He's a backstabbing Amarian motherfucker! What am I thinking?
He’ll kill me if he knows what I am.
I swing my fist at him before he strongly grasps my wrist. I counter with my other fist to land the blow, but he stops that one too. It's so close to his cheek but can't move further.
“Easy,” he murmurs, with a soft gaze. “I only want to help.”
“To help?” It's not going to stop me from punching him.
“Yes. I'm sorry about the gun. I thought you were a dreamscreecher.”
“And what makes you think I'm not?”My stomach churns. Why the fuck would I ask that out of all questions?
The bastard smirks. “Well a dreamscreecher would've shifted and eaten me alive already. They wouldn't run and resort to punches.”
That's a stupid leap in logic. “You're saying I'm weak? Is that why you want to help?”
“No! You're injured. You got wounds all over you that look like they need stitches or something.”
He scans my black ripped apart shirt and jeans, as if he's really concerned about me. He's a good actor. I'll give him that.
But I'm not a fool. My father taught me better. “Why would you want to help me?”
His nose scrunches as if it's a ridiculous question. “Why wouldn't I? If I were in your shoes, I would want help. What kind of fool would I be to just let you stay out here bleeding in a dumpster all night?”
I quirk a brow. Does he…actuallywant to help? Is he telling the truth?
No matter how loving they are, never,and I mean never, trust an Amarian.
Father’s words echo in my head. I know his warning is true.
Does it still apply if he doesn't know that I'm a dreamscreecher?
Amias tilts his head. “Is helping others a foreign thing to you? Do you not do that in your own kingdom?”
“My own kingdom?”
“Well you have a slight accent. I don't recognize it though.”
I jerk my head in confusion. So he really doesn't know I'm a dreamscreecher.
He loosens his grip slightly. “So…if I let go of your wrists, can you promise you're not gonna punch me? And perhaps let me help?”
I hesitate. He doesn't know where I'm from, so I guess that means he doesn't think I'm a dreamscreecher.
He seems genuine for the moment and I do have wounds that need healing.
Maybe I should get help. With caution of course. “Fine. Just this once.”
He smiles before releasing my wrists. I pull them to my lap, refusing to keep my eyes off him. He isn't trying to trick me, is he?
I squint and observe his features. His sandy blonde hair is well kept. He's got a handsome jawline, not too sharp but not too soft.
My gaze falls to his chest that's just slightly exposed under that slightly unbuttoned shirt. So he's also…got a chest…
My cheeks must've been burned under Estrella's star. I shouldn't be checking him out. Now’s not the time for hookups!
“How did you get these wounds? They look pretty deep.” From the way he stares at me, it's almost like some sort of telepathy, telling me he really cares.
