dings, indicating someone coming in.
Their feet hit the wooden floor with confidence, precision as they stop right in front of me—anticipation sinks into my mind.
My eyes never leave the pages but goosebumps begin to cover the skin of my neck making me glance at the figure leaning against the table in front of me.
His soulless gaze meets mine, a pit so empty I can see my reflection. I skate over his plump lips, his tongue darting out to lick the bottom one before disappearing back into his mouth and the muscles that bulge out of his black button up.
He’s beautiful in such a cruel way, the kind that makes you hate yourself for staring a little too long.
A mole dots his chiseled jaw, outlining his features and making them even more tempting.
Tattoos crawl out of his short sleeve button up and down his arms. I want to reach out, feel them below my finger and imagine them drawn on a canvas.
“Can I help you?” I mutter as I chew nervously on my tongue ring.
He shrugs, his expression lazy in a way that makes a vein pop against my neck. His hand comes out, snatching my book. The pages crumpling in his large hand as if it’s made of air.
How perfect he looks, digs a grave annoyance in my skull and my grip on my tea becomes impeccably strong.
His eyes remain on me as he flips through the pages. “A romance novel?” His laugh is sharp, mocking and a blush heats my cheeks. “Didn’t think a girl like you would spend her time dreaming about broody men who write poetry and live in Paris."
His words shouldn’t surprise me based on what Alistair said, but I never would’ve thought he’d start immediately.
“A girl like me? What does that mean? Give me my book back.” I snap, my spine straightening.
A cruel laugh leaves his lips as his eyes snap to the cover of the book. He taps the heart locket in the middle and turns back to me, his gaze no less cutting than before.
“Pathetic really. You believe in happy endings and fairytales. Shit that doesn’t exist, and I've gotta be honest with you Little Swan, no one here is going to give you that.” His words are cutting and something in me snaps.
I sit my tea down with deadly calmness and look back into those dead eyes of his.
“At least I have the guts to want something more than money and my father's country club. You wouldn’t know what's real if it smacked you in the face, Kian.” His name is spitfire as it leaves my mouth and his eyebrows lift with surprise before his lips turn sharper.
Something dangerous settles in him, something that’s devastatingly cutthroat. He looks down at the gold rolex on his wrist, the jewels sparkling in the light. My agitation only grows the longer he stands in front of me, like I’m the burden.
“Fiesty. I like it.” His voice drips with sarcasm as he leans on the table. “You’ll break the same though, maybe scream louder. Just because you have resilience doesn't mean you have strength.”
My chest grows tight as I look at him. His veiny hands flex out and his weight causes the table to groan. I look at the gold rings on his fingers and down at my book in his palm—the pages bending in weird ways. I look back at him and notice glints of green pulsing through the abyss of black.
“You’ll be waiting a long time. I won’t break without a fight.” I whisper, our breaths mingling from his closeness.
“Doesn’t mean you won’t, Little Swan, and I’ve got all the time in the world.” His head slowly tilts to the side as he observes me.
No telling what’s running through his mind, but I want to get as far as I can away from Kian Grimm. His name is already a whisper in the back of my mind.
“No one will save you when I’m devouring you whole, Little Swan.” He tsks. “ The only person who can protect you from me, is me. You really thought you could come into my town unnoticed, think again. I’ll be haunting your dreams.”
He stands back to his full height, leaving my book a crumpled mess on the table. His gaze sweeps over me, deliberate and cruel.
“I don’t have time to listen to a guy who thinks cruelty makes them powerful. Move on.” A smirk lifts the corners of my mouth as his falls. Seems I've struck a nerve.
“We’ll see.” He muses. “See you around, my pretty Little Swan.”
He turns around before I can say anything else. His laugh booming as he throws up a hand goodbye. The elderly lady looks up, watching him as he leaves and then to me. Her eyebrows lift but she doesn’t say anything and I look away.
The jingle of the door sounds again as he steps out and I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I pull on my corset and look at the destroyed book, the spine and pages ruined.
I pick it up with trembling fingers, not from fear but fury, and walk over to the elderly lady.
“I can pay for the book. That guy crumbled it up but I’ll pay for it. I’m sorry.” I hold the book out towards her and a sympathetic smile spreads across her sagged rosy cheeks.
She grabs the book from me and throws it in the bin behind her, not sparing it another glance. “It’s ok, dear. I’ve got more copies in the back. Kian can be a handful.”
My eyebrows furrow and my hand drops to my side.
“You know him?” I ask.
“Oh yeah, he’s the town’s king. His parents own everything—literally every store, road, home, and landmark. It's all theirs. I’d be careful if I were you.” She tsks and shakes her wrinkled hand.
Everyone here seems scared of that brat. I’ll be damned if he takes my chance at a nice home away. I won’t be scared and I won’t back down.
If he wants to play, we can play.
“Yes ma’am. Once again sorry for the book. I can bring in some of my old books.” I say with a smile.
“Call me Jane, ma’am makes me feel old and please don’t worry about the book. The Grimms supply all stores with a salary, they won’t even notice the book is gone.” She says with a few nods.
My smile falls but I catch it. The Grimms sound like rich pricks who don’t give a damn about material items. I don’t say that to her though. I just nod.
“Jane, I'm Sylvia.” A warm smile spreads across her cheeks. “I’ll be back another day, but it’s getting late. Thank you for the tea.” I say.
She nods. “Of course, dear. I’ll be here. Walk home safely and have a good night.”
I smile and wave at her before I walk out the shop. The air is much chillier and my clothes seem nonexistent against the harsh wind. I pick up Amos and hold him to my chest to keep him warm. As I walk I admire the street lamps, each one casting a soft yellow glow on the cobblestone sidewalk.