Read episode 1 here: http://bit.ly/allureserial
Anger coursed through me—anger at my weakness. At my inability to imagine a life without Demitra although it’d only been four months since we began seeing each other.
Anger at my old self for not being more careful.
Anger at Monica for existing in the first place.
God. Where was Demi?
Unused to this extreme level of anxiety, I stormed over to the door and peeked through the peephole. Within mere seconds, the elevator doors opened and I saw her step off.
Demi.
She looked as stressed as I felt. Just as afraid.
I’d never felt my stomach drop as it did then. Don’t be a fucking pussy. Just face the situation. I told myself that over and over, but it didn’t help shit.
Demi raised her hand to knock—
I practically tore the door open, grabbed her arm, and yanked her inside. Without saying anything, I closed the door, knowing damn well that I was probably hurting her because of how tight my hold was.
Couldn’t help it, though. My body was instinctually fighting to keep her near, when deep down I knew I was minutes away from sending her running.
I tried to bring her deeper into the apartment.
She pulled back, refusing to budge.
Confused, I turned back to her. “Demi?
Her gorgeous, sad eyes stared up at me. “You said you wanted to talk. So what’s going on?”
Fucking hell. That expression on her face sliced my insides wide open. She was bracing herself for me to break it off with her. Realizing that made me that much more determined to not lose her. Moments ago, I was prepared for the fact that I might.
Now, all I cared about was doing whatever I had to do to keep this woman with me. “Demi, come into the living room.”
My stubborn woman’s jaw hardened. “I rather talk here.”
Why? So she could have a clear path to the door?
Fuck. That.
“Demitra, come in and sit down. This isn’t something we should talk about standing here.”
When she closed her eyes, the space between her brow furrowed, the rage I had toward Monica morphed into something much, much worse. At the rate I was going, I would end up killing the bitch for making an already delicate situation even more stressful.
Sighing, I tried to soften my tone. “Demi, please just—”
“Dorian,” she mumbled, eyes still closed. “Just tell me what you have to say and I’ll leave.”
I’d known it, but hearing her declare it still came as a shock. “Leave? Demi, what—” My mind spun faster, and the fear I was trying so hard to contain burst out of me. “—you fucking think that—Jesus. Baby, just come and sit with me.”I grabbed her hand and rushed toward one of the couches.
The same one I’d fucked her on God knew how many times now.
I couldn’t even bring myself to look at the coffee table. Not with all the scenarios rushing through my mind. She was going to try to leave me once I confessed everything, and I had no idea how to stop her.
Pausing in front of the couch, I motioned with my hand toward it. Demitra sat down. My initial thought was to join her on the couch, but there was no way I could remain still with this many emotions coursing through me.
Pacing in front of her, I took a deep breath and finally let the truth out. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m going to just say it outright. I’m being threatened.”
“What?”
I stomped right back to my old position in front of the windows and stared out into the city once more. Crossing my arms, I gritted my teeth.
“Dorian, what are you talking about?”
“Monica,” I ground out, hating the sound of that name more and more.
Commentaires