I'm back (and I'm not coming alone 😈😏)! My eye is getting better, not sure it's completely healed, I'll find out tomorrow. But in the meantime, I wanted to post this chapter to thank you for all your love and well-wishes!! You really are my little rays of sunshine and shooting stars illuminating my days (even when I can't see you)! I love you all 😘🤩🌠🌞❤

'Take a breath, take it deep

Calm yourself, he says to me

If you play, you play for keeps

Take the gun, and count to three

I'm sweating now, I'm moving slow

No time to think, my turn to go'

"Dorothy! You're already back! Why something tells me it isn't for me?"

I smiled as I met Pete's twinkling gaze above his glasses.

"Neither for the guns?" He cocked an eyebrow, putting his magazine down as he seemed to find much more interest in the blush creeping up my cheeks, and I averted my gaze away to the shiny items behind him.

My lips pulled from one side to another as I twiddled my fingers and contemplated the various guns, small and big, semi-automatic and automatic, yet my mouth quickly came back into a shy smile as I shook my head no.

"Blade! There's someone for you!"

Was I this obvious? Did it look a little too clingy? Was it too soon? Those were questions that hadn't occurred to me before coming here, but they all arose with Pete's chiming tone, and they were all I could think about with the sharp tone that replied from behind the door,

"What the fuck? I'm busy right now! Tell those fuckers–"

As two large expanses of crystalline replaced the voice, more questions surged inside, and some tumbled out of my lips.

"Oh, you're busy? I'm sorry, I shouldn't– I can come back another time?"

The rush of power I'd felt today was long gone, but it was a new kind of emotion appearing with the blood running to my cheeks, the signals putting my muscles into movements, and in-between, the thoughts going in every direction.

Yet when my fingers reached the handle, it was all stopped – okay, maybe not the blood boiling to my cheeks – with the hand on my wrist turning me around.

"You're not one of those fuckers. I have time for you." Blade dipped his head down, diving his blue eyes into mine, although it felt more like I was drowning in them from so close.

The sharp tone had been replaced with rolling out syllables, and the surprise on his features with that famous sly smile, all this abrupt contrast faster than I'd spun around.

My head was still spinning – all the questions from before included, along with new ones, and those sparks from his touch still on my wrist – when he pulled away with a shrug.

"I was actually making something for you."

I furrowed my eyebrows as I was more than lost, and when he lifted his left hand, the black string poking out of his fist didn't give me more clue. Yet it was enough for my heart to jump, and it rocketed as Blade slowly opened his fingers.

One by one, the finest branches designs gave way to two small wooden items linked with the string.

I couldn't name it. It was unique and as intriguing as the inks on the other side of his hand. The two items were a mix of sharp angles and smooth, polished curves, something between beads and cubes, and they were perfectly similar.

My fingers were drawn in to touch both, inching carefully closer as if nearing a flame. Well, there was a spark when I grazed the warm skin of his palm in the process. Though I didn't move away, tracing the outlines of the strange shapes as the thrill of the unknown was climbing up my arm, and I only stopped on the tiny star engraved on one of the squared beads.

"It's a fidget toy. I've made this 'cause you're always playing with your hands."

"You've made it?!" I realized I hadn't been breathing as my gasp echoed strained and shallow, and I snapped my head up, already expecting his Cheshire cat's grin or the devious twinkle in his eyes showing me he was pulling on my leg.

But what I was met with was nothing like that. Like the object that could have looked straight out of a toy store display, his expression was breath-taking, and his eyes... were almost transparent and hung on all my gaping reactions.

"For me?"

"Yeah, who else is always fiddling with her fingers?" The hint of his smirk reappeared, and I looked down at my fingers that for once weren't moving. They were still on the fidget toy, and technically, on his hand too.

"Yes, I tend to always play with whatever I can lay my hands on, and my mom taught me to twiddle my thumbs instead when I was little."

I grabbed the toy, and in no time, my fingers got the hang, flipping the beads around my hand in every possible direction.

"My mom will hate this." I shook my head at the clattering sounds the fidget toy was creating with each flip before I offered him a large grin. "But I love it! It's..." It was hard to find my words when his eyes were observing me so piercingly, and although the object in my hand was busying my fingers, it wasn't working for the rest of my body that was more and more restless.

"Thank you so much, it's–"

"Nothing." He shrugged as if it was nothing.

Yet his 'nothings' tended to stretch the biggest smiles on my face, even when moments before I'd been frozen.

I was about to argue when I remembered he wasn't fond of politeness. So instead of searching for impossible words, I lifted on my tiptoes and let my gestures translate it in our own language as I kissed his cheek, and it wasn't 'nothing' that lit his gaze.

I stayed on my tiptoes to watch from so close this little nothing that seemed to soften all his sharp features for an instant that didn't need words.

I wouldn't have dared to speak anyway, and the only sounds were the clickety-clack of wood. I wasn't even sure if there were our breaths because when his large hand engulfed mine and stopped the movements of the toy, there wasn't a sound outside or inside me.

"Let me at least finish it."

"What?" I started to process everything as he pulled away, and I fell back on my heels when he was already at the counter, from where Pete had disappeared – I had no idea when. The only thing I knew was how many shades crystalline could take, and I quickly followed Blade to find a new one.

In two seconds, he'd already taken out his pocket knife, and the blue was darkening under a concentrated frown as he leaned his elbows on the counter and started carving.

Seeing him like this, it all clicked. The wood, it was the underlying hint in his contrasting and intoxicating smell. It was an underlying but essential part of him, as it was everywhere around, and it attracted me to discover more.

I leaned closer to those sharp features. All the hardness and tensions were back with the crease of his eyebrows, and it looked like he could cut the wood just with his gaze. Yet at the same time, there was something so precious and pure in the way he was nibbling absent-mindedly on the left side of his lower lip.

"Why are you here by the way?" His gaze flicked to me with still the same sharp intensity, and if usually, it felt like he was piercing through me, here, he was carving his mark inside me.

"Uh...I– You said I could come back... to find you yesterday." I twiddled my thumbs as my hands were empty again.

"Eager for more?" The same penetrating look associated with that mischievous sparkle, it was my tombstone he was engraving because his gaze was deadly, mainly for my sanity when I replied too eagerly,

"Yes."

His Cheshire cat's grin was joining in.

"I mean for a second date." I managed to rectify the disaster, stopping his smile with only one side lifted and a sly edge coming with a 'hmm', which made me glance down at my twisting fingers just when he slid the toy between them.

Was it already finished? He'd been so fast, and I had been so captivated watching him that I hadn't even caught what he was engraving.

But when my hands slowed their movements, I was caught, my heart soaring, this time, with a streak of sparks behind.

"A shooting star?!" I exclaimed, probably busting his eardrums, yet he didn't seem to mind as he walked closer to me.

"It's perfect. I love it even more! Thank you." My voice and my hands calmed down, yet inside nothing did as I traced the little meteor, which almost sparkled with the lighter shades of carved wood reflecting the artificial light above.

That was surely why the same trail of fire spread in my muscles when I heard the unaffected shrug in his voice.

"It's–"

I captured the 'nothing' with my lips, my restless hands reaching for his jaw as I crashed on his mouth like a shooting star.

He needed a second to react to my unusual 'thank you', but he quickly returned my eagerness, his hands finding my hips, and together, we turned the 'nothing' into a billion tiny flying sparks.

I tried to make him understand, feel how much it meant to me that he'd thought of me and that he'd taken the time and attention to make this for me with every caress of my lips, and as I slipped shyly my tongue to meet his, I also put all the emotions it arose in me that after just a few days he'd known me, he'd made an object that fitted me so much.

When he pulled away, I'd just started to translate more than even my brain couldn't process.

"When?" he breathed out, the tickles on my parted lips making me blink my large eyes open as much as the question. "The date," he added, and from the dimple showing up, it was clear he knew the effect his devious lips had on my brain.

It was impossible to think, especially since he snaked his arms around my waist as soon as my hands let go of his cheeks. I was engulfed in all of him, and whether I looked at the wooden toy between my fingers or in his penetrating eyes, all I could hear were the jack-hammering beats of my heart.

"Now." It wasn't a question, yet my voice wasn't assured either, echoing like a breathless whisper.

"Now? You gotta enlighten me on this, but how do you plan or find whatever 'date' activity now?"

This was a point I hadn't thought about in my rush to come here. He was always the one suggesting wicked ideas, so maybe I'd hoped he would find one.

But I could too, and I didn't have to look far, as, after a quick glance around, I was the one offering him a crooked grin.

"We have an activity just right here." I slipped out of his tight embrace, nodding at the guns on the wall before his bad intention could arise – okay, maybe it was already in his eyes, and it may have crossed my mind like whispered by an evil genie on my shoulder during our kiss.

However, we'd basically spent our first date with our tongues down our throats, and a little bit more, and as much as I'd loved it, I wanted to discover more about him. Shooting was perfect for this; it was telling a lot about someone.

"I've never seen you shoot." I threw him a challenging look with my lifted chin, which he only caught because he was leaning to try to kiss my neck. 

But I turned away, ignoring the tingles on my skin. 

"Maybe you're really bad at it..." I sang out.

Was I growing a little bit too confident? Surely, as I was quickly out of argument when he stepped in front of me.

"I'm the best at everything I do." His gaze flickered for a wickedly meaningful second to a specific spot of my neck, where it was enough to revive the fire, even through the fabric of my shirt, and his smirk was spreading the flames.

"Choose your weapon!" He leaned away, pointing with a grand gesture to the guns on the wall behind him, as if needing to clarify through all his inuendos and crooked allusions.

Yet I hadn't lost my focus, and with my warm cheeks and spinning head, I gazed attentively at the guns.

I wanted to see how he shot.

"Let's see if you can beat the Shooting star." My finger instantly found the right weapon, metallic gray, with a simple black handle, classic, and automatic, of course.

But I still stopped on my tiptoes to show Blade my competitive look and also make sure it was okay for me to take this gun. What was I thinking? He wouldn't have stopped me even if it was forbidden. He was the devil on my shoulder, once again almost literally when he whispered above my ear,

"Wanna bet?"

He so 'kindly' grabbed the gun for me, while still standing behind me and therefore, trapping me between all the weapons in front and his warmth.

I didn't know which one created this trail of explosive powder on my skin, but the next thing I knew, the words were shooting out of my lips as I turned to him.

"Actually, yes."

He cocked an eyebrow, and once the gun was in my hand, there was no turning back.

The thrill of shooting and challenge was always part of me, yet I didn't let it shine or show to a lot of people, and he, in no time, had been able to light that spark in me.

Even if he had that talent to make all my nerves jumpy, I also felt that natural power when I was with him. It was impossible to describe, but like the desire, the curiosity, and every emotion he arose in me, it seemed to spring from my guts.

"If I win, I want to see your secret place." My gaze lingered on the gun he chose: recent, black, with a wooden handle, and automatic, before I met the bad intentions in his eyes.

"And if I win?" He offered me that dizzying look from his tall height that was already giving him a head start, but I would never admit it, and from my small 5'1 height, I held his gaze while shrugging.

"Whatever you want."

"Okay." He held out his left hand, and I had so many déjà-vu as I narrowed my eyes at him.

"You didn't tell me what you wanted."

"Don't worry, you'll find out soon, Shooting star." He ducked his head down to be eye-level with me – and not only the eyes, in fact – but I didn't back away as his exhale tickled my lips.

"You wish!" 

As soon as my hand met his, he didn't let me time to shake it, already pulling me with him, and leading me through the hallway I was starting to be familiar with.

I knew where we were heading before we even entered the room: the one with only one booth.

Although I didn't hear any bangs today – if we didn't count the ones from my heart – I liked this room better because it seemed to be reserved for special people, and there also wouldn't be any distraction, well, except for the one wearing a Cheshire cat's smile.

To think that last time, I'd missed shots because I was looking for him. Now, I didn't need to look; his presence was felt in the whole room, and all around me.

"Ladies, first," he said from so close, making sure to send each raspy syllable deep inside before he covered my ears with the earmuffs, just like his hand lingered on mine as he handed me the bullets.

Was it a wicked way to distract me? I suspected it was, when he stayed close, watching me too attentively load my gun and prepare myself.

But he could only wish it would work because I would win. It was about my competitive side and my curiosity, two of my biggest flaws.

Besides, I was 'an exceptional shooter'; that was what I repeated myself to calm the flutters in my stomach. It was unusual, as I was always assured when shooting, but I guessed it was his 'whatever he wanted' that was lodging there, tickling an inch of my curiosity and a lot of nerves.

However, I wouldn't lose.

I hit the trigger and let the gunshots engulf everything before my mind could wander too much, and when the bullets ended in the center of the target, a victorious grin started to stretch my lips.

It was a thrill I would never get tired of, and it was intensified when I turned to Blade because of the stakes making it better of course, and maybe also, his piercing gaze so close.

"Your turn." I stepped away, leaving him space and observing him from afar.

First, I watched his large hands charging his gun. There was something so powerful about his long fingers crossed with the dark inks and a few veins appearing with the movements. It was like they were made to handle wicked things, and they were making the plainest tasks hypnotizing. So with a weapon in them, I couldn't take my eyes off, although I had a preference for the sharp edge of his knife, surely because of the precious little item I'd slid in my pocket.

When he lifted his arm, I let my gaze wander up along the tensions and relaxations of his muscles that I could still guess through the denim fabric of his jacket, especially as he slowly rolled his shoulders.

When my eyes reached higher, his gaze was already on me, fixed as piercingly as if I was the target. From the bang of my heart, there was no doubt he knew how to aim, and the flutters were back in my stomach, slowly gaining my nerves as he turned to the black and white circle.

His jaw was as squared as always, his fingers tensing on the trigger, while his shoulders were down, his lips parting to let out a steady breath, and with his feet firmly planted on the ground and his eyes narrowed but open. When the gunshots echoed, I knew without looking at the target that he'd hit the center.

"So?" He brought the gun in front of his lips to blow a breath, and I couldn't decide which part of my insides this gesture tickled.

"Not bad." I threw a quick sideways glance to the target, and like I'd imagined, there were bullet marks only in the smallest dark circle.

"Scared?" he asked, still not moving from his shooting spot, which meant that if I wanted to shoot, I would have to be glued to him.

"No, people say I'm 'an exceptional shooter'..."

His eyebrows rose for a second, though my quotation of his words didn't throw him off as he kept his unfazed presence.

"Yeah, I heard there's a few gossips going around..." His dimple deepened as he too repeated my words from that day, and he didn't need to say more; in the little indent, I could almost see the question 'and do you remember what they say about me?'

He was a killer. It was a fact I could never forget, yet I always overlooked it. Otherwise, I surely wouldn't have challenged him in a shooting game, and even less if I thought about what was at stake.

However, when he still didn't move, and I dared to position myself anyway, the dangerous shivers that ran down my spine weren't carrying any fear. They were so different from the freezing ones I had felt earlier today. These ones were delicious and distracting.

Yes, he was really trying to distract me.

After a few more volleys of shots, and many more brushes of skins or even teasing exhales along my cheeks, it appeared clearly, and although it made it harder to focus, I relished this great number of shivers and how they turned into burning sparks with the thrill of still hitting the center of the target.

"Is it me or it's hot right here?"

Well, I was more than hot, but the drawl in his question let me guess he was already aware of this fact, and as he stepped away, there was no doubt one of his bad intentions was coming.

I didn't even get to try to cool down or put myself into position to shoot that he was reappearing in front of me, and he really had to be careful when I had a gun in my hand because it was once again a miracle I didn't hit the trigger or even spark the bullet.

He was taking off his jacket right in front of me, and the simple gesture held nothing innocent. Everything was wicked and dangerous from the way he was slowly sliding off the denim fabric while holding my gaze with his smoldering one to the shreds of undershirt revealed under, along with too many tattoos.

It was like he knew I always used the intriguing inks on his skin to distract myself. 

For a second, I really forgot about the challenge and the stakes. He was already doing whatever he wanted of me, turning me into a hot mess of nerves, once again, and the curiosity prickling my fingers was for a different kind of secret place, so much that I almost let go of the gun in my hand – almost because when my eyes traveled back up, and I took in his victorious smirk, I was reminded this was a game, and he wasn't playing fair.

But I wasn't one to forfeit, and with my burning cheeks and shallow breaths, I turned to the target. If I'd done it with his mysterious presence so close and an overflow of tears the first time we'd met, I could easily do it again. Besides, it meant that he was scared of my shooting skills, didn't it?

"Aren't you hot?" He leaned closer again, right when I lifted my arm, his fingers tugging at my turtleneck to emphasize his question, and he didn't appear the least frightened as he was making me shudder.

That was a low blow, literally when his warm breath tickled the newly exposed skin of my neck and reawakened a too fresh blaze.

I didn't need to look as I felt the mischievous spark in his gaze arouse the goosebumps there one by one, and I mostly didn't give him the pleasure of replying. My answer was the pull on the trigger as I focused my glare on the target.

"Ouch! What's happening, Shooting star?"

I hated those delicious and distracting shivers, and I regretted what I'd thought a few minutes before, as now, there was no more thrill of victory, just the flames of annoyance and that raspy chuckle of his, sparking my skin.

My glare went from the white circle of the target I'd hit to that smug smile, throwing daggers at his sharp features, yet it only seemed to sharpen those dimples.

"My turn?" He cocked an eyebrow, not even trying to hide the amusement in his clear eyes, while I moved away without a word.

It was safer because I was about to explode if I stayed close, and I crossed my arms tightly over my chest to prevent my hands from scratching the spot he'd tickled with his breath. It would have given him too much satisfaction, it...

A spark lit up as I watched him load his gun with still the same large grin. It wasn't a spark that would make me burst though, neither a shudder, nor a thrill of victory, but it could become one.

I slowly uncrossed my arms and walked to him, the gun still in my clammy hand, while the other reached down.

Arriving at the hem of my tank top, I hesitated for a second, as it wasn't something I was used to do – actually, I'd never done it – yet it was for a good reason.

Winning a bet about shooting, that didn't sound really 'good', and I couldn't imagine if my parents found out about this. But I guessed it would be another thing I would have to confess Sunday at the mass. The more I was spending time with Blade, the more the list was growing...

However, the frisson sending my heart in a frenzied rhythm made it worth it as I stopped really close.

"I'm not hot. I'm burning..." It was the truth, though Blade probably didn't expect my soft confession, neither that I was lifting my shirt to reveal my belly button.

Two could play that game, and it was exhilarating to watch his large eyes do a double-take from the target to my exposed white skin as if making sure he wasn't dreaming.

Even the way all his muscles tensed, and his gaze darkened to drink in my small figure was fueling the powerful rush in my veins.

"Baby, you're just giving me more reasons to win." His gaze traveled down my silhouette once more, slower this time, and whatever he had in mind, I only saw bad intentions in his intense eyes.

I didn't even dare to imagine what he was picturing, but when he shot, I feared I would find out too soon.

He was winning again, the bullets hitting the center more precisely than before, and I was still the one shivering, quickly rolling down my shirt again.

I'd come here, giving up to be powerful and searching to be evil, and clearly, he was the perfect evil genie for this. Yet I still had to learn, and in the meantime, I could only do what I knew: let out all the overflowing emotions through gunshots.

With a lot of concentration, it worked – also because he didn't stand as close as before. It was like he already had won, and he was planning his 'whatever'. It must have been this as his penetrating gaze was still on me, now, not only lingering to my freckles and my covered neck but to my stomach too.

Nevertheless, I hadn't given up yet, and I was racking my brain for a way to distract him that wouldn't give him more reasons to win.

"Watch out!" I shouted from behind him, explaining myself with a sheepish smile that must have resembled a Cheshire's one. "I thought I saw a mosquito..."

Yet it only moved his eyebrow, and not his trajectory.

This was not the brightest idea, but I couldn't come up with anything else. I would have to win fair and square, and my shots were more and more precise for it.

However, it wouldn't be enough because he was an exceptional shooter too. The more I watched him, the more I could notice it, and it was obvious he had more practice than I had. He lived here and surely used his gun outside too, while it had been years since I'd touched a gun if we didn't count my birthday, which I tried to forget.

"Who taught you to shoot?" The question slipped out at the thought of that day and our first encounter, and I must have lost my objective to distract him as my eyes had been wandering his tall silhouette.

I was now more focused on the positioning of his feet, one in front and one behind with much more space than between mine. It was what most people did, but it was more tiring and straining on the back. I could still hear Grandpa's lesson about this, like he'd tried to prepare me for this challenge.

Yet it wasn't the fatigue that seemed to tense all Blade's muscles suddenly.

Somehow my innocent question was the evil distraction I had been searching for. I could almost see the shiver going throughout his whole body; it was imperceptible, but I could follow it from the twitch of his forearm to the empty breath he let out.

"No one. I've learned by myself." He shot on his last word, and when I glanced at the target there was no spark of victory in me.

His bullets had ended in the black circle, yet not the center one, which meant I had now points lead over him.

I'd found his weak spot, the perfect distraction. Of course, almost every time I'd asked him questions about him or his past, he'd dodged them or had closed off as if he didn't want to reminisce or share with me.

It was so easy to forget when seeing his confident and unaffected stance. But while I was unsettled by personal contact, he was with personal questions.

"Your turn, inspector." He pulled me out of my realization, his tilted head only sharpening his features, unless it had been my previous question.

"What's happening? Do you need more reasons to win?" My hands snaked and crossed to reach the hem of my shirt again as I peered up at his dimple slowly reappearing.

"Don't tempt me." His breath was once more tingling my skin, along with his whole body so close.

Had I just consciously sealed my defeat? Surely, but I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. I preferred his mischievous smile so close than his closed mind so far.

There were still a few more rounds, and I would have to focus harder, but it made the game much more interesting.

I bet you weren't expecting this kind of dangerous game! 😏😈 Who do you think will win?

And also, what do you think about this little gift Blade has made? 🤩 Did you guess he was talented with his hands (for carving wood I mean  😅)?

Let me know all your thoughts!! And if you liked this chapter, don't forget to vote ⭐!

Also, you might want to add the story to your library/reading list and follow me, if you haven't already, to be the first to know who will win this game 😏😘👀