The sensation of touching her is electrifying, the chemistry between us strong enough to create new elements, new breakthroughs. What we have isn’t toxic. It’s pure. Maybe too pure for her to even comprehend.
As we work together, the tension in Emery's shoulders eases, and she relaxes into my chest. I attempt to stay in the moment, but I canfeelhim staring. Damon’s frustration grows as he watches us from across the room. His fake smile falters, and he starts to work the clay with Maya more forcefully, trying to regain Emery's lost attention.
I lean closer to Emery, my tone deep, seductive. "See? It’s easy, darling. You’re a natural.” My lips feather against her lobe. “We both know you’re so very good with your hands.”
She smiles and squirms slightly in her seat. “As are you, Doctor.” Her eyelids flutter open, voice breathy as she glances up at me. “Maybe you can give me a private lesson…tonight.”
“It would be my pleasure,” I rasp. “I’m all yours, darling.”
Unable to contain his jealousy any longer, Damon slams his fist on the table. He draws the attention of everyone in the room, his face red and seething.
Emery's gaze shifts to him, and her body tenses all over again. The destructive battle between her past and her future continues. How long will this war last? Days? Weeks? Months? God forbid, years?
“We’re done here,” Damon states, abruptly standing up. He holds out his hand, a silent command for Maya to follow him. He aggressively links his fingers through hers. “Don’t disturb us. We’ll be,” his sharp gaze meets Emery’s, “busy.”
Emery’s lip twitches. “So will we.”
For a second, I resonate with Maya. Perhaps we’re both pawns. But then Emery smiles at me, so genuine and calm, and I’m determined to be a king.
Her king.
THE STEAM ROOM
EMERY
Damon’s darknessseeps into my skin. There’s no way to avoid his effect on me. On my decisions. On my emotions. Despite Quinton’s smiles and understanding voice, I know I’m causing him harm.
I’m no idiot. The way he looks at me says it all. He sees me. All of me. Every rough, jagged corner. Every dirty, deranged valley. And he sees the peaks too. The soft and gentle and airy. And I see him as well. I understand him too. It comes naturally. Like breathing. And yet, every breath I now take is heavy, thick with pain. And I’m suffocating. Almost choking on the smoke Damon’s brought inside the villa.
It’s unfortunate that I’ve always been so drawn to smoke. Craved it.
Like a fool.
"Emery," Sophie says, glancing up at me from the top of her magazine.
Quinton and his father had urgent business to deal with, leaving us alone. Damon… I don’t know where he is. He’s like a ghost. Haunting me. Never showing his true face.
"You seem tense.” She lowers the newest edition of Vogue. “Is something bothering you?”
She knows exactly what’s bothering me. I don’t blame her for doing what she did. It was wise. A calculated move to prove my worth. And here I sit, aching to catch a glimpse of his stupid fucking face. In time, I’ll corroborate her theory. I’ll show her just how worthless I really am.
“I’m fine.”
Sophie pursues her lips, displeased with my lack of honesty. “Your shoulders say otherwise.” Sighing, she returns to the magazine, casually mumbling. “There’s a spa on the mezzanine. Perhaps a steam would make you feel…more fine.”
I consider her offer. The idea of the steamdoessound nice. Anything to escape the emotional storm brewing inside me. Nodding, I rise from the plush sofa and make my way toward the spa. If nothing else, the solitude might help me gather my thoughts. That might take some time, though. They’re so scattered I can hardly piece two together.
The spa is empty as I step inside, the soft lighting creating a serene oasis. A serenity that I so desperately need to overpower all the uncertainty clawing at my chest. Mist hangs in the air, and I quickly undress and step inside the foggy room, letting the steam envelop me. Hug me. Soothe me. My body relaxes as the wet heat seeps into my skin.
Sitting on the bench, I rest my head against the tiled walls. Finally, I’m alone. Alone with nothing but questions and doubts. They flood my fickle mind like a deadly tide, and I grip the edge of the wooden bench.
Quinton or Damon? Safety or passion? Air or fire? A choice. A decision. Why is it so difficult? So complicated. Can’t I haveboth? Why can’t both elements coexist? The earth would perish without oxygen. And it would die without the sun. Is one more valuable than the other? Is one more important? More desirable?
Minutes pass as I attempt to calm my racing mind, but it’s a useless battle, one I am not equipped to fight. A part of me doesn’t want to fight.Damn it.I close my eyes and place a hand over my chest, over the faint scar that reminds me that my hatred is invalid.
What do you want, you wicked little thing?
My heart beats against my palm, erratic and unstable. At least it’s beating. In a way I’ve never experienced before. My life had been so stable, so predictable, so fucking mundane. I felt nothing for so long. And now? I feel everything. And it’s too much. It’s too fast. I never thought I’d miss the void, but that emptiness never hurt like this.
