Our Act's

Vulvan's pov

I held her gently in my arms, but the marks on her neck told a different story. Her neck, once red from my grasp, now looked pale and clammy. She tossed and turned, clearly restless. It was 5am, i couldn't tell if she was faking her sleep or actually sleeping.

As I stormed out of bed and into the bathroom, the events of the previous day replayed in my mind like a bitter reminder.

I visited the paint room every month. This was something I had been doing for a long time, and it had become a routine. But this particular visit was different from the others. My intention was not just to go through them but to actually paint something.

The reason I wanted to paint was because I had lost interest in my skills a long time ago. As a result, my monthly visits to the paint room had become more about longing than about creating something new. Usually, I would just spend time looking at my old paintings, remembering the good old days.

But then i had lost control when I saw Zara standing in the room, her presence igniting a fire within me. My temper had flared up, and I had come dangerously close to unleashing my full fury upon her. She had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I had no sympathy for her misfortune.

At the time, I had been mixing the paint I would use, my focus solely on the task at hand. But then I caught her scent, that unmistakable aroma that always seemed to precede her. I knew she was close, but I refused to acknowledge her presence until I saw her with my own eyes. And when I did, my anger boiled over.

the feeling to paint all went away, i just wanted to know what she was doing there at that point in time, i wanted nothing, but to hurt her so bad, and I lost control and went for her neck. i wanted to teach her a lesson she wasn't going to forget and i went too far, i didn't regrette what i did to her because i wasn't done with her to let her go that easily.

A part of me was against the harm I was causing her, and another part was filled with rage consuming my every move. but what was she doing in the room filled with my paintings.i held every memory in there very precious. It was the least things I wanted her to find out about.

No matter what happens, she mustn't find out who was on the painting.

.................................................................................................................................

As I stepped out of the bathroom, I was met with a startling sight. Zara stood frozen near the bed, her forehead glistening with sweat and her chest heaving. Her eyes were wide and startled, like a deer caught in headlights.

I approached her slowly, sensing something was off. Zara's gaze darted around the room, her pupils constricting as if searching for an escape route. She took a step back, her hands clenched into fists, and I could see the tension radiating from her body.

My curiosity grew, I took another step closer, my eyes locked on hers. Zara's face was a mask of alarm. Her lips parted slightly as if she was about to speak, but no words came out.

I searched Zara's face for any signs of distress. "What's wrong?" I asked softly.

She hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. "Nothing, just a nightmare."

I took her hands in mine, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Was I the cause of the nightmare?" I asked, catching her off guard.

Her eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, we just stared at each other, the air thick with unspoken emotions.

Zara broke the intense moment, avoiding my questions, then stepped aside to reveal a morning cup of coffee. "Erica brought it for you," she whispered, offering a faint smile.

I raised an eyebrow, finding it odd. I didn't usually drink coffee at this hour. Erica must have thought I needed it.

My attention returned to Zara, and I noticed the discomfort etched on her face every time she spoke. Her words seemed laced with a subtle pain, and I wondered how she felt.

I lightly placed my fingers on her neck, and she flinched, her body tensing for a moment before she relaxed, allowing me to touch her. Her eyes dropped, avoiding mine.

My gaze narrowed, concern etched on my face. "Does it hurt when you talk?" I asked, my voice soft.

She nodded, her eyes still cast down. I felt a pang in my chest. I gently grasped her chin and tilted her face up to mine. Her eyes slowly met mine.

My words hung in the air, unfinished, as I hesitated, a mask of regret and concern slipping onto my face. "You know I don't like hurting you i......"

her eyes locked onto mine, wide and vulnerable. Her whisper was barely audible. "I shouldn't have trespassed... so it's all my fault." she cut me off.

My expression remained stern, but my eyes betrayed a flicker of indifference. I raised an eyebrow, my voice low and even, but lacking any real emotion. "What if I had done something worse to you?"

Her voice dripped with bitterness, a glimmer of a tear welling up in her eyes. "I guess the ball is in your court, Vulvan. It's always been in your court."

I cupped her face, my thumbs tracing the curves of her cheeks. My eyes locked onto hers, pleading. "If I should go down on my knees and apologize, it won't change what I did..." My voice trailed off, and I pulled her close, my hands wrapping around her tiny waist.

Our noses touched, and I whispered, my breath dancing across her skin. "Let's start fresh. Just you and me. huh?" My words were laced with longing, my eyes burning with a desire to reconnect.

A faint smile danced on her lips as she whispered, "That will be nice." She tiptoed up to me, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, and pecked me on the lips. I grinned, feeling a rush of excitement.

As we stood there, our scents mingling, our faces inches apart, I sensed a spark of intimacy. But when she pulled away, her voice was laced with a playful detachment. "Now go drink your coffee before it gets cold."

I raised an eyebrow, my voice low and husky. "OK, if that's what makes you happy?" I asked, my eyes locked onto hers, searching for a glimmer of emotion. Her smile faltered for a moment before she recovered, but I caught the flicker of vulnerability.

I gulped the coffee, earning a laugh from her. "Happy?" I asked, smiling.

"I will be in my room now," she said, turning to leave. But I caught her hand, my fingers wrapping around her wrist. I pulled her back, my eyes locking onto hers, my voice low and seductive. "Why are you in such a hurry?" I whispered, my breath dancing across her skin.

Her eyes fluttered, her cheeks flushing as I drew her closer. My lips crashed onto hers, our kiss intense and passionate. I poured all my emotion into it, my hands wrapping around her waist, pulling her close. She tugged on my shirt, gasping for air, before I released her.

Her smirk was a mask, but her eyes betrayed a hint of unease. "Can I go to my room now, or do you still want to cut off my air supply?" I chuckled, but my mind was already racing. Something was off. Her body had responded to my touch, but her eyes told a different story.