Chapter 3 Introduced To An Incredibly Hot Psycho Man

~ Mona ~

"Are you awake?" a beautiful, musical voice rips through the void I am suspended in, bringing me to the present with a thud. Everything suddenly shifts into focus, the blurred edges sharpening into easily distinguished images.

Am I dreaming?

A spectacularly handsome man stares at me, his startling green eyes disconcerting me with their brightness. I feel myself get lost in them, examining their wondrous beauty, trapped in their spectacular gaze.

His skin is tan and muscled, his arms bulging, his hands strong and firm. Wearing a t-shirt and cargo shorts, he is dressed casually, yet he has an elegance that can't be explained.

Straight and long, his hair cuts off around his jawbone, framing his face with pride. Layers are all over the place, short wisps accompanied by long strands, carelessly tousled. The bangs make me subconsciously want to push them aside so I can gaze evermore into his eyes with no distractions.

The strangest thing about his hair, though, is that it is blue. A royal blue, even, that shines in the sunlight. But the hair suits him, complimenting his lightly tanned skin and emerald eyes.

"Hello?" he asks again, his voice soothing to my ears. I blink once, trying to adjust to the incredible handsomeness before me. A man this beautiful has never been within five feet of me before.

Finally examining myself, I notice that my leg is not bleeding anymore, covered with a thick bandage. My shoulder is covered likewise.

I am laying on a soft, plushy divan. The floor is of pure marble, a deep black with hints of white trying to squeeze its way into the tile. A huge chandelier, crystals dancing generously just below its metal limbs, hangs delicately on a thin, gray wire in the center of the chamber. There is an impressive array of books, a gigantic bookcase stretching from wall to wall.

But, of course, all my attention focuses on the man.

He chuckles as I scan his face yet again, taking in his perfection, looking at masculine features that, at my school, I used to only be able to observe from afar.

I cough once, attempting to croak some words out of my mouth. "Shh," he whispers, holding his hand over my mouth, "your throat is probably dry. Let me get you some water first." His hand feels so comfortable, and I feel, somehow, saddened when he releases it from my face.

As he travels over to a stainless steel sink, I am unable to find a single emotion conveyed in his saunter. He seems to glide, walking in a way that's almost impossible to describe.

That is only one of the strange things I notice about him.

Another thing that perks my curiosity is his eyes. When I skimmed over it before, I hadn't noticed the reflection of the light upon his pupils.

Now, as I more carefully observe, I realize there is no reflection. The light doesn't bounce off his eye, but rather, sinks into it. It is barely noticeable, even by me, the queen of scrutiny, but I now can see the difference. The bright, emerald green seems to snatch the light and display it in his irises, his pupils a deep black in comparison. When I look at them, and he returns my gaze, my form is not visible in his pupil.

He brings a cool glass of crystal clear water to my lips, gently pouring it into my mouth. "Can you speak?" he probed.

"Yes," I barely whisper.

"Okay, good," he smiles brightly.

I suddenly find it hard to speak. "T-thanks for s-saving me," I stutter. He lets loose a musical laugh, the most beautiful one I've ever heard.

"It was a pleasure."

I feel self-conscious; suddenly disconcerted by the way he is scanning my face, my body. I start to feel nervousness when I meet his gaze, even one glance at his beautiful, appraising eyes causing butterflies in my stomach. The need arises to avoid this strange, alien behavior towards me, to return to the orphanage and work on that science project I didn't do earlier because I thought I would die today.

I quickly sit up, my back reposed on the fluffy pillows, and then I attempt to swing my legs over the side. Before I succeed in depositing my feet on the floor, though, he catches my legs and deposits them back on the divan, the hint of a smile in the corner of his lips. I feel a tingle of a delight as he touches them, his fingers lingering a little before pulling away. "Just what do you think you are doing?" he demands, rather laughingly.

"Leaving." I decide to tell him the truth. "Thanks again for the help."

His eyes widen, "But you can't just leave! We have to find out more about each other! I don't even know your name."

He is so different from any guy I've met. He actually seems like he wants to know more about me. His gaze tugs at mine, his expression of disappointment. If I didn't know better... I'd say that he likes me, or at least my appearance.

But, the thing is, I know better. Being liked is a privilege reserved for prettier people than me.

I shoot up so quickly my movement is almost a blur, ignoring the pain that my motions are invoking within my injuries. The joke is over. "Well, sorry. I'm leaving," I say sharply. Why does my rudeness have to flare up at a time like this? I really need to work on my social skills. He did save my life, after all.

I guess his behavior is scaring me. The way he is earnestly looking at me, with so much devotion, is rather unsettling and strange. It is like nothing I've ever experienced before, and, honestly, I have never been so afraid in my life.

I start walking to the door, my slightly damp red hair waving in the light breeze. Maybe this is all just a dream. Maybe in a matter of minutes I will wake up to find that the man is only a figment of my imagination.

"Please stop!" I hear his relaxing, hypnotizing voice, but I manage to shake his command from my mind. He can't coerce me into continuing on with this joke any longer. Obviously he is just toying with me by pretending to be attracted, in order to get a good laugh out of his friends later. However, as I continue to walk, there is a blur, and then...