Graze Her Heart

Chapter 2

His arms were still banded around her narrow waist.

Though his eyes had left hers, now scanning their surroundings, she watched him. He was alert. Like a hawk waiting for it's supper to appear.

He missed nothing. Those startling blue eyes took in every nook in the brick walls, every littered plastic shopping bag, every little pipe and drain jutting from the buildings they were sandwiched between.

She recognised that in herself.
Knew what it was like to breathe and wonder how many times she would get to do it again.

Feeling her curious stare, the boy glanced down to her.
Cocking his head to a side, he brushed away strands of hair that had fallen to her face.

His face revealed nothing to accompany his gentle touches.
She shivered again. A moment later, his jacket was off, and wrapped around her shoulders.

She opened her mouth to ask his name but closed it quickly.
She didn't know where she was.
She didn't know who he was.
She didn't know where he was taking her. What she did know was she wasn't running from someone who got her out of that hell hole. It also didn't mean she was going to to give her bleeding heart to him. She didn't trust him an inch of her life.

Nayara tugged his forearm when she saw him staring off into the distance. He was standing in front of her but he was miles, cities, countries, away.

His attention snapped back to her and he took two careful steps away from her. As if he was startled by the close proximity he had made. The cold that had subsided in his warmth flooded back.

He extended his hand and offered it to
her.
The girl took it hesitantly and he began pulling her back to the street, but strode slower, closer to her. Providing body heat.

They walked quietly for nearly half an hour when she heard a rough, deep voice. It's baritone vibrated straight through her core. Her quiet steps nearly faltered at the sound of him.

"What's your name?" He turned his sharp blue gaze on her.
She stopped walking, effectively making him halt as well.

She searched his eyes. Could she trust him? With the sound of her voice? With her name? With knowledge that could be wielded harsher than any blade?

"Greya," she stated carefully.

Her eyes held challenge. Daring him to use it against her.
He nodded once before towing her down the shadowed cobble once again.

Feet sore from walking for hours, they finally approached a large raised platform.

It was fairly empty, but there were a few people wandering about.
A middle aged man murmuring to his wife in harsh german.
A younger blonde man carrying a small rectangle device that had a screen he was poking at. A cellphone, she guessed.
There was a mother calling to her screeching children who were tagging each other around the platform Greya was now on.

She glanced around. A sign with bright neon letters spelled metro.
A metro was a type of train, she remembered.

She looked up to the boy clutching her hand to ask where he was taking them, her jaw almost unhinged.

He had taken off his mask and pulled the hood back. Somehow managing to slip off enough of his leather gear to make it look casual. Any weapons she knew he had, concealed. Wearing a long sleeved black tee and a thinner leather jacket, along with dark grey cargo pants and combat boots. Still donning his gloves.
All while holding her hand.Impossible.

Greya studied his face closely, he had stark ebony hair at the roots. It faded into a dyed ashy blonde, waterfalling down to his shoulders in messy waves.
She wondered if it felt as silky as it looked.

He had thick dark brows above familiar cerulean blue eyes.
His nose was sharp and straight. It had a silver ring through one side.

Perfect full lips and high, pale cheek bones. A few days' worth of stubble splayed across a jaw so sharp it could cut glass.

What should have made him look messy and unkempt, only served to make him even more ruggedly handsome.
She had been mistaken. This wasn't a boy. This was a man.

Realizing she was staring, she snapped her attention to the platform.
She heard a deep rumble. A chuckle she realised.
Greya rolled her eyes at his amusement in catching her gawking.

He pulled her toward a wooden bench. She sat stiffly.

Crossing his ankle over his thigh, he leaned back and stretched an arm on the back of bench behind Greya's shoulders.
The epitome of nonchalance. Like they didn't just travel for hours by foot.

Looking over her shoulder, she noticed designs in ink sprawled across the back of his hand. He had tattoos. They were intricate and detailed, but they weren't in any language she knew.

She glanced at him to see his blues running over everything around them. He wasn't as relaxed as he put off.
Interesting.

He must've felt her stare because he turned to her and arched a brow.

"Where are we going?" She faced the metro tracks, her underlying ceylonian accent shining slightly through her stronger german one.

"America," he answered in his own drawling western.

Her eyes flashed to his before returning to the rails before them.
"America," she repeated.

He hummed a confirmation, threading his fingers through a few stray strands of her long jet-black hair. She should smack his hand away. She didn't.

"Why?" She turned to him again.

"Later," he murmured, continuing to entangle his fingers in her hair. She tried not to explode into a million questions as they waited for the train to arrive.

Once boarded, they found their way to the very back, where a potbellied drunk was napping across two seats.
He pried open an eye to catcall Greya in slurred german before he glancing at her companion and immediately feigning sleep.

Greya sat by the rugged stranger leading her.
His knees were spread and his arms laid across the backs of the seats on either side of him. Taking up more room. Asserting dominance to the entire train car. All with a single casual action.

She had to crane her neck to look up at him. "What do I call you?"

He looked to her. "Call me anything you want sweetheart."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Your Majesty," he said with a completely straight face.

"I'd like your name smartass."

He chuckled at her, mumbling something under his breath.

"Yes?" She proded.

He studied her for a moment, his eyes searching hers, just as she had, before speaking again.
"Quin."