Page 41 of Between Dusk and Dawn

"If we just met and none of our past happened. If my sister didn’t want your blood spilled"—I flinched at his statement—"if none of this happened, would you consider my request?"

I pondered it for a moment. "If we were strangers and you randomly approached me, asking me to marry you?"

"Yes," he murmured. His hand ascended to my face, sweeping locks of hair off my forehead.

So much needed to be said, but our shared history and undeniable connection loomed at large. It was a burning fire, both enthralling and addictive, created by forces beyond control. Like a ball of fire, it warmed instantly, making us feel alive, yet dared us not to let it grow out of control.

"If it was just us in another time?" I sought clarification.

"Yes, Muse," he whispered, lowering to hover his lips over mine. He remained still, and for a fleeting moment, I stood before the devil, craving a taste, yearning to be enveloped in his shadows and comforted by the darkness he exuded. Yet I knew it was too good to be true.

"You know the answer to that," I murmured. I had spent years trying to mend what was broken while he sought me out only when it suited him.

"Say it," he demanded. "In another time, would you consider my offer?"

A chance to reclaim my power? A house in the city? A man who'd protect me at all costs? Was that truly the debate I found myself in? The answer seemed so obvious.

"Of course, I would."

"Would you marry me, Muse?"

A pregnant pause lingered. "Yes."

"That's all I needed to know."

"That's not fair!" I shouted as he exited the house. Barefoot, I ran down the drive, the rocks wreaking havoc on my feet. "This isn't a fair request, Walsh."

He said nothing, but I continued to shout after him. "Go ahead and leave, that is what you do best. I hope when you get married to this new girl, you leave me the hell alone. This has been years of pure torture, and I cannot deal with it anymore."

I sank to my knees, tears streaming down my face. Amidst the torrential rain, I knelt on the cold gravel, my heart and mind at war. For a year, I’d sought retribution against him—the one who dismantled my grandmother's teachings, sabotaged my status, and destroyed my future. He left me to the vultures of loneliness.

As he disappeared into the night, a storm raged within me. His magnetic darkness, the allure of his forbidden world and Mafia ties, heightened the intrigue. The devil himself had danced into my life, leaving chaos.

It was a mix of revenge, rejection, and an inexplicable pull toward Walsh Solis. My hatred intertwined with an unsettling attraction, like two opposing forces in a relentless dance. Despite the pain, a part of me still yearned for him.

The devil had made his offer, and each raindrop echoed my conflicted heart. In mere moments, the revelation crashed over me: Walsh's mention of an impending marriage pierced through my defenses, leaving a sickening churn in my stomach.

The finality of our encounter left me disoriented. Walsh moving on, ready to commit to another, struck me hard. The image of him with someone new, stepping into a life that could have been mine, haunted my thoughts. The ache in my chest intensified as I grappled with a sense of loss and regret.

The walls that once shielded me from him now suffocated me with conflicting emotions. His entire family hated me; there was no world where we could work together, yet I yearned for the darkness slipping away. The devil had departed, leaving a void.

In those fleeting moments, I questioned whether I mourned the loss of him or the chaotic dance we shared.

I walked over to my small closet on the other side of the bed, opening the accordion doors. My thought was to get into something warm and pass out, but adrenaline coursed through my veins and I knew I’d never get to sleep.

But I also knew if I stayed here, lying in bed waiting for sleep to consume me, my thoughts would drive me mad. I’d be stuck here remembering how my father and mother would make me feel insignificant. I’d be stuck in a cycle of remembering my house burning down and the smell of gasoline torching my precious stuffed animals as I ran out of the house down the block.

I’ll never forget the one fire that my parents set that sent me fleeing as I grasped for any of my toys, getting burned in the process. The vivid images of fire stayed in my mind. The sounds of crackling pain as the fire burned me was something I never wanted to imagine again.

"Fuck it," I said, grabbing a pair of flared jeans and an oversized cream-colored sweater. "I’m going to get drunk."

I grabbed my keys and stuffed them into the front pocket of my jeans, then put my phone in my back pocket. I walked out of the guesthouse, slamming the door behind me, leaving it unlocked. Because whatever loomed in the darkness, I was no longer scared of. There was nothing that could terrify me anymore. I’d seen it all.

As I approached Main Street, the bar had a huge "Temporarily Closed" sign on the front of the building.

"Serves him right," I muttered as I walked down the street until I got to another bar. This one was far more popular since it was more in the hub of town, which I didn’t love, but if it had liquor, it would do.

I sat in a corner seat at the huge center bar top, away from the fraternities that had piled in to watch the game on the dozens of TVs playing a variety of sports games hanging on the walls.

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