Alya
His blond hair caught the overhead lights, turning it almost white, too damn angelic for a man with hands as bloody as his. Shadows lined the angles of his face, but somehow he still looked like every mother's dream and every enemy's nightmare. He pulled the lollipop from his mouth with a soft pop, tilting his head, that lazy, mocking grin curling his lips.
"Midnight swim, sweetheart?" he drawled, pale eyes flicking down, catching the trail of water dripping from my hair, the half-damp clothes clinging to my skin. "Didn't peg you for a romantic."
My breath hitched, a sharp, incredulous sound.
"Hule?"
The name scraped out of me before I could stop it, confusion slamming into me like a brick to the chest. I blinked at him, trying to piece reality back together.
"What are you doing here?"
