• BOOK 1 OF THE ESZTAR SERIES •
Reaching upstairs, he hurled me inside his room and closed the door harshly. I stood there shaking with fear. He looked scary. Extremely scary.
He tilted his head, forming an evil grin on his face. I couldn't move. I...
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I kept starting at the door like an idiot for what felt like hours. I felt stupid to feel lonely and scared in his absence while the reality was that he was the one I should be afraid of.
And I was.
I really was.
I shook my head as if doing so will shake off all that happened today. I'm glad that I no longer had to be a hostage in a house filled with mafias and that I won't be seeing them ever again.
Dragging my ultra tired and bruised body up to my room, I got changed into a pair of black pyjama shorts and grey tank top.
Grey.
It reminded me of his eyes. His scent still lingered on my skin from his shirt that I was wearing. It's like he was gone but he hadn't left me.
My brain working this way terrified me. Flinging him out of my head, I walked up to my bed and that's when I saw something placed under the duvet.
A painting. Mason's painting.
I knew what that meant.
A much needed relief washed over me. I'll have to wait. I'll have to be patient.
But what worried me was the contents of the painting. This isn't like the rest of his paintings. Power and destruction emitted in invisible pessimistic rays. I didn't feel like even touching it but I know I'd need it.
A loud thud of the main door closing caused me to drop the painting on the bed. I quickly made my way downstairs, slightly irritated.
"Couldn't stay away from me, Mr Grayson?"
He emerged from the kitchen, holding a dagger in his hand, ready to stab me with it.
"Oops! You're not Mr Grayson." I shot the intruder the sweetest smile and projected my favorite penguin statuette Elvis straight at him.
Thank you reflexes.
I was quick in my action. He didn't see that coming. My penguin attacked him straight on the head, breaking down into pieces.
Two minutes silence for Elvis.
Being a kickass soldier that he was, Elvis managed to drop the dagger from the man's hand. But that didn't look good. He looked like a wounded beast ready to destroy me.
He lunged at me in a split second and grabbed my waist in a rough grip. I used my nails to scratch his face. That worked. But my victory was short lived. He heaved me towards the bookshelf, a few books toppling down at the impact.
"What do you want? Don't you see we're poor? Do your homework Mr Thief!" I groaned.
