Page 7 of Call You Mine

Mystery man lets out another guttural groan, bringing me out of my wretched memories and back to the current dilemma I face.Right, it’s time to scream for help Wyn.

“Now get off me unless you want me to scream so loud that not only your eardrums burst, but all the glass windows in the building shatter to pieces.”

The fucker chuckles, tilting his head lower so his glasses slightly shift, exposing the clearest shade of green eyes I’ve ever seen. Eucalyptus, that’s the color. A grayish green shade with specks of blue marbled around the center of his irises. I swallow hard, almost forgetting what it is I just demanded he do, losing myself in the way his pupils dilate, consuming the green behind a dark cloud. The familiar green.

“Scream baby, I dare you.”Well, that’s not what I was expecting.“But first you’ll have to drop yours from mine.”

I look down at my hands flat against his chest and quickly drop them to my side, not realizing I was still touching him, my palms instantly missing the heat of his body, but he doesn’t drop his. A loud laugh comes from behind him, shifting his attention as he turns to see what’s happened. I take advantage of the distraction, thank God for those damn little kids, and lift my leg between us, ramming my knee into his groin.

Immediately he groans, hunching forward as he drops his hands to cup his prized jewels.Take that fucker. That’s what he gets for not recognizing me.

“Ugh. Fucking bitch,” he wheezes between staggered breaths.

I lean forward to meet him, cupping my hand around my ear and aiming it toward him. “A little louder, asshole. I didn’t hear you.” Of course, he doesn’t respond, still currently writhing in agony before me.

Deciding this was a mistake and that I’m done with this exchange, I stand up straight and damn fucking proud of myself as I turn to walk away, tossing my fake hair over my shoulder.

“Not so fast,” he calls out, chasing after me. Fear prickles my skin as he trails behind me, fury blazing in his eyes. Suddenly, I’m once again transported back to New York, flooded with vivid flashes of the time I spent running fromhim.

I run faster, as fast as I can in these goddamn heels, my breathing quickening as panic threatens to immobilize me.

“Run, Snow, as fast as you can. I will always find you.”

Enzo’s threat burns so fresh in my mind I can practically hear his shrill voice taunting me.

Before I can process what’s happening, he grabs me by my arm, yanking me down the hallway and through a door, slamming and locking it behind us. My back hits the door as he once again cages me against his body. This time my arms are up on either side of my head, held down by the force of his grip around my wrists.

Pain creeps up my spine. The hours I’ve spent on my feet are nearly too much to bear. “Let go of me,” I shriek as loud as humanly possible, but it only makes his tattooed fingers wrap tighter around me. Someone has to have seen him drag me in here. I’m going to be rescued.

“You think it’s okay to play little games and not be punished for them?” he mutters into the crook of my neck, rubbing the bristles of his beard along my skin.

“Please don’t…” My plea dies on my lips and I close my eyes as panic consumes me and once again my mind is transported back to my bedroom, flooded with memories of begginghimnot to touch me.

“So, you can hurt me, but I can’t touch you?” he asks, almost in disbelief, like he can’t fathom the reason this is not appropriate. I was the one who grabbed his arm first, but it was only because the asshole crashed into me and walked away, pretending like nothing had happened.

“I didn’t…You don't know who I am. I…”

He laughs, “Is that it? Are you the type of girl who has daddy throw money to make all her problems go away, Princess?”

Dread fills my entire body from my head to my toes.Princess. One simple word and my resolve comes tumbling down. He’s the only one determined to call me by that nickname.What the fuck is the matter with me? How can he not realize it’s me?

The scent of cinnamon and cigarettes tingles my nose as I breathe in deep. That’s when I know for a fact it’s him.

“Damon,” I whisper so low I’m not sure I’ve said it out loud.

Though he promptly answers my question, when he abruptly releases me, turning and walking away so fast, I catch nothing more but a glimpse of his shadow when I open my eyes. I find him across the room, leaning over a table, gripping the edge like he’s about to fall if he lets go.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, removing his sunglasses before looking back at me through the mirror on the wall in front of him.

The room is dark, all lights turned off and blinds closed shut over the windows. Pulling my own sunglasses down to the bridge of my nose, my breath hitches as I catch his reflection. Our eyes connect through the lighted mirror, and the last of my breath leaves my lungs as I watch realization consume him.

Green eyes diligently watching me, jet black hair slightly curling as it sneaks out of his beanie, and tattoos covering the entirety of his visible skin and trailing under his dark clothes.

Yet something about him looks different. The dark scruff along his chin is fuller, and although he’s always had the facial hair of a grown man, this time it’s overgrown like he hasn’t shaved in weeks. Add that to his unusual attire, a dark gray suit with a black overcoat, and he’s nothing like the man I knew who wore oversized sweatshirts and ripped jeans.

Recognition flares in his eyes but there’s still a certain air of hesitation, like if he were to reach out and touch me, I’d disappear. Like I’m nothing more than a figment of his imagination who’s come back to haunt him.

Obviously, I look different too. My platinum hair is disguised under this tacky black wig, but the flicker of realization in his eyes and the way his demeanor shifts, prove he knows it’s me.

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