Alright, this is what I've been playing with, instead of Beast and the Girl. I know, I know, I'm a very very bad writer. Please enjoy!
I leaped across the fence, and quickly squeezed through the bushes. Heart pounding, I waited till the footsteps faded away, till I could no longer hear the shouting. Erik, I begged, come on! My whole body shook with adrenaline and fear. I clamped my hand over my mouth and nose, attempting to silence the ragged panting, and clenched the other in the dirt. I counted to the three, then sprang silently from the bushes, and ran through Venice's canals, sticking to the shadows, just as he taught me. I heard a thundering of footsteps, the shouts of the Dogs, as we called them. The police; the animals snapping at my heels, hungry for my blood.
Desperation clawed at my stomach, as I ran harder. A cool hand shot from the shadows, and quickly pulled me into a small doorway, hidden from the Dogs. I knew that smirk, those glowing amber eyes. Erik. His lean body was pressed too close to mine. His strong hands wrapped tightly around my wrists, my back pressed into his chest. I tried to wriggle away, but he pulled me closer into the darkness.
"Shh! I just saved your skinny little butt, so show a little gratitude and silenzio!"
I tried to hold in my irritated grin. You knew Erik was upset when he broke out the Italian. "But is this really necessary?" I breathed back, shifting uncomfortably.
He chuckled in my ear evilly. "Of course. How else am I going to clock in my cuddle-with-Lyssa-time?"
"Erik!" I snarled, trying desperately to wriggle away, but he held fast.
He chuckled, digging his fingers into my wrists. "Shh, shh, wouldn't want them to hear us, hm? Especially in this compromising position…" He said, grinning evilly.
"You're disgusting." I said, flatly.
"And your only hope." He growled, suddenly done with his weird game.
I fell silent. Now that was undeniable. Erik and I had a short past, but already I owed him a lot. Too much, honestly. Erik was my teacher, my best friend, and the only human I saw regularly. Friends weren't really an option in this line of work. Not trusted friends anyway. No, for now, Erik was the only one I could tell anything to, the only one who always had my back… The only one I could count on. He'd taught me everything. And until I'd learned, he'd given me shelter, fed me, clothed me, and even brought me home books!
"I believe they're gone now. Come along, chanteuse." He called me that a lot. I knew it was French, though I didn't know what it actually meant.
"Yes, Erik." I answered, trying to catch a glimpse of his glowing amber eyes again, but he avoided my gaze.
"What did you call me?"
I sighed, and rolled my eyes. "Yes, maître." Pronounced "met", it meant "master" in French, that much I knew. Erik was biologically French, though for some reason now resided in Venice. I knew nothing of his past. Nothing of his face, even! He always wore a mask, and I didn't even know where he slept at night. He and I slept in one of Venice's old opera houses, a beautiful, abandoned palace. I slept in one of the dressing rooms, but he always disappeared at night. Somehow, though, he always heard me if I cried out in my sleep, and stated he could hear my footsteps. I tried searching for his room at night sometimes, but it was nowhere to be found.
Erik was a man of mystery. Or a boy? I didn't know. His body looked younger, near my own age of 15, but he acted so much older… And his eyes… Those glowing eyes had seen much more than his age. Even I could tell that.
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