Bella Bosque
ABOUT ME
ABOUT ME
STORY BY Bella Bosque
Marks and Scars
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His eyes were so cold, so stunning that it stopped everything around me. It took a moment for me to get past the eyes and see him. Everything about him screamed to run away. His dark hair was either perfectly messy or perfectly styled to appear messy, framing his tanned face. His eyes were dark and piercing. He had a strange pattern of tattoos climbing up his left arm, disappearing beneath the sleeves of his black t shirt Everything about him seemed to be something I should avoid. “What are you afraid of?” he repeated. “Right now. What’s stopping you?” “I don’t think I’m afraid of anything,” I said honestly, raising my shoulders. “I’m just trying to be responsible.” “Responsible?” Jeremy laughed. “Are you telling me… don’t you know?” “Don’t I know what?” I asked him. A storm of frustration clouded his eyes and I instinvtively shrunk back. His lips crashed against mine. I tensed up, but my resolve melted before I could fully process what was happening. All of the sudden, I had been dying of thirst and his lips were sweet nectar. I raised my hands, laying them on his chest gently, curling my fingers into his soft black T-shirt. When I didn’t resist, he deepened the kiss, parting my lips gently. He slid one of his hands up my arm and gently wrapped it around my neck. Excitement sparked within me along with the sensations his fingers left on my skin. I wondered what was happening to me. This was more than just a bad decision following a night of drinking. This was something more, something that I felt deep down. I needed this. I needed him.
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Sweet Blooded
7
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“...why did you do it?” he asked, one brow arched slightly higher than the other. I closed my eyes at the question. “Look at me, and answer, Evelyn.” The words sounded rough and ground out. I opened my eyes again slowly. “Why aren’t I dead yet?” “Answer the question.” “That is the answer. Why aren’t I dead yet? I should have been dead within the first week I was here. But instead, you’re just prolonging my existence. Why?” “Because I’m not done with you yet.” I scoffed. I actually scoffed, and I saw his glare sharpen when he heard it. But I didn’t care, I looked back at the ceiling angrily, blinking back more tears. “Do you really want to die?” he demanded. “I don’t want to live like this.” “You don’t have a choice.”
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