AkumaQuil

He inches closer, a single finger roaming her heated skin. Breath mingling with breath. 

A loud bang vibrates through the room, so thunderous as if god himself was furious.

Slowly he looks up staring out the large glass windows to the backyard, 

"You have a visitor." His rasps calmly.

"Who?" Rose quickly fires, feigning ignorance. She knew well enough who it was. Her nightly visitor has arrived.

Surprising, He only visits when she is alone.

"One who comes out at night. Lurking in the shadows, in the darkness... just like its intensions."

He looks down still leaning on top her, once more pinning her with his intense gaze.

"Are you afraid?" His voice dead serious, eyes going back to look outside.

And Rose lied, "No." 

But is it a lie when her fear was never really rooting enough to make her run the other way but instead often getting mixed with exhilaration.

"You should be."  

He leaves her staring wide eyed on the sofa and goes to stand before the glass panes.

"It's not happy to see me here. I can see the raging pits of fire in it's gaze. Ready to burn me right where I stand." he chuckled, sounding most sinister, "It definitely wants to rip my innards out."

"You should take off your shirt." He suggests casually.

"Excuse me?"

"Let's see if it riles him up even more to shatter instead of just slamming the windows like a wuss." He rouses under his breath, his excited provocative tone not escaping Rose's attention. 

What the hell is he up to?

"This isn't funny." Rose sputters out, standing up from the couch.

"I'm not trying to be." He faces her again, sporting a deadpan face. 

"Whatever. You think I'm one of your stupid fan girls to take my shirt off just because you want to rile someone up? Besides, there's probably no one outside and you're only making it up to see my boobs like a pervert."

His eyes roams her from top to bottom, there was distaste evident in his gaze.

"When he comes at night and leaves a little something for you, maybe then you take off your clothes for him... like a slut." Rome stared into her eyes with nothing behind those icy orbs to show for a lack of meaning behind his words. Because he means every single thing he says to her.

"Get. Out. Now!" Rose boomed furiously. 

"Whatever, I was leaving anyway. This has become boring." He walks towards her front door.

"Wait. How do you know he comes at night and leaves something?" her eyes narrow.

"Because I've seen it before."

"You saw him? It is a real guy?" Rose wanted to confirm, for some reason she thought otherwise.

"I never said I saw him. I've only seen it happening to someone else." 

"Whom?" 

"You don't need to know." He closes off.

"Then at least tell me what happened to her? Can I meet this person?" 

"You can't." Refusing calmly he was almost out the door when Rose pleads against hope.

"Please."

"You can't because she disappeared." Those were the words that finally did it. Brought her racing heart and buzzing head to a sudden halt. "Never to be seen again." 

 "When he stops visiting, that's when you should be most afraid." His words rang like a siren in the silence of her mind as he left.

Now she felt true fear for the first time.

==

In the embrace of her ancestral town, Rose seeks refuge from the echoes of her past. 

Little does she know, her return to her roots will awaken dormant shadows, shattering ordinary her existence. 

For when the darkness falls over the town, from the pitch black rises a shadowy figure that haunt her nights. 

In the darkness he sweeps her off the ground in terrible fear and the allure of sinister intrigue.

And once the sun comes, a man with a god awful attitude, haunts her in the broad day light. Causing her to swell with pure disdain. 

With each passing night, it draws closer to Rose, casting a chilling spell that both terrifies and exhilarates her.

Thrust into a labyrinth of mysteries can she navigate the treacherous path laid before her, or will her nightly visitor consume her whole?

He Comes At Night

At first, I brushed it off, my brows furrowing in reflex. But something gnawed at me, a strange pull, making me do a double take.

Back in all his insufferable, arrogant glory.

It wasn't like I was waiting or anything. But a heads-up would've been nice. You know, something along the lines of warning: your sworn enemy has returned—brace yourself for impact.

I sat frozen for a beat, my fingers idly toying with a fry, eyes flicking toward the open basketball court a few yards away.

Leo sat across from me, unaware, his back turned to the sight unfolding behind him.

Rome was in motion, clad in a loose tank top that draped over his sharp frame, muscles flexing effortlessly as he dribbled the ball with sharp precision, no one able to catch up to him or the ball in his hand. Yes, he was that fast.

His movements were fluid, lethal, like he owned the game. No—like he owned the space around him and everyone else on that court were just his sidekicks.

If he wasn't so rotten to the core, I would say he played very well.

And the moment he sprinted toward the hoop, no one could keep up. He soared through the air, gravity-defying, and slammed the ball through the net with an ease that should be unattainable.

A deafening cheer erupted from the sidelines—the predictable, swooning chorus of his bimbo brigade.

With a true showman's flair, he hung from the hoop a moment longer than necessary, flexing his biceps as if putting on a private show only for his blonde audience.

What an insufferable show off. My eyes rolled at him even though he couldn't even see it.

Then, he dropped to the ground, landing with the grace of a panther, exuding nothing but smug, effortless dominance.

I huffed into the empty air in front of me. God, I hope he falls on his face next time.

But let's be real—his fan club would probably still fall to their knees for him, worshipping at the altar of Rome Dracken all for a single glance from him. Seriously, what do they see in him?

I could've sworn that when he straightened from his landing, his eyes locked onto mine.

Panic sparked in my chest, and before I could stop myself, I whipped my head away, acting like I had been caught red-handed doing something illegal.

Looking at him with anything other than absolute contempt should be illegal. A sin, even.

God, please tell me I had my scowl on.

But why was I even fussing over it? He probably didn't even see me with the sea of boobs crowding around him.

And then—because fate was a relentless bitch—a basketball smacked the back of Leo's head. Yes, the same basket ball he was just dribbling.

Not a brutal hit, but enough to make Leo go rigid, his jaw locking as he stood from the bench, slowly turning to face the offender.

Rome jogged over, to retrieve the ball with a casual ease, his expression unreadable.

Out of everyone on that damn court, he was the one to come fetch the ball?

77. His Arrogant Glory