"You're such a bastard!"

"I am a bastard," he agreed, leaning even closer to her, "but I'm your bastard, kitten."

Someone who's not average, not ordinary, not trying to fit in, not....'normal', as defined by society.

 And deep inside, she felt the weight of eyes upon her, watching her every move. 

Questions lingered and haunted her mind: Who was the observer? And what motives laid behind those captivating gazes?

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