Finally, chapter from hell
Jan. 5th, 2010 02:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blood_crowTitle: Smoke and Mirrors [Part Five]
Pairing: Akon x Grimmjow
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Swearing, some angst
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, I only steal its characters so I can go on perverted conquests via fan fics. Also, all characters involved in sexual situations are fictional and above the legal age of consent in the state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.
A/N: The first chapter for this story written from Grimmjow's POV. In fact, this is my first time ever writing from Grimmjow's POV! I'm doing this chapter for those of you who were interested in hearing his thoughts ;D
← Part Four
Of all the bullshit I've had to deal with since being in Soul Society, this has to be the worst. Watching some skinny, sick looking shinigami scribble at a desk is like watching paint dry. I got tired of sitting in that tiny ass room, so I came out here looking for something to do. How I ended up in this guy's office I don't really know, and if I remember right his name is Kira Izuru. But I couldn't care less what his name is, because there's only one name I need to know.
If it wasn't for that orange-haired dipshit, I'd still be in that little glass room instead of watching a shinigami fill out paperwork. There's only one person that can kill Kurosaki Ichigo, and that's me. His life is mine, and I can't take it if I'm dead on some freak's lab table. It burns my ass giving into these shinigami, but you gotta do what you gotta do. I figure the pay off in the end will be worth it. I'd rather play along for a little while, than lose out on pummeling Kurosaki. I want that shinigami's heart in my hand and his bloodied corpse in a broken heap at my feet. He'll be nothing but a smear on the pavement when I'm through with him. Yea...just thinking about it puts a grin on my face, my fingers twitching in anticipation.
You'd think that being "free" would reassure me; make me feel a little better about my current situation. But it doesn't, in all actuality it makes me feel even worse. I'm going out of my fucking mind right now. All my life I've had something to do, but here there ain't shit to occupy my time. They won't let me fight anyone, won't even take this damned thing off my neck so I can flex my reiatsu. I'm cooped up in that little room and no matter how they dress it up, it's still a prison. I'm a prisoner here and I fucking hate it.
When I was just a hollow I was always busy: eating Gillians so I'd become an Adjucha, then eating Adjuchas so I could be a Vasto Lordes. Then I turned into an Arrancar and not soon after I met Kurosaki. He was the one thing that kept me going; the one thing that gave me something to look forward to. Every time I went to the Human World I'd go looking for him, and when I was stuck in Hueco Mundo I had him to think about. Killing the orange-haired shinigami was always on my mind and it was always within reach. But now I'm stuck in this fucking hellhole, and that one murderous goal of mine feels like it's getting father and father away. It's making me restless, and if I'm not careful I'm gonna lose it.
In fact, I'm getting so impatient at this point that I actually miss being experimented on. There was no way in hell I liked being caged like an animal, getting harassed with needles and scalpels, but it distracted me. The pain kept me busy and it reminded me of how life used to be in Hueco Mundo -- of what it was like to fight someone. It triggered that all-too-familiar blood-lust, because every time that yellow-toothed shinigami showed up, I'd imagine ripping him to shreds. Those daydreams kept me content, for the most part. Call me a sick fucker but that's the kinda thing I get off on. That's the kind of thing that keeps me goin'. I need a violent stimuli, okay? Don't judge me until you've tried it for yourself. You'd be surprised at how damn good it feels shoving your fist through someone else's chest.
Sometimes I think that maybe, just maybe, if there was another Arrancar here in Soul Society, I wouldn't be so pissed off. It'd be a twisted kind of comfort, knowing that I wasn't the only one being held back from my power. It'd be nice if there was someone else that couldn't indulge in the much needed killing spree. But, as far as I know, the other Espada were killed in the war. Looks like I'm the only one left, and consequently I'm the only one suffering. That adds to my fury, makes me even more agitated and on edge than I already am. I hate that those other fuckers got off so easy.
Pacing behind the blond shinigami, I scowl at his bowed head and contemplate killing him. Normally I'd put a hole in his chest with one of my ceros, but seeing as they put the kibosh on my powers, I have to get more creative. I could always break that frail little neck...snapping bone is a good sound, not as satisfying as the feel of warm blood on my skin, but sometimes you gotta compromise. After I kill him there's no doubt the other shinigami will come running, and that could be fun. I haven't seen excitement in days, so an army of zanpakutou is welcome. They'd have the upper hand, of course, and usually I'm not the type to fight when the terms ain't equal. But there comes a point in your life when you get desperate.
"Is there a problem, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez?"
His quiet words jolt me, disrupting my lethal thoughts. I blink them away and glance down, my gaze meeting that of the other man's. My brows furrow and I narrow my eyes to slits. "Yea there's a problem. I'm fucking bored."
The blond gives a little sigh, dipping his pen into the ink before he goes back to writing. "I gave you something to do earlier, but you refused."
I snort loudly and point towards the desk at the other side of the room. "If you're talking about all those papers over there, like hell I'd actually do that."
"It was only a suggestion. You don't have to if you don't want to, but it would keep you busy. If you're going to choose boredom over work, then you shouldn't complain about it later on."
"I'd be just as bored filling out paperwork as I am right now!" I counter, voice raising an octave. I move around the desk so I'm standing in front of it, then put my fists on the hard surface and lean down, a low growl working its way up my throat. "Take this fucking thing off my neck and let me fight someone."
The frail looking shinigami cocks an eyebrow, then slowly pushes his ink aside. It looks like he wants to keep it out of my reach, as if I'd knock it over. That brings a smirk to my face and I'm half tempted to do just that, but I decide not to when he exhales and sits back in his chair.
"Removing the reiatsu limiter isn't in my hands, necessarily. But I've a feeling you won't have to wait much longer." The blond stares up at me, a weird look in his eyes that I can't quite read. He gathers his papers between slim hands and taps them a few times, before setting the stack in a box at the corner of his desk. When he starts to get up I lean back slowly, rolling my shoulders and inclining my chin. I wait for him to elaborate but he doesn't, just starts removing his white haori. When it's off completely he folds it and sets it on top of his desk, then grabs hold of the fabric above his obi, pulling it from his hakama. My eyes are widening before a I know it and my upper lip curls.
"The fuck are you doing?"
The smaller man smiles softly as he tugs the top of his uniform free. It hangs down by his thighs, leaving his torso bare and exposed. "I'm getting ready for a meeting with the Shinigami Men's Association."
"Huh?" I grunt roughly, my squint suspicious.
"The Shinigami Men's Association," he repeats. Now he's pulling his arms out of the sleeves of his uniform, leaving it to rest limply on his shoulders. "You can come with me, if you'd like. It'd be better than going back to your room."
My gaze follows him as he heads for the shoji door and slides it open. I shove my hands into my pockets and follow him slowly, feeling a little reluctant. "It has to be stupid, if that outfit is anything to go by."
"I wouldn't worry about anyone's appearance if I were you, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez," the blond chuckles, glancing at my clothes pointedly. Earlier, I'd finally gotten sick of wearing that white yukata, mainly 'cause it had no pockets for me to rest my hands in. So I decided I'd suck it up and wear what they gave me. The black hakama was decent enough -- not much different from the white one I used to wear -- but the top part was too long. So I ripped off the bottom, cutting its length down to half, like the white jacket of my old uniform. I've seen the way these shinigami tuck their robes into their hakama, and that's just plain fucking stupid. I don't want all that extra material getting in my way, bunching up around my hips and thighs, twisting and pulling every time I move. It's a damn distraction, if you ask me. And when I get down to business and I'm ready to beat someone brainless, I don't need any distractions. Not to mention that if I wore it the way shinigami did, no one would see my hollow hole or Sexta tattoo.
"Che, you outta appreciate the view," I tell the smaller man, with a crooked, smug grin. He smiles at me softly, but keeps quiet as we walk down a busy hallway, ignoring the nosey stares of other shinigami.
"Are you fucking kidding me? You have your 'meetings' in the damn bathroom?" I grunt, my tone a little incredulous. The blond beside me utters a quiet (but strangely dark...) laugh.
"We used to have our own room but the Women's Association wanted it for storage...and no one else would let us borrow their assembly halls."
Sneering, I bark a laugh and cross my arms over my chest. "Fucking pathetic! You sure that this isn't the Women's Association? It might as well be, you bunch of pussies."
There's plenty more insults where that came from. I could go on all day, really. But when I catch a whiff of something eerily familiar... Nostrils flaring, I whip my head around to follow that smell. And there he is, heading straight for us, with that jet-black hair and those tiny little horns. There's a cigarette in his mouth, the stink of smoke assaulting my nose. Fuck, it's like the guy can't live without sucking on one of those nasty sticks. To my surprise his uniform is open, hanging off his shoulders like Kira and the others. His torso is tanner and more muscular than I thought it'd be, and that surprises me even more.
"Kira," he mumbles, nodding his head faintly. When his gaze drifts back to me I notice a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Arrancar."
His voice is rougher than I remember it being, but then again I never really paid attention to the way he sounds. I have to wonder why I'm noticing now, of all times. Could it have something to do with all that naked flesh just begging to be bloodied and bruised? Tch, yea fuckin' right. I tilt my head back with all the arrogance I can muster and stare down at him coldly.
"What the hell are you doin' here?" I demand, eyes narrowed. That little smirk of his is still there, curling around the cigarette between his lips. I feel my own lip curling in response, my gaze going to the orange-and-gray tip.
"I could ask you the same thing," he answers lazily, looking past me and to Kira Izuru, like he's waiting for some kind of explanation. The blond steps up beside me, that angular bang blocking his face from my view.
"He kept complaining so I thought I'd bring him along."
"It's like a kid, right?" Akon says, his chuckle low and husky. "Always bitching and moaning. I thought I had a hard time dealing with it in my division, but at least then we had it locked up."
I don't know what comes over me, but suddenly I'm seeing red. Something inside me snaps and I have Akon up against the wall, my hand clenched in a fist as I reach my arm back. I've always had a short fuse, and these two fuckers talking about me like I ain't even there gets right under my skin. Not to mention that he called me a fucking it, like I'm not on their level, like I'm somehow beneath them. Oh man, fuck with the bull and you get the horns. I'm gonna teach these sorry bastards a lesson, because no one looks down on me.
A manic grin plastered to my face, I stare at the dark-haired shinigami from beneath furrowed brows. I outta tell him that this is his lucky day. I'm about to slug him in the face so damn hard that I'll be wearin' his head like a fuckin' sleeve. My chest is heaving and I know how crazed I must look, but I can't help it. There's a prickling all over my skin and I want his blood so bad that I can fucking taste it. It smells strong and enticing and oh, so damn good... I'm starting to feel heady with eagerness, and the way he looks at me doesn't help any. His hairless brows are furrowed, pale lips open on a soft part, the cigarette knocked from his mouth. There's something flashing in his eyes that I can't put my finger on, but it looks like he's...challenging me. No, he's beggin' me. He fuckin' wants me to hit him. The sick little bastard... For the first time in my life, I actually hesitate. As much as I've been aching for this -- dying for it -- I just can't give him the satisfaction...
Or can I? Why the hell should I care, this is all about me. I don't give two fucks about his satisfaction, because right now sating this hunger is more important. I'm itching so bad that if I don't scratch it, I'll go even crazier than I already am. I can't let this opportunity pass me by. One word resounds in my head, making me growl low in my throat.
Kill kill kill.
But just when I'm about to do it -- slam my knuckles into his jaw -- there's a hand on my forearm and something sharp against my throat. The grip is like iron and I can't break free no matter how hard I struggle. I snarl in frustration and push back, knocking into something hard and solid behind me. I twist my arm and the hand finally lets go, then I shove the zanpakutou away from my throat. My chest is heaving violently as I spin around and bare my teeth, practically hissing at the shinigami behind me. It was Kira Izuru's hand that interrupted, but now he's just standing there, the look on his face calm and a little grave. The man beside him has a sixty-nine tattooed on his left cheek, his slanted eyes stern as he stares at me. I recognize him instantly -- he's one of the two shinigami that caught me when I broke out. Him being here makes my blood surge and I feel even hungrier than I did before. I grin so wide that my mask splits in two, and I crack my knuckles as I stalk towards him.
"That's more like it, shinigami! Show me what you got!" I shout, barking a laugh.
Kira Izuru steps between us, and normally I'd be pissed at him for getting in my way, but right now I'm too riled up to care. His hand curls around the hilt of his zanpakutou and he takes on a fighter's stance, brows furrowed as he says, "Grimmjow, you will regret this."
"HA! Are you fucking kidding me?! This is what I've been waiting for!"
The shock of being on my knees a second later is like being sucker-punched in the gut. My body is so rigid that I feel like my spine's gonna break in half, and I make a strangled sound between gritted teeth. It feels like every muscle inside me has seized, and when I try to move painful shocks of electricity shoot through me. I gasp and pant against the strain, until finally I'm hollowing, the sound piercing even to my own ears. When I'm not being jolted by stabbing currents of agony, I feel like there's something heavy trying to smother me; trying to force me to the floor. My eyes flutter a little, exhaustion steadily creeping in with the effort of staying upright.
"Kurotsuchi-taichou told me earlier that there were some adjustments made...to the collar, that is."
At the sound of that voice I turn my head, ignoring the pain that comes with it. Akon is standing by Kira Izuru, now. My vision is a little blurry, but I'm able to make out the soft frown on his face, and the way his eyes are downcast. He's looking at something round in his palm -- like a small half circle -- and he hands it to the blond shinigami. Kira looks a little stupefied, but he takes the object and stares at it for a moment before pressing his thumb to the flat surface. The pain and heaviness fades away instantly, and I sag forward while gasping for air. It takes me a moment to catch my breath, and by then the other four shinigami I saw in the bathroom have joined the three clustered around me. Now there's seven sets of eyes staring at my crouched body. Their expressions vary but right now I couldn't give a fuck. I snarl at all of them and start to push myself to a stand, trying my hardest not to stumble. When I'm finally on my feet I roll my shoulders, then bite back a wince at the sharp ache in those muscles. I straighten to my full fight and look at the shinigami boldly, the fury in my eyes cloaked by a silent "Come on, I fucking dare you."
"I'll kill all of you," I growl, my tone dangerously low; so low that it's barely audible. I run my gaze over them, and I can't help it when my eyes are drawn to the horned shinigami. My teeth grind together and my fingers flex in and out of a fist. It's taking all my willpower not to walk over there and tell him to go fuck himself before I snap his neck. With a loud, hiss-like snarl, I spin around and stalk away. Behind me I hear a sword about to be drawn, and then Kira Izuru's calm voice.
"Let him go."
I get about as far away as I can, stealthy as a cat roaming deserted alleyways. I avoid the other shinigami lurking between each division like the fucking plague, and for obvious reasons. After about half an hour I find this old, abandoned building, up on a hill with rubble scattered around it. I sit down on the wooden steps of the porch and spread my legs wide, arms resting on my knees as I glare at the ground.
I've been pissed off ever since I got taken out of Hueco Mundo. Hell, I've been pissed off for as long as I can remember, but this time it's reached an entirely new level. I'm so fuckin' sick of being pushed around by these damned shinigami. Before all this it was mainly Kurosaki I was interested in, but now I'd like to kill every single one of 'em. Cero their heads right off their shoulders; rip their innards out and strangle them with their own intestines.
Why am I so angry? Two reasons. First of all, those shit-head shinigami talking about me like I wasn't there, and then calling me an it. I don't know who the hell that horned freak thinks he is, but one of these days it's gonna be me that gets the last laugh. No one looks down on me and gets away with it. I plan on making him pay. Hell, I'm gonna make all of them pay.
Secondly, my fight got interrupted. Twice. It seems like my whole fucking life, people have been getting in my way. First Tousen, then Ulquiorra, and now these Soul Society pricks. I'm telling you, if one more person ruins my fun I'm gonna go apeshit. There's gonna be a lot of people getting beat to death with their own limbs. I never get in their way, they shouldn't get in mine. Have some goddamn consideration, for fuck sake. What kind of selfish asshole interferes with another person's fight? Assholes in black robes, that's who. Ulquiorra was an Arrancar, but he might as well have been a shinigami with that kiss-ass attitude of his.
As I sit here brooding, trying to burn a hole in the ground with my scowl, I get this gnawing in my gut. It's like it's trying to tell me that I'm furious for more than I'm letting on. But I refuse to listen to it, let alone accept it. So fucking what if the person that did that to me was Akon. He's just another shit-faced, limp-dick shinigami. I never expected anything better outta him. What does piss me off, though, is the fact that he ever started bothering me to began with. Why the hell did he come to my fucking room, show me how to fucking smoke, fucking talk to me, if he was gonna pull a stunt like that? I feel bile in the back of my throat when I realize that this is the sting of betrayal. But you can't feel betrayed if you don't put your trust in someone, and like I ever put any kind of trust in that stupid fuck.
Growling, I stand up abruptly and tear off the top of my uniform. I rip it in two before tossing it away, then turn and slam my fist into one of the wooden pillars connecting the roof to the porch. I keep on punching, the sound of wood splintering loud in my ears, the feel of blood running down my fingers warm on my skin. I don't stop until I'm hitting air, having successfully severed the wooden column in two. I stare at it between furrowed brows, and bring my hand to my mouth so I can lick the blood from my knuckles. My chest is heaving a little from the exertion, and it makes me feel good. My skin is damp with sweat and that makes me feel good too. Now if only it was a shinigami's blood on my knuckles instead of my own, everything would be perfect.
And it's in that precise moment that I sense something behind me, making me jerk around. I was expecting him to be a coward and approach me slowly, but instead he flash-steps so he's right in front of me. There can't be more than two feet between us, and him being so close pulls a roar from my throat. I lash out immediately, my left fist swinging forward to catch him in the jaw. He blocks me easily and there's a small frown on his face.
"Wait, Gri--"
He doesn't get to finish when my other hand catches him square in the face. The sound of his flesh connecting with my fist is like music to my ears, and the way he looks when he staggers back is even better. All of it makes me want to hurt him even more, and my hands shape into claws as I advance. I'm ready to break every bone in his body, but he shunpos out of reach, reappearing under the porch. There's a good twenty feet between us, now, and I stare at him as he looks at me with lazy eyes, his hand coming up to wipe under his nose. He smears blood over his cheek, and the color is bright against his skin. It gives me a sense of satisfaction.
"You're angry," he says, his voice low and matter-of-fact.
"No shit," I bark back. The top of his uniform is still open from earlier, but now he has his arms through the sleeves. All that naked, scar-less skin makes me want to rip him open and snap his ribs with my bare hands before clawing out his heart.
"What did you expect me to do? I couldn't let you fight them."
"It was none of your fucking business!! Stay out of my way, or next time I'll paint this whole damn city with your insides!"
"Next time it'll be your insides, Grimmjow," Akon replies, his tone colder than before. He furrows his brows at me and takes a few steps closer. "I guess I spoke too soon when I said you weren't as stupid as you look. Do you know what would happen if you attacked two captains? They'd kill you. Either they'd kill you on the spot, or you'd be taken into custody and executed later on. You're on a short enough leash as it is, don't be reckless on top of it."
A deep rumble resounds in my chest, turning itself into a snarl as it works its way up my throat. I stalk over to the other man and glare down at him, my jaw clenching. "I'd rather be dead than live my life on any fucking leash, no matter how short or long it is. I had to put up with Aizen's shit for too long, I'm not gonna let anyone else control me. I don't bow down to anyone!"
The horned shinigami just frowns at me dryly, his hairless brow smoothing out. Blood is still seeping from his nose, and it stains his upper lip a darker red than it really is. "You want to get that off, don't you?" he asks me, pointing at the collar around my throat. My brow twitches a little and I narrow my eyes as I continue to stare at him.
"You want to get that off and find that Kurosaki kid? Well you can't do either of those when you're dead."
Hissing softly, I fight the urge to turn away and storm off. "Why the fuck would you care, huh? Just go back to that hellhole you call home and tinker with some other hopeless fuck you found in Hueco Mundo. I never asked for your damn opinion, and you lurking around me is starting to piss me off!"
Akon's mouth twitches a little, like it wants to frown even more but he won't let it. He tilts his head away and sighs softly, before moving to stand by the pillar opposite the one I destroyed. "I don't care," he mumbles. I can see the side of his face and the way his eyes droop, his gaze on something far away as he reaches into his pocket. "I just thought I'd...remind you, that's all."
I watch him silently as he brings a cigarette to his mouth. He's holding the lighter from the other day, and he cups his hand over the cigarette as he lights it. When it's lit he closes his eyes, pinching the white stick between his fingers as he inhales deeply. I watch his cheeks hollow and imagine the smoke diving down his throat and swirling inside his chest. Then he's exhaling loudly so there's a plume of smoke floating in front of his face.
Grimacing, I mumble to myself under my breath, then sit down on the top step. I scratch a finger over my jaw, then cross my arms over my bare chest. I stare straight ahead and try to ignore the other man's presence, but something I can't ignore is what he said. I want to deny any point he had, but it's damn hard. That puts a scowl on my face, which only deepens when I feel something fall into my lap. I give a little twitch and glance down, at something small, blue, and rectangular. I grunt loudly and pick the object up so I can see it better.
"The fuck is this?"
"It's a lighter."
Akon sounds closer than he did before, so I glance in his direction. He's standing about a foot away on my right side; a little behind me. He looks me in the face but it's only for a second. Then his gaze darts back to the lighter, and he shrugs his shoulders like he can't be bothered. "I had it lying around. I figured you should have one so you could smoke the cigarettes I gave you."
For some reason that has a frown tugging at my lips. I turn my head away so I can't see the other man, and steal one more glance at the lighter before tossing it aside.
"I don't want it. You're stupid to smoke that shit."
He really is stupid to smoke that shit. I thought it'd be something that tasted good, or at least something that felt good. Why else would he have one between his lips nearly every time I saw him? To say it was like running head-first into a brick wall when I finally tried it would be an understatement. It had to be one of the worst things that's ever been in my mouth, and it felt even worse when it got inside of me. I don't have any interest in that sorta thing. At first I was curious because I'd never seen smoke coming outta someone's nose and mouth. It was like he swallowed a ball of fire and it was burning up inside of him. It sure as hell felt that way when I was puffing on one of those things. Burned my throat like a bitch, and then I got this weird feeling deep in my gut, like hot coals were sitting in there. Remembering it makes the hair on my arms stand on end, my skin getting all itchy. Yea, like hell I'd ever try that again.
"I told you that you'd probably like it once you got used to it. But that's fine, it's your decision."
I can't see Akon, but I've a feeling that right about now he's shrugging his shoulders like he always does. I feel his footsteps and hear the swish of his uniform as he walks past me, and the tone of his voice sounded weirdly calm when he spoke. I realize in that moment that he reminds me of someone I used to know: Ulquiorra Schiffer. They both have that same stoic, calm-enough-to-drive-you-crazy attitude. Not to mention their curiosity. Ulquiorra would never admit it, but he was so damn curious about that stupid bitch that it made me sick. Always asking her questions, always wanting to figure out what made her different from us. And here this guy is, some kind of scientist, studying things. Studying me. I've never had anyone study me before, and I don't like it. It's just another way that he looks down on me. He called me a fucking it, like I'm just some thing to him; some lab rat. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that dealing with him is like dealing with Ulquiorra. Which is no good, because that dipshit pissed me off more than anyone else.
As I contemplate all of this, the horned shinigami walks farther away, then stops when there's about ten feet between us. My eyes are on him and he takes one final drag, before dropping the cigarette on the ground and crushing it under his foot. There's smoke all around his face when he exhales, and he turns his head just a little, so the only thing I see is one eye and half of his mouth. It's pulled up faintly, into a small, barely there smirk. It's that gesture alone that sets him apart from guys like Ulquiorra. I don't think I ever saw the other Arrancar smile. It was either a look of total indifference, or a small frown. He might as well have been a statue for all it mattered. Maybe that's why he was so interested in that woman. She had something he didn't....
And maybe that's why I've put up with Akon for as long as I have, I suddenly realize. He reminds me of the green-eyed Espada, but at the same time he's capable of things that Ulquiorra never was. The small smiles, the tiny grins, the way his eyebrows go up when he's taken off guard. And there's also that weird, sarcastic sense of humor, something else that the Cuatro Espada never had...
It's thinking about that stuff that gets me scowling a little, because right now the look on his face is a ghost of what it normally is. The smile he's put on looks more strained; less spirited. I find myself wishing for something more, something brighter, and I even miss his wry remarks. Wait, what? I didn't just think that I missed something. I never miss anything, except for a good beat down. And I especially don't miss anything from this annoying fucker who stabbed me in the back.
"Sorry for getting in your way, Jaegerjaquez. It won't happen again."
His voice jars me from my thoughts, making my brows shoot up. I look up at the other man but he's already gone, giving me zero time to react. I stare at the empty space where he was for a long moment, then grunt loudly and shake my head. Damn right it wouldn't happen again. I'd say he's finally caught the hint. It fucking took him long enough, the stupid prick. I was sick of him being around, stinking of smoke. I was sick of his stupid smirks and smartass comments.
So why is there a frown on my face and a sinking feeling in my gut? Glaring defiantly, I jerk my head away and look off to the side. When I see the blue lighter laying rejected in the grass, my frown deepens.
Part Six →
