Beneath his gaze

Too close to fear

Isabella

He’s tall 6’3 at least and has muscle like he works out but it’s not his life’s mission to stay in shape. His hands are muscular, almost the size of my face like he could squish it if he really wanted to. The veins on them caught my eye. No gloves. Like he doesn’t care about leaving evidence although part of me knows he won’t.

His eyes are almost a grey but somehow not. Their uniqueness in color draws me in almost as much as how they glint with a quiet, steady focus, like nothing escapes his notice. He always seems so calm yet the air around him ignites with danger. Everything about him screams for me to run yet I’m drawn in. Held captive by his eyes, his voice..

His deep voice that still runs cold shivers down my spine every single time I think of it. A spark of heat that it causes to ignite within me despite my best efforts to blur it out.

He always sounds so in control, like he knows the answers without ever having to ask the question. The rebellious part of me wonders what he would be like if he ever lost it, what he would do. The other more practical part of me screams that I wouldn’t want to find out.

Each side warring with the other but sanity wins. So I don’t test him even if part of me still wants to. To see him lose control, to see what he does.

I’d spent almost a whole week at home, my mind racing with thoughts and excuses. He’d killed a man, not technically in front of me although it was basically the same. But he was protecting me wasn’t he? It didn’t have to take a genius to figure out the drunk customer would have done had he not shown up.

He’s been there all along but I was too naive, trying to convince myself that he wasn’t really there and that I was going crazy until he opened my eyes to him.

I’d used almost all my sick leave too scared to leave the house after the violent altercation.

My boss Lisa understood, I mean she seemed to anyway but soon understanding turns to irritation. She stopped listening to why I didn’t want to come in and gave me the ultimatum.

Come in or find another job.

Forced with the reality of the situation, I dragged myself out of bed and got ready. I was anxious the whole shift, jumpy at every noise. I broke several glasses accidentally before Lisa sent me home saying the glasses would come out of my pay.

Great, another thing that would come to bite me in the ass. As I walked out I felt it. Him. He was watching. I stopped in the alley as I scanned my surroundings trying to find him. He stepped forward making me flinch back.

“I’m not here to hurt you Bella” his voice comes out low, husky, deep yet cold. Steady, carrying a sincerity I can hear despite the unease it stirs in me. Somehow it still causes my body to react to him. To believe him. Even after witnessing the aftermath of what he did. I believed him. I still do. Because he didn’t hurt me that night or any night since. He’s been patient, showing up when I least expect it. When I get too comfortable, allowing me to think he’s gone only to completely shatter the illusion.

He plays tricks on me, moves things like he enjoys seeing the confused puzzlement in my expression when I notice. My body knows before my mind can even register his gaze. The goose bumps that rise, the way the butterflies erupt in my stomach, the nervous twitch of my fingers and the impossible urge to hold my lip captive between my teeth.