2 Sharp

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• Destined •

“Why are you so smart?”

“It doesn’t just come naturally, darling.” He caressed my hand with his own. “Years have aged my mind and carved it with wisdom. The pages I’ve read had only sharped those edges.”

“What’s with the suave?”

He grins confidently and pulls me in for a deep embrace. I could smell that signature cologne. The only one I’ve ever smelt on him. His solid body made my quiver at the knees. Being so close to him always made weaker than normal. Being held made it impossible to stand up.

His arms wrapped around my back couldn’t feel anymore safe and secure. Everything about him was just perfect in my eyes and no matter what he did, it seems like my mind can’t think differently from kindness.

“I genuinely just want to keep you safe. If I do anything, it is only to make sure of that.” He squeezed a little bit tighter. Not enough to constrict my breathing.

“I know.”

“Just remember that. If I do something that seems ordinarily stupid or hurtful, it isn’t to spit you for cause you harm. In the long run, it’s to only keep you safe as possible in the most strategic way possible.”

“Thanks for the warning. Could have been used when we first met.” I smiled into his chest and could hear his genuine laughter. Using minimal amount of air from his lungs.

“What’s with the sarcasm.” He swayed our bodies side to side so gently.

“You’re allowing me to get comfortable and you may start to regret it.” I continued to smile.

The arms gripped harder and picked me up off the ground. Leading me to the bed and dropping down as my legs touch the side of it.

As I fell, his arms weren’t far behind to settle on each side of my body. Hovering his body over my own. His sexy intense face seemed welcoming, longing for me to continue my sad attempt at sarcastically flirting. Even though it seemed to be working.

“I don’t think I will, regret it.”

His fresh breath forced into my face. Leaving me to wanting to taste it. For a vampire, he had really fresh breath. For anyone I’ve ever met, by far the freshest breath I’ve smelt. All it made me think about was kissing him enough to get inside his mouth. It seemed incredible disgusting and wrong to think about yet, I wanted to explore that new part of kissing.

His head dove down to mine and he began kissing. Doing the exact thing I wanted. His soft fresh tongue was entering my own and it only felt natural and less weird than it really was. My arms automatically dove to his neck to bring him in closer to me. Making his body lay on top of mine.

His knees straddled over my centered legs against the bed, giving him enough balance to keep his feet on the ground and his genital area away from my body. Which only made me want to bring him in closer. I couldn’t help but think about what it felt to have the particular part of his body against mine. Yet, I didn’t want things to escalate faster than it needed too. Especially considering it was my first time French kissing, which I was heavily enjoyed.

His elbows were laying against both of my arms and hands were so close to my head. One of the hands was caressing a lock of my black hair within it, then gently tugging it. Almost trying to force me to make a move or give him another green light.

He separated our lips and stared deeply into my eyes.

“I will only be comfortable with whatever makes you comfortable.” He grinned and began to lay next to me towards the head of the bed. Considering the other way would have led him to minimal room or ending up off the bed itself. “If you are ever uncomfortable with whatever I’m doing, need to let me know. Okay?”

“I will.”

“I’m serious.”

I nodded my head. Depending on the circumstance, it may be easier or difficult to stand up on my comfort.

All of sudden his hand ran up my legs and headed for my vaginal area. Even though it felt good and I didn’t want him to stop. It was not the right time at all.

I grabbed his hand and at that moment he smile.

“Even if you don’t say it, using body language to say stop will be understood as well.” He pushed his head to mine to give me a sweet peck and got up from the bed.

If all men were as gentle as he was, women would fear men like they do in this day in age. His willingness to give me space when needed and allow me a say in what does and doesn’t happen to my body was such a winning characteristic. Even when he didn’t allow a say in matters involving my very safety, he wasn’t going to force me to decide something that wasn’t yet for me decide.

He reached his hand out and I grabbed it, pulling me off the bed. He shrugged his head to the bed.

“Grab the book. Read about your family. About the gift. I shouldn’t stand in the way of that. I do want to add that the book that we were reading is important too. The things that Anxillion talks about, a lot of it is straight from your grandmother. She told Anxillion certain things for you to know.” His face would quickly break if he talked about Anxillion anymore.

“I’ll be in the basement to tell Tiffany to kill Misty now. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Wait, you still haven’t killed her?”

“No. She wanted to kick you in the ribs and she was then destined to feel the agonizing pain as well. Over, and over. Tiffany has been having fun with it but I think it’s fine to end her suffering now.”

“Thank you. It wasn’t necessary to go to that extreme lengths.” I added.

“It was necessary. Now it it’s just useless.”

“Oh.” I reach over the bed and grab the book gently trying not to disrupt its fragile cover. “I guess I’ll just be here.”

Tony smiled and headed out of his bedroom.

As I held the book in my palms. The book felt different on my hands than any other book. As if there was magic residing within the fibers of the cover. The feeling felt foreign and almost imaginary.

Opening the cover didn’t stop the enticing feeling and leaving me to dive deep into the book. Upon opening, the language wasn’t legible to me. All I knew was English and a smear of Spanish. This misshapen language was the only thing to stop me from reading it. Making me feel defeated.

How was Tony able to read this? I flip more pages gently to see if the language was consistent and it was. Nothing of it held a lick of English. I close it and just abandon trying to even understand the language until Tony came back. Would he have known that I couldn’t read it? To leave me depending on his to know my own ancestral magic.

All I know is the feeling this book was giving me. It was a calming sense and it made me not want to let go of the book. As if it were destined to be in my possession and never escape.

Even though I couldn’t read anything inside, the book itself was creating and bond with me by its very touch. None of which I understood. It didn’t feel normal but yet I could understand what it was doing.

I closed my eyes and focused on my hands. As if I were trained to do so by the book.

As I focused, I could feel my body numb. The numbness scattered everywhere through my hungry body. My hands were the only objects I could identify and recognize the weight of the book in them.

Every mythical and fantasy book I read haven’t prepared me for everything that has happened in the past few weeks, yet it gave me an open mind to how unknown the world can be.

This very process with me and the book seemed so strange yet accurate. As if someone was teaching me or have taught me what to do. Even though none of that was or had happened.

I feared what Tony would see when he would enter back into the room. Would I look like a lunatic?

My hands continued to reach further into the strange magic as my eyes continued to close. The focus began to be intoxicating. Making the room start to spin and my mind becoming shadowy. As if I were in an alternate reality. Traveling to a different side of the world that seemed nonexistent.

I could hear the door begin to open and a sudden rush came to me as I opened my eyes. The intoxicating feeling dissipated and leaving me with the simple connection I felt by just holding the book.

“Any luck?” He said as he walked in.

“What language is this book written in?” I asked him quickly.

His eyes squinted. “Umm, English.”

He walked over to me on the bed and set beside me.

“Open it.” I did as he said and he looked completely confused.

“Hold on, why does that look completely different than from what I saw.” Baffled he stretched his arms for the book and I had to let go with every ounce of power in me. The connection between my hands and the book felt maternal. Yet I couldn’t tell him that so I needed to let go to play against it.

As I let go and hand over the book, the pages shifted to English. Reassuring me that the book was in fact laced with incredible magic. Scary but comforting that I knew of the existence.

“Woah. I didn’t know it did that.” Tony spoke out. I was oddly quiet and Tony looked at me as he noticed. “Are you okay, you look kind of green.”

“This is just a lot happening so soon. I’m also pretty hungry. You have anything here that I could eat.” I could feel my body want to faint.

“Yeah. I’ll call Tiffany to make you something real quick.” He quickly dove into his pocket for his phone.

When he did that I couldn’t help but stare at the book that was laying on the bed alone. Making me only think about grabbing the book, like I was some drug addict to heroine. I could tell this nauseous feeling wasn’t going to go away from mere food. The book wanted to be placed back in my hands so badly that it made me ill when I let go prematurely.

“She’ll be up with a sandwich and a soda in a few minutes. Do you need to use the restroom?” I continued to stare at the book.

“Yeah.” I shook my head and adjusted my eyes to the closed bathroom door. I got up without a hesitation as the sickness continued. As I travelled to the bathroom I could feel myself start to struggle to walk.

Tony rushed to my side in light speed and held me to the bathroom. “I’ll help you to the bathroom.”

“No. No, just place me back on the bed.”


As he did, I reached for the book immediately to dissolve this disgusting feeling. Just a simple touch of my finger sent complete relief. I did my best to make it seem like an accident touching the book but Tony saw how my face seemed relieved.

“Did the book make you sick when you let go of it?” He was concerned.

“I’m not sure.” The tips of my fingers continued to touch the fragile book, begging to not let go. “Is that even possible?”
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