"Get out," I tell him, but Mysterio is just standing there, tall and lean like a tree that could care less about the hissing winds - me, I’m the hissing winds - because it knows it will never get pushed down, "you're going to get yourself killed."

Doesn't he have any self preservation? He should value his own life… I value mine, and if he's caught in here, Trent will kill us both.

The longer he stands still, the more I realize how much my whole body is on high alert. I can feel the prickles of fear of being left alone here with him.

Some of his hair has fallen out of where it's tied back and his muscles somehow seem more pronounced than they were five minutes ago. With thumbs tucked into his pockets, his fingers are tapping against his jeans and he makes this small sound, almost like a decisive grunt as his fingers still and the corners of his lips tip up revealing those canines that shouldn't exist in his human form.

He looks deranged.

Crazy on all counts with this attractiv
Marie Night

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