Ace_zza

“So you’re the one meant to kill me?” he asked, less than amused, his deep flat voice in constract to those dead eyes. It was filled with intensity, such darkness that threatened to devour the one that seared her veins. 
‘You never know if I’m just the only one,’ She sang, unwavering under his scorching gaze. He seemed to contemplate, perhaps the ways he could kill her or the ways he could torture her audacity.
She returned the gesture, as the chains kept her restrained. She would’ve killed him when she had the chance. And now, her prey made her his.
It was either the intensity of his gaze or the change in the current of the wind, raising the hairs on her body when he sauntered to her direction.
“That’s sad,” and now he stood closer, the smell of citrus and rain filled her nostrils tinting her face red. “Because you’re all I see-”
‘I’ll kill you before you lay a single finger on me,’ She threatened, determination boiled her blood.
“Too bad,” his voice rumbled slowly, lacking even the slightest warmth, as he closed the distance. She could feel his breath fan across her neck when he leaned in and her knees threatened to buckle. 
What was this?
He sniffed, and she stuttered a breath, feeling something tingle below her abdomen. She didn’t like this. But at the same time, she knew it was nothing but a lie.
His fangs grazed her skin and she shivered. It was unmerciful and torturous, like carving a will on an old crypt then nibbled her flesh and she gasped, heat scorching her insides. Oh heavens…
“Whoever created you did a terrible job,” The manner of which he commented was utterly devoid of emotion. “Because, two things,” he paused and she gritted, her position impossible to reach out and kill him. “I’m the one who created you,” he counted. “And two… you’re going to die.” His voice was calm, deliberate, and utterly devoid of mercy when he whispered, “Get ready to die, thief.”

Shackles Of The Past

 “Aw, she looks sick. Poor girl wants to run away,” The sarcasm in that tone earned a groan. 


 Laughter bellowed across the silent corridor, belonging to three people and one firmly holding someone in place. 


 From their polished armor illuminated by the fading glare of moonlight, and their swords owned to their scabbard at the side of their pants, one could already tell they stood as guards. 


 The sharp groan silenced by the hand secured on her mouth, chaperoned with the yank and tang couldn't stop them, especially the one positioning her body. 


 Her stamina was singular to the vigorous grasp at her shoulders and another shrouding her mouth. 


 Gytha’s eyes flared as they mocked her vulnerability. She kicked with all her might, but she was at all odds owed to her position. 


Chapter 66- At the corridors