Page 87 of Make You Mine

A name.

That’s what it says, what all of them say.

Devon. Devon. Devon. Devon.

“More like a demon,” I spit out, frowning at my reflection in the mirror.

I don’t know any Devon. So, who the fuck is Devon? Why did he think he had any right to mark me this way? By covering my whole body in fake tattoos?

I open the shower back and jump in, covering myself in soap. Rubbing my chest first, moving on to my legs, my thighs, my pussy. I rub and rub until it hurts.

After ten minutes of stubbornness, I’m sore. Only some parts of the writing have peeled off, while others stuck on me as if they belong in my body. Groaning, I give up for now. Whatever material this Devon used for these tattoos, is very resistant. He spent a lot of time on this, making sure I’m marked. Having his name on me.

Like I’m his property.

I don’t know if it’s because I’m still high from yesterday, or because I’m half-awake, but it takes me this long to understand who the hell Devon is.

And I run to my room.

The feed. The camera I installed.

Devon is my fucking stalker. The psycho who’s been calling me his wife. He was here last night.

And I’m certain I fucked it up. Because I was letting Kayden give me orgasms with his mouth when I should have been waiting for him.

I slept like a fucking baby through his visit. Mind completely distracted and plan forgotten.

I’m an idiot.

I snatch my phone from my nightstand and click on the spy camera app.

Wait for it to load the footage.

Nothing new to see.

My heart sinks.

There are no recordings. Devon wiped them.

Of course, he wouldn’t let himself be caught this easily. I was being naive.

Stupid, stupid, Maddy.

There’s no winning here.

I planned it all perfectly. Bought the new diary, wrote down the fantasy. Okay, I may have done something I shouldn’t have along the way, but I still spent the night alone. I was technically ready for him.

And instead of going through with my asking, he covered me up in tattoos.

He’s jealous.

It’s romantic, in a twisted kind of way, claiming me as his. But if he wants me so much, why is he hiding?

Things would be so much easier if he let me see him and decide for myself if he is the one for me.

God knows I’m no saint.

I don’t want to admit that I’m attracted to this tormenting and alarming behavior, to his red flags. The darkness he brings to my life.