Chapter 27

I lifted my head lazily to see a deathly pale hand point to the seat opposite mine. My gaze traveled along the arm to his gauntly thin face. His cheeks were hollowed out leaving harsh lines in its wake. He wore a suit, tailored to perfection, and a tye, stained with red. 

"No," I squeaked. 

His movements were slow but determined. Every stride he took had a meaning and he didn't waste time or energy. 

When he sat opposite me, I scowled. Even from across the table I felt the burn of his eyes, two puddles darker than night stared at me. His black hair was slicked back tidily, not a strand out of place and his paper-thin lips tugged up into a smirk. The cold of Deshawn beside me was merely a background thought as the man in front of me radiate