Page 64 of Burn for the Devil
Her bedroom door was shut, and I slowly pushed it open. Samantha was curled under the blankets, her back to the door, but not asleep. It intrigued me how she didn’t stir, didn’t react. She knew it was me, but I’d have to speak to her about her carefree attitude toward personal security. Her aura remained muted, as it had been earlier, and still, some of it reached for me.
I lowered myself onto the side of her bed, waiting for her to roll over. She didn’t acknowledge me. “Samantha,” I addressed her, placing a hand on her shoulder. The relief I felt over touching her couldn’t be understated.
Her legs moved as she stretched out. “Why are you here?” she asked.
My hand slid off her shoulder and I leaned over to remove my shoes. “I needed to see you,” I answered. I’d almost told her I’d wanted to see her, but it was a need, a necessity. Not merely a want.
Samantha stirred a little more but remained facing the far wall. “Am I ever going to be rid of you?” The pain in her voice sent a sliver of panic through me.
“No,” I softly replied, moving myself onto my side and curling an arm around her. Her shoulder jerked at the contact before relaxing under my touch. I nuzzled her neck, breathing her in. I didn’t feed, only letting myself enjoy the scent of her, the feel of her skin against my face.
“I know you don’t want me gone,” I told her. “I know you feel it, you can’t hide from me.”
Her voice cracked as she spoke. “But you trapped me. Every night. For a whole year, you kept me a prisoner. Why? Why would you do that?”
“Can you forgive me?”
Samantha stayed silent for several minutes. There’d never been a time in my life where I’d ever sincerely asked for forgiveness. I’d given half-hearted apologies, based uponmy manipulation of circumstances, but I’d never requested forgiveness. This was a first for me.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Sighing, I said, “You were a distraction. The first time I saw you, at an art exhibition here in Boston, I knew you. I wanted you and I knew I had to get rid of Tim.” Samantha pulled away slightly and I let her.
“You were everywhere and all around me. Inside me. There was a connection I couldn’t deny. I had something else I had to take care of, family duty, that I would’ve neglected if I kept running into you.”
She sat up suddenly. “You’re an asshole. You know that, right? So why didn’t you imprison me during the day, only at night?”
“Because I would more likely come for you at night, when you’re at your most vulnerable. Its night right now.” I looked away from her. “Trapping you in your dreams made it less likely for you to frequent many events where we may have run into each other.”
I didn’t deserve her. Telling her I manipulated her in so many ways for my own personal gain while claiming to love her was likely the final nail in the coffin. My heart thudded relentlessly in my chest, my anxiety skyrocketing. The back of my throat itched, and my blood rushed through my head, filling my ears with a buzzing noise.
“And then you let me go, for no discernible reason.” She finally met my gaze.
I cleared my throat. “The problem was solved, so it was time. I’m sorry Samantha.”
“The problem was that girl, wasn’t it? Did you kill her?” She sat up slightly. “I think she knew who imprisoned me, she acted kinda weird when I told her what’d happened.”
Kiara was a subject I didn’t wish to speak about, my failure remaining a point of contention for me. I’d never intended for her to take off the way she had, removing herself from reach. She’d deserved better than any of my kind had given her. “Myself and another man are responsible for what happened with her. It's too late to do anything about it. And yes, she knew, she asked me about you. I didn’t tell her anything.”
“So, you expect me to just forget about everything and throw myself into your arms?”
“I’m requesting your forgiveness. I doubt you’ll forget anything.” Hopefully, she could feel my sincerity. “I’ll just take you into my arms, you don’t have to throw yourself. But I’ll catch you if you do.”
Samantha rolled her eyes at me in irritation. “I don’t know if you’re trying to be cute or if you really mean that.”
“I’m not cute.”
“No,” she mused. “You’re not.” Rolling onto to her back, she said, “You’re a bit obsessed, you know that, right?”
What I was, was dedicated. People only obsess over what they can’t have. “I know what I have.” I folded my arms under my head, laying back against one of the fluffy pillows by the headboard.
“You don’t ‘have’ me, Ramone. What you have is a victim of your abuse and obsession.”
Immediately, I sat up. “You’re not a victim of anything other than society or family, as much as I am. I told you I was sorry, and I asked for your forgiveness. I don’t know what more you want me to do but I’m telling you right now that I know you. I know you want to be with me. I’ll spend the rest of my infernal life making it up to you if I must. Without complaint.”
I grabbed her hands and she half-heartedly attempted to pull away, her big blue eyes staring into mine. “I refuse to lose you and there’s nowhere safer you could be than with me.”
“Ramone—”