Page 51 of Misted
Mist
Your madness is my drug and I keep falling like an insane person in the asylum.
A long time ago,when we were young and fairly innocent – minus all the Omega and killing, Hawk used to look pained whenever we made love.
It was as if he was holding back and tucking his demons away.
For me.
He didn’t want to hurt me even when I begged him to show me all of him. Even when I provoked him to exhibit that side of him.
During those times when we were younger, he lavished and worshipped my body, but that’s it.
Now? He’s looking at me like he wants to ruin me.
Destroy me.
Devour me.
A shot of thrill and needy heat coats my arms and shoots straight to my throbbing core even though a part of me shivers at the look in his enthralling eyes. This isn’t my Hawk, my anchor, and my warm shoulder. This isn’t the boy who’d say ‘Hug’ and envelop me in an all-protective embrace.
This is a man filled with pure, unhinged hatred and the need to hurt.
After all the time we spent apart, I don’t know this man anymore. He could’ve become a monster or simply unleashed the monster that’s always been inside him.
Just like I always wanted him to.
Monster or not. My crazy fantasy has no place in my messed up reality.
My head is starting to throb and I need that Omega dose now before the memories start trickling in.
I grab his arm and try to remove it, but his grip might as well be steel.
“Why have you brought me here? I could’ve hidden back in the UK.” I release a breath through my nose, trying to stop myself from moving against his erection warming my behind.
He says nothing. God forbid if the man actually has a conversation.
I struggle against him, fighting the pain in my head and the burn in my arm wound.
There’s something about him spooning me from behind that awakens feral need inside me. It’s like a shot of ecstasy straight to my bones.
Don’t stay alone with him.
It’s a simple damn rule to protect myself from the insane effect he has on my body, my heart, and all the way to my soul.
I was never able to resist his mountain-like presence, his intense silence and his raw, freaking masculinity.
A part of me wants to close my eyes, breathe in his ocean and smoke scent and just let go.
For once, let go.
But that part is an idiot.
“Why do you want me?” I whisper.
His hold falters from around my waist. That must’ve taken him off guard as I planned. I seize the surprise element and slip free and then down the stairs.
I can’t help admiring the cosy little entrance. Sunlight slips through the tall, French window to cast a warm glow on the furniture. An antique wooden table sits in the middle of the entrance hall with a vase of jasmine flowers on top. A traditional carpet streaked with red and green covers the wooden floor.