You and me could write a bad romance.
#19
She twisted away from him and his hands returned to his sides but were balled up into fists. He wanted to kill the person who'd touched her. Not because he thought scars were ugly, no, but more because he'd found himself slowly growing more and more attached to the woman before him. As she explained herself however Fang wasn't convinced. He blinked uncertainly at the shirt that protected her wounds from being seen by his ebony eyes. Was that what really had happened?

Shaking his head a bit he returned his look up at her face and said, "Well if it was someone I'd be happy to strike back. A satisfying murder is right up my alley." A sly, mischevious grin crossed his face and a bit of darkness came into his already dim eyes. He loved murder and rape and pain. And doing it for Amy? Well what more could he ask for? Slowly he stepped back towards her and lifted her chin up toward him. His voice dropping, he smirked into her eyes. It took him a moment to remember what he had intended to say so he gathered his words and whispered quietly, "And I might add it is no fair for you to be so pretty when you're healing from battle wounds."

Then he lowered his mouth to her's and gave Amy a kiss. Was he whipped? No... He didn't think so. Was he falling for her? Maybe... but it would depend on how she reacted to him for some time. Yet was he starting to have a crush? Definitely. In fact he hadn't liked someone this much in ages.


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