18 Burning Desire

What an odd specimen, Leander thought. People don't get offended when they are told that they didn't try their best to die. Everyone has the inherent will to be alive.

Whether they live their life or not…that's another issue. But everyone wants to stay alive. Even he wants to stay alive.

Viviana wanted to stick something in that face for his arrogant attitude. "What do you know about me?" she seethed.

"I know enough," Leander smirked. He got a rise seeing her getting emotional.

The liveliness in her eyes was such a sight to behold!

"You had the knife and what did you do?" he asked.

His smile was lopsided, and he slightly cocked his head. And just like he predicted, the furrow between her brows eased. She was not angry anymore, but she contemplated something.

He knew she wanted to die. But he just wanted to tease her.

The smile on his face annoyed Viviana so much. She fisted her hands to balls not minding the pain from the needles. He was not wrong. She was so focused on dying and yet when she had the knife, she used it on him rather than doing what she planned to do.

"Yeah, my hate for you is much deeper," she smirked as she came to a conclusion after thinking for a moment. Her dark eyes focused on him trying to understand what he wants, just like he was observing her.

"I wanted to take you down before I went down, Kastello. Every single one of you. That's how much I hate you."

Leander's eyebrows trembled. The hatred in her eyes… It burned him.

"More than fulfilling the suicide pact you made with your "friends"? I think you secretly hated your "friends" and wanted them dead. Otherwise, why are they dead and you are still alive?" Leander spoke in a way to provoke her.

'They are all dead?'

Viviana was surprised although she should have expected it. She had prepared for it. Well, no. She was not prepared to hear about their death. She knew they will die. They didn't make a pact or anything of the sort. They didn't slice their palms with a knife and made a blood pact or anything.

But it was implied in the conversations they had.

They were all united in their strong belief that the Kastello family must be brought down. And she took on the riskiest job of castrating Evander. She wanted to. They discussed many alternatives, but they always came back to that only solution as it was relatively easier and more devastating. It made sense knowing who Evander is and how many women he had hurt.

Each had roles they had to fulfill, and she was the one who picked the knife. Evander liked wide-eyed young girls. She was the most suited. She won't do that again to anyone else. But she never will regret doing that. Evander is still alive, and she probably saved at least a hundred underage girls from losing their bodies and souls to that beast.

Hell is reserved for her. But she'd go there with a smile on her face and the satisfaction that she did good.

They all knew what will happen once they successfully enact their vengeance. The guardian beast will come for them, and they will have to face worse cruelties in his hand. It was better for them to leave this earth on their own terms.

Yes, she knew they all will die. But no, she was never planning on hearing about their death.

It hurt.

Her palms went cold. She took in a slow deep breath. She wanted to cry but she didn't want to in front of Leander. Holding her breath, she swallowed her pain.

She then said a prayer for them in her heart as she accepted their death.

It still hurt.

Leander observed her. She was looking down and even then, she could not hide the tears collecting in her eyes. She looked so frail and pitiful. So little and weak.

He didn't tell her what Evander did to their bodies after they died though. He wanted to but even he was ashamed of what his brother did.

My family got the corpses of your friends, and they mutilated and fed them to dogs--is not something he would say so proudly about his family.

And to add to that, he was the one who killed her family.

*Sniff*

Her nose scrunched a little and he heard a slight sniffle. She held her hands together and a drop of tear fell on the back of her hand. Without second thoughts, he held her chin and lifted it to face him.

Her eyes were dim. She didn't want to look at him and looked away. She was crying with her nose, probably. He had never seen anyone crying with their nose alone. She was wearing one of his old T-shirts and the neckline was drooping like her eyes were.

His heart squeezed with pain seeing her painful expression. And his lower abdomen burned to see her staring helplessly at the floor.

She is…pitiful… and pretty, even though she looks like a minion.

He traced her lips with his thumb and leaned to her face. She faced him. Her eyes widened and she blinked her eyes. Maybe because she was grieving, he didn't see hate in her eyes anymore.

With her astonished image imprinted in his mind, he closed his eyes and pressed his lips to hers. She gasped slightly and he inhaled sharply as he savored the coldness on her lips.

He rested his forehead over hers. His hand was still holding her chin. His nose was pressed on hers and their breath mingled. She did not struggle to get out of his hold. He tilted his face a little and nibbled on her lower lip.

The coldness of her lips was soothing. Her lips were tasty, her skin was so smooth and soft. He couldn't stop himself and started sucking on her lips. His hand holding her chin slid down to hold her neck and he pulled her closer to him. His heartbeat quickened and taking short breaths in between kisses, he pulled her closer wrapping his other hand around her waist.

He wanted her cold body against his body that was burning.

Burning in fever and desire.