Chapter 99 Kiss me.

Chapter 99 Kiss me.
Monroe.

I had never shifted that fast in my life.

“A… are you… o… okay?” I asked, my chest heaving like I was the sick one.

He nodded, but it was obvious he was not okay.

I observed him.

He tried to steady his breath, but ended up losing strength in his legs.

His knees buckled, and all I could do at that moment was stretch my hand towards him, holding his large frame steady with what little strength I had.

“You really need to go to the hospital.”

He shook his head, forcing himself to stay upright.

I noticed something.

The moment my hands came in contact with his body, he felt so cold. Almost like the chill of a dead man. But holding him like that made his body begin to heat up again. To the weird warmth it usually had.

That was confusing, to say the least.

I led him to a bench in the cathedral and let him sit.

“Fever?” I asked, even though I knew that could never be fever.

I released him and folded my hands together, observing him.

His breathing, which had steadied before, began to grow frantic again. I drew closer to him, sitting beside him and placing my palm on his shoulder.

Like I suspected, his shoulder had gotten very cold. I could feel it through his clothes.

He sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

I understood he must have been burdened.

Was this what he passed through every night?

The other night was more painful, but that didn't excuse the fact that he must have been suffering for so long.

What was this feeling in my chest?

Seeing him so… defeated sent a jolt of protectiveness through me.

But why?

Was it because he saved me twice?

Or because… like he said… we must have known each other before.

But I can't remember seeing him.

Was he a local from the community I lived in?

That might be it. He brought flowers to me the other day like it was something he usually did.

But why couldn't I remember him?

“Why did you save me?”

His breathing had gotten a lot better.

“I wanted to.”

His voice was not the same relaxed baritone. It had a strain to it and, not to be weird or anything, but that was oddly attractive.

I hadn't noticed it earlier, but his scent was spilling into my very being.

I couldn't place my hand on what his cologne smelled like, but it was a mixture of mint, lavender and fine wood.

Fuck!

He knew his way around perfumes, if you must ask me.

“I don't need you buying me things… I don't know how to pay you back.”

“You've saved me twice and, by right, I should be the one getting you things, not the other way round.”

The sweat on his forehead glistened under the peaks of light in the building.

He smiled. A small smile that made me stare at his lips for longer than necessary.

He reached for the flowers, pulling out a stem.

“Here. Take this.”

I did, releasing his shoulder and collecting the stem.

“Give it to me.”

I stretched my hand out as directed.

He carefully collected the flower, had a sniff and smiled again.

“There. You've repaid me.”

What a silly person.

“That's not the same.”

He laughed. His canines were polished like he took his time taking care of every part of his body.

I wondered why he was so… perfect.

Then he began to cough.

I forgot about the whole hand thing and hurried to put my hand on his shoulder, but he moved away.

Getting to his feet in one quick motion and backing away like I was something hot.

My palm was left hanging in the air. My mouth slightly parted.

“You… you don't need to see this.”

He backed away further.

Then he coughed out blood, the dark of his blood staining the brown benches in the church.

I stared at it.

The first emotion to cross my face was shock.

Then horror.

Then fear.

Was he dying?

No.

He can't be.

I just got to know him and… and… I feel…

“Careful. Let me help you.”

I sprang to my feet, closing in on him, but then my feet stopped.

My eyes dropped to his hands.

Claws were protruding from his fingers.

Fangs from his mouth.

The red in his eyes blazed bright as he backed away like I was a monster.

I stood frozen.

Unable to process the rollercoaster of emotions welling in me.

What was happening?

“Just… stay away.”

I would… but I couldn't move.

It seemed like I was glued to the floor.

But of everything that was happening at that moment, what scared me the most was the fact that I wasn't scared.

It may be I was, but not as much as I should be.

I should shout and bolt out the door.

I should scream monster while at it.

But the fear that enveloped me was not for him, but for whatever was making him become like that.

I was always a curious child, and I was always told that curiosity led the cat to the grave.

Was curiosity going to lead me to the grave as well?

My legs finally found themselves and moved.

One step at a time.

Each one screaming for me to run in the opposite direction.

But I protested against common sense vehemently.

Moving towards him.

Slow.

He was wrecked, but his gaze never left mine.

A howl tore through his throat, the animalistic sound stirring something in me to respond.

He tried inching backwards until his back slammed against a wall.

I swallowed the thrill of cornering a creature like him.

“It's okay.”

The words bled through my lips. I wondered who I was trying to console.

Maybe both of us.

“It'll pass.”

His howls and growls died into a pleading whimper.

As if to say: don't come closer… I beg of you.

But Monroe has never been one to heed commands.

So I walked until I was in his space.

Inches away from him.

I closed the distance.

He looked at me, trembling from the torture of whatever he was passing through.

If only I could make it stop.

His frantic breathing was the only sound in the cathedral.

I raised my hands slowly.

Ever so slowly.

Like I was trying to tame something.

Like if I raised them a little faster, he may vanish from my sight.

Then I placed both my palms on his cheeks, stroking his face with my thumbs.

“It's okay. The pain will die down.”

His breathing gradually dropped into a rhythmic movement, with his chest heaving.

He closed his eyes, reveling in the warmth I provided for his cold body.

Slowly, he began to look at peace again.

The moment his eyes opened again, they had already gone back to their original dark in the darkness.

“Zyle.”

I called out for the first time since I heard his name back at school.

I didn't miss the way his body jolted slightly at the sound of my voice.

He searched my eyes, desperately looking for something.

I wondered what he was searching for.

“I'm here… Zyle.”

As cliché as I sounded, I knew that was what he needed at the time.

My eyes fell to his lips.

I wonder what they tasted like.

Did they taste like the lavender he smelled of?

Was it the slight mint?

Or was it wine?

“Zyle… kiss me.”