I call him the devil because he makes me want to sin
He remembers her—although barely.
She had not been but a babe at the time, and he had been more focused on her adoptive mother, more focused on the glee he had felt remembering how Heartfire had felt beneath his hands—how she fought back. And then, well, he had pulled the threads of the Fear slightly too hard and she had reacted just as he had hoped she would, obliterating the land and creating a damn crater in the middle of the island.
A crater.
She was marvelous.
He’d break her some day.
But that’s not what he’s thinking about when he sees the ethereal girl picking her way through the isle. His black eyes brighten with interest but his face remains carefully neutral. She had grown up too fast, he thinks, wondering at what magic must brew in her veins. But, in the end, he doesn’t really care—not really. All he sees is a new project, a new toy, a new something for him to break beneath his palms.
And if that caused auxiliary damage to Heartfire in the process, then all the better.
She apologizes and his lips quirk in the corner. “It’s no problem.” He’s almost dismissive, not entirely curt but not paying special interest. That part was easy for him. He had never been one drawn in by the beauty of others. He didn’t hunger for the curves of a woman or the sweep of hair around her cheek. It never stirred anything in his belly. He only hungered for the way they looked when taken apart.
“It’s Bruise,” he answers, handsome face angling back to her, finally taking the time to study her. He takes his time, forcing himself to be deliberate, to let his gaze wander over the curves of her hips and then down her spine and then up to her face where they come to rest. There is no apology for the brazen look, just a shadow of a smile on his devilish face. “What brings you over to me today, Briella?”
(and every time he knocks, I can't help but let him in)
@[Briella]