002 – HONEY, I’M TOXIC.

🦋 CATALINA 🦋

“Since I helped him, he isn’t going to kill me, right?” This is all I can think about, after being tied up by the person my bad luck pushes me into letting into my home.

I am tied to a wooden chair, my hands and legs tied behind the chair, and it hurts like hell. I can feel blood draining away from that part of my body, and then it becomes numb.

He is on the couch, his legs resting on the center table, gawking at me closely in his all black jean pants and singlet that don’t hide his muscular body and scary aura in any way, with a mask that only gave way for his heterochromic blue and green eyes, his thick lashes, and his extra-thick brows. And his arms are covered in tattoos.

I still don’t get why I’m being tied to a chair in my own house, but I know I’m in danger as I stare back at the weirdo staring at me like I’m some piece of art. Not exactly, more like a slice of fresh meat.

“Since I helped you, you wouldn’t hurt me, right?” I blurt out the question that has been crawling in my mind.

“Who gave you that theory? Because I didn’t,” his voice rings out. He says it once, but it echoes multiple times in my head. What a voice! Even without putting a face to his voice, that voice will definitely lure you to hell like a spell, before you realise it, you are already where he wants you to be. It was thick, manly and hoarse, like a tune, one I will definitely not be able to get out of my head.

“Then what are you waiting for? If you are going to kill me, just do it. You are wasting my time,” I retort, and I regret it immediately, because he drops his legs from the table, stands up from the couch, and walks closer to me, bending his body as he leans closer to take a better view of my face.

My heart is pounding so fast, I’m sure he can hear it. I am scared to death, and if my hands aren’t tied, I will have to slap my mouth and crawl on the ground for forgiveness.

“Do you know who I am?” He asks with a serious face, his eyes lock on mine in a way that I can’t dare look away.

Swallowing hard, I slowly bump my head up and down. Who doesn’t know the monster terrorizing our city?

“Who am I?” he asks again. This time, he stands straight, walks towards the dining table, picks up a knife, and walks back to me. He leans back, even closer than the first time. I can feel his eyes burning a hole in my face and his warm breath on my skin as he points the knife at my throat and draws a line with its sharp edge.

Blood begins to flow down my neck, and a sharp pain follows. I wince in pain and throw my neck back, trying to shift on the chair, away from him, even if it’s just an inch away.

Catching on, he holds my hair tightly to pin me in place, I gasp from the strong effect and the pain that hits me, I don’t know which is more painful: his heartless grip on my hair, or the knife cutting my flesh, and suddenly, he pulls his mask up a little, stopping at the tip of his nose, and I feel his wet, warm tongue on my neck as he licks the blood off, down to my collar bone.

I jerk, my eyes widening in shock, dancing around the room as a moan-cry escapes my lips.

Did he just lick my blood off?

Yes, he did! He fucking did! I’m definitely in danger… what is he, a vampire? Or a bloodsucking bedbug.

I’ll go for the latter. Vampire is just unbelievable. Not in my lifetime… I hope.

Earlier, I wasn’t aware, or I wasn’t sure, but now I know that if I come out of this alive, which is probably not happening, I will never be the same person.

“What are you?” I bark and he pauses, lifting my chin with the knife.

“If I tell you, you wouldn’t believe it.”

My body reacted to those words in a dangerous way, and I inhaled sharply to suppress my fear, “If I’m about to die, then I think I deserve to know what’s going to kill me. How unbelievable could it be? It’s not like you’d say you are a vampire...”

Pausing his lips, he looked me over, getting to my face, he stopped and stared at me, “I am a vampire.”

That’s just ridiculous. When that old priestess said to me when I was 10, about blood following my every step, she wasn’t referring to a vampire now… was she?”

“You sound stupid…” I murmur, but it seems he heard me because he narrows his eyes and stares down at the knife he is holding. “But let’s assume I believe you, when you tasted my blood, did you want to…”

“Feed on you?” he completes, and I swallow hard, “Yes! Did I do it? No! Would I eventually do it? Yes! Should you provoke me into doing it now? Hella no!”

“I won’t ask you again,” he growls, kicking me back to reality.

I part my lips to speak, but nothing comes out until his mouth comes on my neck again, and he bites down on the exact place he had bruised with a knife.

I scream in pain, my hands and legs fighting to break loose from behind the chair as tears gather in my eyes, “You are the squad leader of Lucifer’s heir.” I cry out, choking on my words.

“A killer, a thief, a psychopath… You do terrible things, everything terrible, you are a very dangerous person, and you enjoy the sight and taste of blood,” I whisper, letting the word I said sink into my brain.

Right, he’s dangerous – so why did I let him in?

“So why did you let me in?” he roars, the same question I keep asking myself, his eyes not leaving mine. “If you are aware, this is dangerous for you…I’m dangerous for you. What makes you think I’ll let you go un-scattered?”

“I did that to them,” he said, scoffing, pointing at the television screen, on which news of him is still being displayed. If only they knew I have the demonic criminal in my house. “I’ll do that to you, too; I’ll feed on you and you’ll die. Right now, I’m curious about what is inside you. Is your heart made of rocks or iron? What kind of liver do you have? How about your kidneys? Those purple eyes, I want them carved out of your face.”

My heart skips a beat. No, it skips multiple beats until I learn to breathe again. “You have an authentic eye yourself; maybe you should carve yours out before you carve mine out,” I fire back.

I notice his lips parting in awe behind his mask, and his eyes glow in satisfaction, an expression on a child’s face when they get a new, more challenging, fun toy to play with.

“This is incredible!” he growls. “You are talking back, now I want your tongue too. Didn’t your parents teach you not to provoke dangerous people?”

“Nobody tells me what to do,” I snap, and another sharp pain comes crashing down on me as he bites my wounded neck again, this time, he not only bit on it, he sucks it so strongly that he almost rips my flesh off, and when he pulls away, my blood was all over his lips and I watch him lick it off and swallow with his eyes lit in satisfaction and a smirk on his face in a way that says, “I want to do nothing but eat you.”

I am still scream-crying from the extreme pain I’m feeling when he holds my hair again and tilts my head backwards, forcing me to stare into his all-consuming heterochromic blue and green eyes, which have a slight spill of red.

Leaning in, he bites my earlobe and whispers into my ear, “I’m going to tell you what to do… and you are going to do it.”