Oliver Burton

Oliver listened to Miya speak those fond words about her mother. That endearing sentiment could be heard in her voice, seen in her face while she talked. Yet just as quickly as she surrenders to vulnerability, she was just as quick to call him a bossy brute which causes him to shrug easily, hardly concerned with those names. He had forged himself into being that bossy brute as she so easily puts it. A strong unmovable force was exactly what he needed to become, thankfully, it was an easy role to fill in these trying times. At least the more control and power he carved for himself, it makes him that much more untouchable. It was like that the day he swore an oath to protect his sister, a promise to keep them both alive. Even when he was in school, he took on that dominant nature, mastering those grades, working ten times harder than the average student. He had some of the highest grades, even though he was that solitary man at the back of the lecture hall who never uttered a word, but learned by studying people, by reading them, by listening. His voice came later and it was a voice he could command that would not be ignored, he made sure of it.

His thoughtful nutmeg hued eyes brush over her gentle features that seem so strikingly vulnerable even though it is so very fleeting. Oliver could practically see that internal struggle within her before that reddened embarrassment took hold. Her cheeks might have very well be stained that crimson hue tonight permanently. That struggle within her did not go unnoticed, all while Oliver remains ever that stoic commanding force he so often was. Which only made it that much more surprising when that stoic mask falters as he examines all that caked blood along her neck. How much pain she must have been in? He is careful to snap that mask back in place even though that guilt was so very potent.

How guilty he felt in that very moment, knowing this whole debacle could have been prevented in the first place if he only allowed her to borrow his phone. What he could hardly contemplate was she was actually trying to reassure him. But even her sweet, caring words are not enough to reassure the man. That mighty protective creature would forever feel that guilt, especially as he had taken it upon himself to dedicate himself to keeping her safe.

He reached out to grab a strand of that saturated hair, allowing his fingers to feel that texture near absently, deep within his own thoughts. How she freezes as though she forgets to breath entirely, the girl looked innately stunned, and yet deep within his own thoughts he was unaware of that look as he seemed to study that hair within his fingertips. That blurting command left her lips that causes his gaze to peer at her curiously, snapping him free from those thoughts. Who was bossy now? He could hardly help that deep masculine chuckle escape him them, that sound seemed to flood that entire bathroom. It was impossible to notice just how tense she was as he reaches to turn on that shower, their bodies so close he could feel her warm breath. In that very moment, when they almost touched, the room felt almost heavy with anticipation even though very little actually happens.

After undressing, leaving behind his clothes in a neat pile he notices her eyes were anywhere but his face. How curious he thought. There was a certain pride he took that was entirely masculine as she seems to appreciate and gawk at his defined physique. She seemed almost embarrassed of being caught that familiar reddened hue blooming upon her plush cheeks once more. She is quick to declare she was not beautiful. "Yes you are.." His eyes find hers, peering at her intently. There was no denying that she was beautiful, her temper and attitude, well that was another thing entirely. "Especially when you aren't busy fighting me." There was a hint of a playful tease within his words, offering her aid into that warm embrace of the shower. How lovely that water felt upon his aching muscles, washing away all that dirt and blood away. He hated being unclean.

That soft caress of that warm water seemed to sooth the rattled woman, he could not deny how it seemed to have the same effect on him. It was almost peaceful being in here, perhaps even natural despite how there was nothing normal about this night. He was a stranger to her as she was to him and yet he felt that self-sworn dutiful obligation to her all the same. She claims that she should be dead ten times over and hearing those few stories, he cant exactly disagree with her. "You really should be, but you aren't I have to believe it is merely not by luck alone.." Those rich baritones rang out easily to encase her then, there was something calming about that voice then, with a hint of concern. How she declared almost proudly that she was no damsel in distress and yet she said those words like she was almost unsure. Pepper spray seemed hardly effective against a vampire, temporarily maybe, but it seemed like it would only enrage the beast more. He sighed as she laughed, she seemed so at ease with him. What a change in comparison to earlier. It was like after shedding her clothes, she shed that barrier to keep him away. He seemed to forget himself as he draws that cloth to help wipe some of that blood away, but she seemed to recoil from that touch. He withdrawals immediately his expression almost apologetic. She swiftly clings to words began to sputter some excuse that no one has touched her, that embarrassment evident then. She truly was a virgin.. why it baffled him that much he hardly knew. How that woman seemed to be so much more fragile to him then. She already was but now she was equivalent to a thin brittle eggshell. He wasn't sure why but that sensation seemed to hit him hard then.
That question why, he was rather unsurprised of. Why she bothered asking now, he hardly understood, but it seem to mean something to her. He could see it then, that guilt that seemed to fold in on himself felt overwhelming then. He felt responsible for her and he had let her down. She would have been dead and he was sure her face would have haunted him so. "You say that, but I have made you my responsibility." His voice trails off as those strong arms shoot out to steady her swaying form. His strong hands reach for her shoulders, careful not to ensnare her hips like they had wanted to. She seems to catch herself too, pushing back then to right herself.

That whistling kettle seems to slice through that stillness then, drawing his thoughts away. There was a thickness in the air as she flat out stares at him, accompanied by a new scent that appeals to that predator within him. That scent he knew markedly all too well as the rich smell of desire, there was no hiding it then. Her heart seems to race like she is prey, yet in that very moment he hardly viewed her as such. Her eyes seemed almost fixated upon his lips, unintentionally leaning into him as though she could hardly help himself. God that scent, he wasn't quite sure what to do in that very moment, he refused to move.. refused to utter a word. He simply stood still, dangerously still, knowing he could barely trust himself if he did. In that moment when that inner bear seemed so close to the surface now like it might erupt from him in any given moment. Shit.. she better not touch him.. but then a strange look seems to cross her features before her eyes seem to flutter before crashing into him. Concern seems to over power that man then, above all else. He hissed out a sound of surprise, an inhuman growl ripping clean from his lips. He hadn't meant the sound as he caught her, holding her tightly against his form not willing to let her fall, not ever. She was nothing more than dead weight then and even still she is feather light within his solid embrace. "Miya? Can you hear me?" He asks all too softly but does not get a reply. Not good. This was all too much for her.

It was nothing at all to wrap her up in one of her towels and keep her closely pressed tightly against him before scooping her up, cradling her small form against his own. Sopping wet, he manages to bring her into her room, uttering soft little nothings to her as though she could hear them. At the very least, she was breathing and her heart beat was strong. He dried and changed her in some obscure clothes, so she didn't have a stitch of wet clothing left on her. He wanted to keep her warm, dressing her with distinct care in the fluffiest pj's he could find. He was a fumbling mess and he was glad she couldn't see him this way. Undressing was always so much easier and yet still he manages.

Like a guardian he stayed on watch vigilantly, meticulously observing her breathing and steady thudding heart rate while she slept. He nearly nodded off several times but that urge to protect her prevented him from getting any. He had already consulted with Edgar's wife, planning on them to check on her in the morning when he left, he wondered how she would feel when she arose.

Oliver left his sopping wet boxers hanging on a chair in the living room to dry, dressing in his dry clothes in the meantime. He was so tired, he hardly remembered them when he left the confines of her apartment for his own home, probably only mere moments before she woke. She seemed so peaceful while she slept, almost angelic and carefree, but at least she was breathing and alive. Those wounds would heal and all would eventually be well. It was truly the hardest thing to leave, but Edgar and his wife had assured they would check on her shortly and honestly, he needed to get home and get some much needed rest, along with a new pair of clothes. The scent of blood still taunted him so as he disappeared into the dawn, the first signs of that light greeting him as he left. Along with that those very words that made him frown, oh what a night.