stock: typewriter

Title :: Challenge

 Title :: Challenge
Progress :: 31/100
Word Count :: 300
Prompt :: #50 Devil
Disclaimer :: I do not own these characters and no profit is being made from the use of them.
 

Challenge
 
The thin soles of Cain’s Italian leather loafers made faint impressions on the carpet in her living room as he paced back and forth. His angry stride eating up the small space as his voice grew softer, his accent thickening so that the words held a harsher quality—yet the condescending tone remained much the same. “What did you think you were doing?”
 
“Going for a walk.”
 
His steps faltered and he turned to face her, pulling himself up straighter. “A walk? At this time of night?”
 
Her brow rose, “It’s barely ten,” and then her eyes narrowed, “And why were you scouring the woods for me?”
 
“Your carelessness tripped an alarm.”
 
The sneer that accompanied his words pulled an answering one across her lips and colored her voice with her contempt. “Really?”
 
“Yes.”

A pointed chin lifted and she met Cain’s glare as she leaned back into the overstuffed cushions of the couch that dominated the room. ”Then perhaps next time I’ll be more careful and avoid the alarms.”
 
His mouth thinned. “Perhaps it would be best to call it a night.”
 
Her head inclined and she ignored the urge to push at her bangs as they slipped forward. “Ya think?”
 
His spine stiffened with her tone and she kept his gaze a moment before he left her and then her home. The front door slammed with his exit and her shoulders dropped as her vision blurred. Swallowing past a suddenly tight throat she lifted a hand to brush at her hair and then let it fall to cover her mouth. Fingers pressing tight against her jaw as it tensed and she resented the tears burning the back of her throat. Blinked away the dampness in her lashes before standing and making her way toward the kitchen and chamomile.
 
The End.
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