Page 56 of Ink Deep Devotion

No verbal replies came; instead, stern feet walk towards my locked door.“Mila is sleeping,” Amanda shouts in hope.“You want to hang out?”

My door opens, and Dash’s face appears as he withdraws the key he used to open my door.

He came!

Slam!He shuts the door in Amanda’s face.

The silence, nothing but his bitter glare, slithers up my body until it wraps tightly around my neck. Even in the dark, I can see his chest heaving, fist clenching as if he’s trying to stay in control.

I want the lights on. I need to see his face.“Da.. Dash.” Oh no. I wish I hadn’t lost my voice, but I’m scared one wrong word or reaction will shove him over the cliff.

He came. This is good, right?

Time erodes. I’m time to Dash King. My presence is licking away his layers. Damian was right. The question is, how much time does Dash need? How long can I endure these games?

Just like the first time he came to Empire, he’s sneaking into my room again. This is a new game. It’s both his self-inflicted torture and healing balm. He’s allowing himself to see me but not fully have me. It’s cruel yet calming because I know he still craves me.

He retreats, but I advance in bed, ending up on my knees.The blanket drops, revealing my yellow sleeping shirt, which looks more grey under the night’s dark shadows.

Another step. Thud! His back hits the wall, and his knees buckle as he sinks to the floor.

I don’t know what to do. I want to run to him. I move, but his head whips up.“Stay in bed!”

I jerk back, knees shaking against the mattress.

“Go…” he exhales as if he’s been running a marathon.

Why do I get the feeling he ran as far away from me as possible before he was compelled to turn around and run right towards me?

“Go to bed!” He yells.

I linger, unmoving, fighting between what I want and his demands.

“Go to bed, Mila!”

My swallow sounds loud as I sit back down on the bed.“Co…come with me,” I offer now, happy it’s dark so he doesn’t see my tears.

His head leans back against the wall, knees up, and he rubs his temples in pain.“I need you to sleep so I can!” he shouts.“Don’t you understand? I need to sleep! I need to know you’re in this bed, sleeping, so I can rest.”

Guilt floods me.“You don’t want me to see the emotions covering your face; you want to be with me in my bed, but you don’t know how. Let me help you. I’m not hurt anymore, Dash. Let’s start over. We both made terrible mistakes but the worst would be ignoring the love we have for one another.” I beg him to start over, like we did in the showers. Just wash away the past, put it to bed, and wake up differently.

It’s a shame that changing the wings of the devil isn’t as easy as it seems. How do I paint something white when the darkness continues to stain every attempt?

“Go. To. Sleep.” He sounds so exhausted and broken. I lick my lips, catching my own tears on my tongue.

Our love was like a cactus, dense and thorny, perplexing. It was not pretty or fragile like petals, but it was not ugly either; it was just different.

We tried to water it and force it to grow strong enough to withstand the intensity of our world. But we forced it; over watered the roots. We were trying to prepare for the drought, forgetting to realize we never had to prepare because we were designed to survive a life without love.

What was supposed to nourish us turned soppy and moldy. It became a sickness that weakened us.

Maybe if I starve us, all the sickness will dry up, and then we can start again. I’ll be more careful this time, watering only when needed. Maybe we can salvage something. It might not be love or hate, just something that can make this life tolerable.

I’ll try, and I’ll be patient for as long as my heart can handle it. I do as he says, resting my head on the pillow and closing my eyes.“It’s okay to be scared, Dash.”

“I’m not scared. I’m tired.” The anger in his voice is gone, replaced with a lethargic calmness.

“So am I,” I slide my hand under my pillow as I curl up into a tight ball.“but I fear I can only sleep peacefully when you're in bed with me.”

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