Chapter 7 My Fierce Little Kitten
I kept my distance away from her, making sure to board the flight and getting into my business class suite quietly. I didn’t speak to her. I Didn’t even look her way when I passed. Not yet... I didn’t want to spook her.
Obviously, my fierce little kitten has a fragile side, and I did not want to make her any more emotional than she had been today. My mid snapped back to the boarding lady that had made her cry. I know I am being unreasonable if I get her fired, but then, she hurt my kitten.
We sat on the plane, separated by just a thin blind, but I didn’t approach her. I spent the flight back to New York combing through the final details of my mole problem, but I could feel her there. Every breath. Every movement.
When we landed, she rushed off the plane like her life depended on it. I barely had time to blink before she disappeared. I didn’t even know if fate wanted me to meet the damn girl.
Maybe I wasn’t meant to meet her again. Maybe fate was fucking with me.
I ran a hand over my face, then noticed the book wedged in her seat. She must've left it when she rushed out.
I picked it up, struggling with my instincts to go out and find her even if it meant making every security personelle look for her. I wonder how she would feel if she heard her name being called out loud from the airport speakers calling and demanding her to come back. Back to me...
But she was in a rush, obviously, and I also had to stay in the shadows a little longer.
My entourage was already waiting at the entrance of the airport. Thirty of my men were already split in formation, creating an aile for me to walk through all the way into my car, all of them in crisp black suits, matching ties, a.d emotionless faces. It was perfect. Flawless intimidation.
Once inside the car, I opened the book.
Claimed By Azaziel.
Cheesy title. Of course, she would read books like this. It was definitely written by a woman.
I turned the book around in my hand and flipped to the author photo. Shit. It was her. My girls photo was sitting proudly on the author page. A large amount of pride filled my chest.
She was a writer, an author
I filled through the pages and dove into her world instantly. Her book was... something. She spun a story so raw, so intimate, it gutted me.
A story about a demon and a girl.
A woman who didn’t run from his shadows. Who loved him through the fire and the rot. Who didn’t just survive him but grew stronger beside him.
Was that how she thought?
Did she really believe it was possible to love something so dark, a demon at that?
I laughed to myself, low and breathless. She really was perfect. She wasn't scared of demons. She wrote about them, she saw that demons could be loved. That I, could be loved, and just like that, she was mine.
I knew it deep inside me, I was about to do something bad. I was about to cross lines I shouldn’t cross, but I didn’t care.
Because I was obsessed.
I was addicted, and he would gladly cross every single line if it means making this girl mine, even if i would have to bend and break her. She was mine. I will find her, and I will keep her.
I closed the book and leaned back in the seat, staring out the window as the city blurred past. I didn’t need to think long. I already knew what I was going to do.
Jeffery’s voice came through my phone when I called him. He was riding in one of the other cars in the convoy, doing his job as my second.
“I wasn’t going to ask..." he began immediately he picked up.
"Then don't,"
"You sat beside her, boss. But you cane out of that airport alone. She a problem?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “She’s a person.”
He went quiet for a second. “That doesn’t answer my question, boss.”
“She’s a writer,” I said. “I need everything. Legal name. Address. School. Online presence. Anything she’s ever posted.”
There was a pause. Then, a low chuckle. “You’re serious this time?”
“I’m always serious.”
“You know this isn’t hard, right?” he said. “People like her leave trails everywhere.”
“I know,” I said. “That’s why I want you to do it. I dont want to spook her yet. My little kitten may write about demons, but she still hasn't met me yet... I'm much worse than a demon.”
He sighed. “Give me two weeks.”
“You won’t need that long, Jeffery.”
“I’ll call when I have something, boss. And biss, congratulations” he hung up before I could throw some choice words at him.
I looked down at the book in my hands. Her words were still sitting in my chest, heavily. She had left herself behind without knowing it. People always did.
I didn’t feel rushed. I didn’t feel anxious. I already knew how this would end. I was going to find her.
ONE WEEK LATER.
I found her. It really didnt take long for me to know everything about her, down to her favourite cereal.
Love wasn’t something I could feel or relate to, but obsession, hot, all-consuming obsession...that one, I could feel perfectly.
I wanted to hold her close, to break her, to make her mine, to fill her with me until I was all she saw and felt. But I couldn’t go to her yet. She wasn’t ready.
I was okay just imagining that somewhere out there was someone who could understand me, someone who really knew me.
She wrote the demon’s point of view with a depth that only someone who understood could pull off. The way she saw the good in Azaziel, gave him an arc and made sense of all the crazy, bloody, and unhinged things he did gave me hope.
Hope that she would fit perfectly right beside me, as the queen of my bloody empire.