Page 59 of My Bloody Valentine

The hunger for her grows with each empty location we check. My girl thinks she can hide from me? She should know better. I’ve tasted her fear, her desire. I know exactly what she craves.

No one escapes Adrian Vale.

25

MAYA

Icurl up on Amelia’s plush couch, wrapping myself in her soft throw blanket. The morning sun filters through her living room windows, but I can’t shake the chill that’s settled deep in my bones.

My tongue aches for the taste of Adrian’s chocolates. The way they melted, the layers of emotion, the... No. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out why they are so special.

“Get it together,” I mutter, reaching for my fourth cup of coffee. The mug clatters against the side table as I set it down. These tremors have been getting worse.

My phone buzzes. I had to order a new one since Adrian still has my old one. It’s another text from my editor asking about the upcoming restaurant review. I silence it without responding. The thought of tasting anything right now makes my stomach turn. Everything tastes like cardboard compared to...

A wave of nausea hits me, and I rush to Amelia’s bathroom, barely making it in time. As I rinse my mouth, I catch my reflection in the mirror. Dark circles ring my eyes, my skin pale and clammy. I look like an addict going through withdrawal.

Maybe I am. My mind is tangled with the cravings for Adrian’s touch, voice, and chocolates. My body remembers every sensation and taste.

I shuffle back to the couch, grateful Amelia’s at work. She’s been supportive, but I can’t stand the worry in her eyes when she looks at me. She keeps suggesting I talk to someone and report him to the police. She doesn’t understand how deep this goes.

My fingers trace the fading marks on my neck, and heat floods my core. Even now, after everything, my body betrays me with want. I curl tighter into the blanket, trying to focus on the mundane details of Amelia’s apartment—her art supplies scattered across the coffee table, the half-finished painting on the easel, anything to anchor me to reality.

But in the quiet of her empty apartment, Adrian’s presence haunts me like a ghost I can’t shake.

A knock at the door jolts me from my spiraling thoughts. My heart stops—I know that precise, measured rhythm. Three sharp raps, evenly spaced.

“No,” I whisper, frozen on Amelia’s couch. “It’s not possible.”

But when I peer through the peephole, Adrian stands in the hallway, impeccable in his charcoal suit. His blue eyes seem to look straight through the door, through me.

My fingers tremble on the doorknob. Did my desperate thoughts somehow summon him here? The metal feels ice-cold against my palm as I open the door.

“Little critic.” His voice wraps around me like silk. “Did you really think you could hide from me?”

The scent of chocolate and leather floods my senses. My knees weaken as memories crash over me—his hands, his mouth, the taste of his creations.

“How did you—” My voice cracks. I grip the doorframe to steady myself.

“I know everything about you, Maya.” He doesn’t move closer; he doesn’t need to. His presence fills the entire doorway, the whole hallway.

Fear traces an icy path down my spine. Of course he knows. He’s probably known all along, letting me believe I had some measure of control by running here.

“Was it the chocolate?” I ask, hating how my voice shakes. “Did you put something in it to make me... to make me want...”

His smile is razor-sharp. “The only thing in my chocolates is truth, Maya. Your truth. Our truth.”

My breath halts as Adrian’s polished veneer cracks. His fingers dig into the doorframe, knuckles white with tension. Gone is the sophisticated chocolatier—in his place stands a predator.

“You ran from me.” His voice comes out rough. Every syllable caresses my spine like ice.

I back away into Amelia’s apartment, but Adrian matches my retreat step for step. The door clicks shut behind him.

“I had to.” My voice trembles. “What you do—what we did?—”

“What we did was embrace our true nature.” He stalks closer, and I feel the heat radiating from his body. “Stop fighting it, Maya.”

My back hits the wall. Adrian cages me with his arms, his scent—chocolate, leather, and male—overwhelming my senses. My body betrays me, responding to his proximity with a rush of heat.

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