"Oh, my God, what are you doing?" she exclaimed. "You shouldn't use your hands!"
"You wanted to leave. And the cross is yours," I said simply, and her eyes widened.
My cross was an indication she belonged to me, and everyone would know it. It belonged nowhere else but on her graceful neck, above her heart.
"Listen, Dominic. It's just weird keeping it, okay? I wanted to check on you, and that's about it.”
"That's my claim of ownership," I stated, and this time, her jaw hung open. Why was she surprised at my statement? She lived all this time with Damian. Hadn’t she recognized the signs of a man possessed?
"Excuse me?”
"It means you belong to me. What's there not to understand?"
She shook her head in disbelief, took several steps back, making it impossible for me to reach her, and exhaled a heavy breath. "It's impossible. I—" She licked her dry lips. "You look so much like him, the same face, even if everything else is different." My brows furrowed as I tried to make the connection with me being Damian's twin.
Why would she care so much if I—
Fucking realization hit me like ton of bricks.
The only reason she'd feel out of sorts with my resemblance to Damian was if she had a crush on him all this time and covered it up under the whole pretense of a brother-sister relationship he created. "I see." My voice was cold and detached. Not that I expected her to want to be with me from the start, but the idea of her being in love with my fucking twin never crossed my mind. A little harmless crush, yes, but a first-love kind of thing going on? No fucking way.
I wouldn't have cared if she were confused or unwilling, as shameful as it sounded. Men like me generally had no conscience. However, second best wasn't the title I wanted to have in the relationship.
"You do?" she whispered.
I nodded. "Yes, your explanation was quite clear. You can leave the cross and go." She blinked a few times and opened her mouth to add something, but I waved my hand dismissively. "Just go." For a split second, I thought her eyes watered and hurt flashed in them, but it was quickly gone, and she left the room, leaving me to dwell on my own misery.
Rosa turned out to be nothing but one more bitter disappointment in life.
Rosa
My heart beat rapidly in my ribcage. Breathing heavily, I sat down on the bench outside the hospital and tried to calm my hectic mind. The intensity of emotions I felt when I was close to Dominic couldn't be explained. My hand touched my neck. I already missed his cross. Somehow, it fit perfectly and I barely felt it.
I'd never had any experience with men in my life, and truth be told, I never had a real crush on anyone. All the guys seemed immature, and then once I started living with Damian, dating was kind of out of the question.
Dominic was another story altogether though. Even those two little snippets of moments we shared, he overwhelmed me with his masculinity and the powerful energy coming from him in waves.
I didn't believe in love at first sight, even though I loved reading romance books. My deep attraction and fascination with him had another name.
Desire.
The tingling sensation in my body, images of his tattooed skin against mine, his deep, low voice talking to me in the heat of the moment. I longed to explore it and finally find out what all the fuss about sex was.
But he was Damian's twin. If I tried anything with him, everyone would think I had a crush on Damian all along, and it just wasn't true. He was like a big brother to me. The idea of seeing him in any other light but platonic grossed me out.
How could I react so differently to the same face? And how could the universe screw me so much? Weren't there other men on the planet to tempt me?
Wiping away the tears that unexpectedly rolled down my cheeks, I plastered a smile on my face and went in the search of the Scott family.
On the way to Damian's room, I ignored the little voice that urged me to let go of all those stupid insecurities and run to Dominic.
Man with the dragon tattoo
Cleaning my knife, I admired the shape and form of it, not to mention the way it shone in the dim light.
Perfect to cut flesh.
A woman whimpered in the cell, and annoyed, I glanced back at her as she sat on the floor holding her knees to her chest. She had a split lip and several knife wounds I’d left on her. “Shut up,” I ordered, but she just sobbed harder, and I barely restrained myself from pulling out my gun and killing the bitch.
