Page 32 of Stained Protector

“It’s late,” I say, a gravelly purr recoiling to the back of my throat. “Goodnight.”

I leave her bewildered on the rug and retreat to my bedroom. Each light footstep stomps on the broken façade. It’s time for it to retire.

Immediately closing the door, I click my tongue loudly and scrub the lingering smile off my face.

I tried; I really did do my best to be who she could trust. Well, no worries, persuasion has always been a contender choice.

Hurting her means hurting me, and my bleeding heart treats her very preciously. I’ll bend her will with the proper force, but I’ll stop at the perfect spot to avoid irreversible damage.

Hopefully, everything works as planned.Hopefully.

Chapter Nine

Anya

A moth’s wings with beaded eyes stare attentively. The tarantula scuttles up the wall and turns to gawk at me with eight eyes. A yowl from a stray cat bombards the eerie night while the wind whistles hauntingly against the trees.

Levi’s house was never this scary. I have been here many times, the guards are friendly, and the front door is welcoming when he opens it. I was too busy staring at the taut muscles on his back to notice my surroundings.

Who can blame me for drooling?

The model industry is missing out on a money tree.

My fingers hover above the doorbell, eyeing the hideous spider as it crawls closer to the meandering moth by the light. I’m not risking that hairy-legged critter jumping on my hand, but it’s inappropriate to type in the passcode to my temporary home.

The uncomfortable talk from yesterday reels in my mind, slowing down the productivity of the plans I had to research apartments near my sister’s new job. I don’t want to intrude on her rekindling her love with an ex-boyfriend who she met here during a business meeting.

She won’t change, so I’ll stick to the sideline and watch her relationship eventually deteriorate from their own doings.

My jaw tightens as I ring the doorbell, praying Levi will hurry because the tarantula is tiptoeing toward me. The lock unhinges, and streams of light pierce through the ajar door.

He stands quietly, almost as if he’s wondering why I’m here when he’s the one who texted me about a parting gift. The part where he thanked me for our friendship broke my heart, and I accepted his offer to retrieve it.

His only free time is when he’s off work, so here I am in the dead of night. A lightning strike smashing the sidewalk wouldn’t get the neighbors to turn on their lights; they’re too far to even hear it, and most of them keep to themselves.

I only met one neighbor during the time I lived with Levi, and they completely ignored me. Rude, but they did have good taste in house decor. His house is expensive, and all decorations pale to its beautiful foundation.

I’m jealous of the residents and their fat bank accounts. There was a time I thought I’d take art classes and become an artist because Levi is a prime example of success.

Speaking of which, that man stresses me out. I’m confused, flustered, excited, and happy about his feelings. I just had to open my big mouth and trample on what could’ve been a great relationship.

My first one, but I have a good feeling.

“Come in,” he offers, stepping to the side.

I squeeze through as he holds the door open, intuitively putting on the pair of cream indoor slippers and hanging the light jacket on the rack. I’m going to miss the smell of paint, soft brushes, and smooth canvases.

Sucking in my bottom lip, my teeth chew on it with regret lingering in my throat.

I’m not sure why I’m this averse to being in a relationship with him. The time we spent together, memories created, and feelings nourished has my body fighting the heart throbbing in cold blood.

It’s a primal instinct. The abnormality totters in his presence, something he blurs with a beguiling smile, evolving into a twisted image of veiled evil. New sensations take me by the throat, and adrenaline folds a sash over my eyes, forcing my senses to adapt to the wild thoughts my mind conjured up to understand why a man of his caliber picked me out of a million better choices.

A game or a bet was the guess. A mean gag between hooting friends and slaps on the back.

I doubt it; the friend, or as close as he can be, was Davis, and he was not fond of Levi. He may try to act like it, but when a person is angry, they can’t hide the animosity in their aura.

I shake my head, scrapping the budding hope, and shuffle awkwardly on my feet while Levi’s scrutiny brands the nape of my neck. I rub it tensely, signaling him to stop staring, but he doesn’t and intensifies the heat boring onto the skin.

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