Page 4 of His Dark Pull

I get up slowly and look for my clothes. I find them hanging neatly and dryly in the bathroom.Hadhedone it?

My reflection in the full-length mirror mocks me – tangled hair, flushed cheeks, and kiss-swollen lips that still tingle from his touch. My face burns, and my chest tightens. I know I should leave, escape the gravitational pull of this man and the world he inhabits. Yet, as I trace the outline of my lips with trembling fingers, a flicker of hope ignites within me. Maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

Don’t be stupid, Ava. Men like that never change.

The distant hum of Port Haven’s streets seeps through the heavy curtains. I walk towards the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sprawling cityscape stretchingoutbefore me like a glittering ocean.Instead of awe, a suffocating feeling of being trapped, of beingin over my head,tightens around my chest.

With each piece of clothing I put on, I build a wall around my heart, a futile attempt to shield myself from the emotional pain I know awaits me. The scent of his cologne lingers in the air, a phantom caress that sends goosebumps erupting across my skin. Closing my eyes, I inhale.

Calm, Ava, this is nothing, just a one-night adventure.

There’s a note on the bedside table, scrawled in his bold handwriting, mocking me with its casualness.

“I’ll be right back.”

Does he expect me to wait? Does he think a few scribbled words can erase the years of pain, the silent void he left in his wake?A part of me, the foolish, hopefulpart, yearns to believe him, tosurrender to his intoxicating presence.

With trembling hands, I gather my things, each item a brick of the walls I am rebuilding around my heart. The rain has returned, drumming against the windows like a mournful dirge.

For weeks, whispers of his return have haunted me, snippets of conversations overheard, names dropped in passing. Denial has been my shield, but last night, when his message arrived, a simple“Come,”I knew I couldn’t ignore the pull any longer.

I glance at the empty bed one last time, a silent farewell to the man who holds a piece of my soul captive.

Leaving is the only option; the only way to protect myself from the hurricane that isAlexander Bourne. And yet, as I step out into the rain-soaked street, I know a part of me willforeverremain within those walls, forever entangled with the man who has both broken and mended my heart.

Chapter 2

The Rain

I sink into the familiar comfort of my bed, the soft cotton sheets, so different from the luxurious silky, but now alien, sheets in Alexander’s townhouse.As the daywears on, Alexander’s touchalreadyseems like a distant memory.The connection we shared earlier feels like a fleeting momentin time, fading with each passing hour. The rain continues its gentle patter against the window, a lulling rhythm that usually brings peace. But today, it feels like a mockery.

How much can it rain in Port Haven? Damn it.

My fingers involuntarily trace the outline of my lips, still tingling from his touch as I recall the previous night. The way his hands explored my body, the desperate hunger in his kisses, the raw vulnerability in his eyes when he confessed he missed me— The thoughts leave me both exhilarated and ashamed.

Those eyes, usually so cold and guarded, softened as he looked at me, a flicker of the man I fell in love with all those years ago shining through.The man who drew me in with his quiet intensity,hissharp wit, and the way he saw through my facade,recognizingthe insecurities I tried so hard to hide.Even then, there was a darkness about him, a hint of secrets and pain buried deep within. He never spoke of his pastnor hisjob, but the shadows in his eyes told a story of loss.

I should know.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I try to regain control, inhaling the comforting scent of home – laundry detergent and the faint trace of vanilla from a forgotten candle. My gaze drifts towards the ceiling, the plain white surface contrasting with the ornate details of Alexander’s mansion. Sunday evening, the weekend fading away, and a new week loomingahead. A week, I have to face with my choice to leave his house before he returned.

I push the button, and the radio on my bedside table crackles to life. The cheerful voice of the afternoon show host is jarringly at odds with the somber mood that has settled over the city.

“And in other news,” the host announces, his tone shifting to a more serious note, “another violent robbery took place downtown last night, the latest in a string of attacks attributed to theVeles Network.Police Chief Harvey Fletcher assures the public that they are doing everything possible to apprehendthe perpetrators and bring themto justice.”

Tyler’s father, I think, making my heart pound faster. Harvey Fletcher is a man of integrity, a dedicated officer who has devoted his life to protecting the city. But even he seems powerless to stop the rising tide of violence that has risen in Port Haven.

I reach over and switch off the radio.I can’t hear this right now,and there are too many things tothink about: work, Alexander, Tyler. The two men wage war in my mind.

Isit justthe thrill of the forbidden, the danger Alexander represents, that draws me in? Or is there something more? With Tyler, it is like looking into a calm lake – peaceful, predictable, but lacking depth. But with Alexander, I am diving into an ocean— turbulent, dangerous, but filled with an uncharted beauty thatbothterrifies and enthralls me. He’s a storm cloud promisingbothdestruction and an intoxicating sense of power.I know it is wrong, but a part of me, a partI have kept hidden for years,crave the storm he promises.

The memory of Alexander’s touch makes my groin burn with pleasure. My thoughts drift towards him. His world is one of shadows and secrets, where the lines between right and wrong are blurred.

He seemed happy to see me.

Histouch,rough yet tender,held a hint of desperation, as if he was trying to make up for lost time, for the years he was absent from my life.Years that remain shrouded in mystery, his reasons for leaving a secret he keeps.

The rain thickens, each raindrop a tear I refuse to let fall. Then, as if summoned by my turmoil, my phone buzzes. Tyler’s name illuminates the screen, and my stomach lurches. Avoiding his call will onlymake things worse, so I answer, forcing a lightness into my voice that I don’t feel.

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