I wonder what that was all about. As I wander back into the kitchen and grab a fancy bottle of sparkling water, I’m shocked to see the time on the clock is four in the morning.
One of the ‘boys’ from earlier comes over and says in heavily accented English, “I’m to take you back, Miss.”
“Oh,” I mutter as my stomach falls to my knees. I thought Luke would be returning me to my hotel or even ask me to stay. I seem to have a new and terrible effect on men.
They give me an incredible orgasm—or two—and in return, they run screaming for the hills. Apparently, I have a King Midas in reverse pussy where it’s turning all my love interests to shit.
Schooling my face into a flat mask, I follow the strongman out, back down the elevator, and climb into one of the SUVs from earlier. I tell him the name of my hotel and stare out the window until we pull up a brief time later. I numbly walk through the lobby, into yet another elevator, and trudge to my room.
Physically and emotionally wrung out, I pull up the hotel app on my phone, request a late checkout, and set an alarm for noon. I peel off my clothes, draping my damp jeans over the back of the chair, and leave the destroyed fishnets and wet panties in a heap on the floor.
I flop face down onto the bed and drag the other side of the comforter over my body, too tired to even crawl under the covers.
Iclench my teeth so hard I’m surprised they don’t crack. Looking at my ‘sister’ is like looking in a mirror and seeing a female version of myself staring back.
She's the only one who has ever dared to challenge me, and for that, I begrudgingly tolerate her. I can only stand so much kowtowing and usually that is all I am surrounded by. Where’s the fun in that?
Idly, I watch her pace back and forth in front of me, clutching the poor black cat to her chest. I almost feel sorry for the creature as it wisely tolerates her grip, merely twitching its tail.
I’ll let her wear herself out. It's the most effective path of least resistance. I’m thankful she is winding down, but when she drops the cat, who wisely slinks away, and wrenches open the door to see the girl lurking there, she starts back in all over again.
Thinking I should have escaped with the creature while the getting out was good, I roll my eyes at just how long eternity is. She spins around, catching me in the act.
“Infatuation is not a good look on you,” she hisses, glaring at me with fire in her yellow-green stare, a mirror of my own. She is so beautiful when she is angry–those perfect lips drawn into a pout, cheeks flushed, heaving bosom, hands on hips.
I could give a fuck about her beauty. It’s her soul that is so exquisitely ugly, so stained and delicious, that calls to me. Lucky for her, she continues to entertain me, but my tolerance is waning with her criticism.
I scoff in disagreement. I am resolutely not infatuated. However, for the first time in an exceedingly long time, I’m mildly curious about something besides winning.
Maybe.
But I’d never admit it. Especially to her.
“Don’t be such a cunt. The only thing of interest to me is winning,” I sneer. “And I. Will. Win.”
I punctuate each word with a step closer to her until I invade her space, looming over her petite frame. She cowers the slightest bit, so marginally that only I who know her so well could even spot it.
Buoyed by the trace of fear I can smell, I spin and walk away from the more annoying, and honestly more viscous, version of myself. I close the door behind me just as something smashes into it, shattering.
I roll my eyes and leave her to her tantrum. I’ll go play with someone else. There are more than enough who are willing to feed my monster.
From the corner of her hotel room, deep in the shadows, I watch. I don’t trust myself to get in the bed with her again, knowing the smell of that fucking bastard on her skin would drive me insane until I claimed her as mine, covering every square inch of her with my touch to erase his.
I stay suspended in particle form, my restraint a hair's breadth away from snapping, unable to trust myself as a man right now. She rolls over, quietly mumbling in her sleep, and the comforter she hastily threw over herself slips off her shoulders, revealing the creamy expanse of her back to me.
Seeing his mark desecrating the perfection of her skin fills me with boiling hot rage. My world narrows to a tunnel vision of that damn raven, inky evil black, wrenching away the last vestiges of my control.
Before I destroy this city in my anger, I must leave, lest myRozabe caught in the crossfire. Her safety is the only thing that anchors me in this moment as my sanity balances on a razor thin edge of rage and revenge.
Dreams of drowning in red attempt to pull me under as so much of his presence is in this room, filling my nose, my mouth, my lungs until I can’t breathe. Escape the only option, I slither over her skin, goosebumps rising in my wake, and filter out under the door.
Ibolt upright in bed, disoriented in the dark room, heart racing. Wildly, I look around and realize I’m in my hotel room. Eyeing the clock, I’m thankful to see I have an hour yet until checkout, even though now I’m too wired to go back to sleep.
I turn off the alarm on my phone since I’m already up and stumble into the bathroom, cringing at my reflection in the mirror. My hair is reminiscent of Medusa and my makeup is making its way diagonally off my face.
I decide to take a quick shower to work on this mess and clear my head for the drive home today. This hotel has their signature scent down, but I’d need about ten of their little conditioner bottles to get my hair back under control.
I do the best I can with the provided toiletries since I hadn’t planned on showering here on such a short trip. After I wrestle as much conditioner as possible from the tiny bottle and into my hair, I wash off the remnants of yesterday’s glamorous makeup.
