"Is it you?" I started, my voice a whisper.
The way he looked at me, a possessive glint in his eyes, his words made my chest tighten. It wasn't a new feeling, but it had become more pronounced lately. It made me sigh, a small, tired sound that escaped my lips.
I reached for his hand, his fingers warm against mine, and gently squeezed. "It is you, right?" I repeated myself.
His head snapped up, his gaze intense. "What do you mean?"
I looked into his eyes, the familiar black now swirling with an almost red hue, and my heart pounded in my chest. "It's you, the devil, talking to me right now, right?" I repeated myself for the third time.
The astonishment on his face, the way his eyes widened, was nearly humorous. However, a spark of something else, akin to a thrill, swiftly took its place. His hold on my hand grew firmer, his grin broader than I had ever witnessed.
