The murky scent of dirt and stones surrounded Henna. She was all alone in a mausoleum, having only an hour ago been tracking through the cemetery when some powerful force had snatched her off her path. She only got a glimpse of her attacker when he forced her into the crypt: a tall man with strong shoulders and blonde hair, handsome yet terrifying with his dark eyes that held secrets too deep to fathom.
'Don't go anywhere,' he had told her, his voice deep and playful. She learned the reason for his playful tone when he left her there, making sure to barricade the exit with a movable wall. Henna used all her strength, but the wall would not budge an inch.
She sat on a big old marble tomb with her feet dangling down the side of it. She was nowhere near the ground and found it weird she even managed climbing onto it. Whoever brought her there had left a red candle in the corner, its small flame casting an orange fluttering glow on everything. The sharp shadows of the crypt sneaked all around her while a spider moved around in a corner to collect its newest victim; a helpless little moth.
The wall slid to the side and she watched in horror as the man reappeared. He wore jeans and a tight shirt streaked with dirt, she noticed, now that her sight leveled with the lack of light. He grinned at her and closed the entrance with his foot. Henna gaped at his strength, her heart running a little faster. He would surely squash her like a bug if he wished to do so. She slid closer to the edge of the tomb, further away from him. With slow steps, he moved closer to her, his dark eyes all the while connected to hers. His smile grew bigger when she jumped to the ground and when she hastily tried to put distance between them, the large tomb constantly separating them. He let a finger trail the edge of the stone; his nonchalance showing her he was enjoying a game. Her gaze flickered to the spider in the corner, and she feared how her night would end.
"What's your name, sweet?" he asked, his voice controlled and calm.
"Henna," she rushed out, almost tripping on a rock. When she looked up at him again, he was much nearer suddenly, and she yelped. Henna ran several steps ahead, her heart drumming in her temples painfully.
"My name's Eric," his velvet voice wrapped around her. She felt dizzy. In the blink of an eye, he jumped on top of the grave, crouching on it like a tiger and leaning over her. She gasped and backed away until her back met a cold wall. Eric swung down from the grave and planted his hands on the wall next to her head on either side. She shivered cowardly, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.
"Please, let me leave," she begged him, seeing no other option.
He leaned toward her slowly and kissed her cheek. The kiss was soft and tender, igniting every nerve in her small frame. He smelled so good, a sheer veil of rain and earth on his skin and she felt drawn to him. He ran his fingers through her curly brown locks, and then he seized her neck and pulled her into a melting kiss. Her heart fluttered faster and his kiss deepened, ferocious and wild with hunger while he guided her with him. Eric's back touched the tomb and he turned quickly before lifting her up onto it.
"Are you ready for me?" he asked, his eyes seductive and dangerous.