♦~The Flurry Of Dancing Flames~♦ asked: Alright, well I’m writing a mystery novel. It’s about a young detective named Brooklyn Sommers who’s younger sister, Marilyn was kidnapped. She is trying to catch the culprit with all her heart and soul until finally she recieves a note that tells her to come to a Masquerade Ball to meet him (The kidnapper). She arrives, and she recieves a message from him that instructs her to go to a Hotel room upstairs (It is being held at a Five-Star, extremely fancy-like Hotel called the Grand Estate Hotel) and they end up fighting to what seems like will be to the death. I just wrote the 19th chapter entitled “Forget”, and I wanted an opinion on it. It’s a bit long, so be patient. Coming in the next post.
They had been at it for hours fighting.
All bullets in their firearms gone.
All their energy along with it.
A once peaceful Hotel room that had a lovely Queen-sized bed in the center, a coffee table to the side, along with a few chairs, a Television set, night stand and a bureau was now torn to shreds. The mattress on the bed had caved it, completely torn in half. Feathers from pillows were scattered everywhere. The once beautifully designed curtains were reduced to scraps and shreds that hung limply over their drapes. The chairs were smashed, with the exception of one, which was jutting out of the television screen. The nightstand was thrown across the room, laying on the side with only three legs, the fourth was on the other side of the room with a piece of cloth stuck to it. The metallic scent of blood lingered in the room, drops on the carpet, smears on the walls. Now in the center stood a woman and a man, both humans injured, badly bleeding and exhausted.
. The female held a chair leg to the man’s throat, eyes blazing with anger. The splintered end of the wood was pressed against his throat, at it seemed to be shaking because of the woman’s weakening grip.
“Well, it looks like you’ve lost.” The woman growled, breathing heavily, a large gash that was curved through her left eyebrow beginning to bleed again. The man chuckled lightly, closing his eyes. “Why would I have lost? The battle’s only begun…”
He pulled a small silver handgun from his pocket, clicking the safety off. “I’m reluctant to do this, but—“
The woman quickly froze, swallowing. “Go ahead.” She whispered. “I’ve already lost.” She continued, pressing his lips together. The man drew up his hand, pointing the short barrel in between her eyes. “Then I suppose this is goodnight, my rose.” He murmured, pulling the trigger.
A deafening noise echoed through the room. Smoke drifted up towards the ceiling and filtered out through the broken windows and throughout the abandoned building. Yet…
There she was.
“A…blank?” she murmured, shaking from the loud bang that could have woken the dead. The man didn’t say anything; he only dropped his weapon, throwing it aside. “Stop pointing out the obvious.” He murmured, taking a step back. The woman gave him a puzzled look. “Why?” she asked, but then, impulsively, grabbed him by the collar of his black dress shirt, his masquerade mask unable to his the coldness his gray eyes. “I think you and I know why.” He snapped quietly, looking into her eyes.
At first, he saw a deep hatred within the blue depths, but then something else. He always thought he had used her for a distraction from all the stress, all the tension. But maybe she was that tension. That stress that kept him awake at night. He couldn’t deny that he had grown fond of her throughout the investigation, but perhaps he had fallen in love with her?
The woman turned her head towards the windows, long brown curls following her head movements. The sound of screeching tires against asphalt. Angry shouts. She was out of time.
“They think I’m dead?” she asked softly, glancing through her own silver mask.
”Yes,” the man answered briefly.
“Then why…?”
Suddenly, she was silence. He had taken a step forward, gently lifting her mask so it rested on the crown of her head. He pressed his lips against her own, surprising her more then anything. His hands were resting lightly on her cheeks, which only made her go in for the kiss even more. She felt her own hands daringly lift his mask so she could feel his skin against her own—warm and soft.
His tongue danced across her bottom lip, begging for an entrance. No! This was her sister’s kidnapper—a criminal. The one who she had been hunting down for months! This shouldn’t feel so good…this was wrong on so many different levels!
But…
…She was a bit too distracted to worry about that.
She parted her lips; heart beat skyrocketing as their tongues danced, exploring each other’s mouths for a few moments. She felt her fingers bury themselves within black hair, deepening the kiss yet still.
As they stood their for what seemed like a century, a loud bang was heard from outside. He pulled away suddenly, pulling his mask down jaggedly so it was crooked, yet still kept his identity hidden. “Go!” he said forcefully. “They’re going to come soon. Go! Get out…and forget.” He said, quickly retreating from the room.
She dropped to her knees, burying her hands within her own chocolate-colored curls. She felt hot tears sting her eyes. She was confused, hurt…
Forget.
How could she ever?
-Done-
Rebecca
