Page 21 of Surviving the Merge
We needed to get Damon’s permission first, Julie insisted. We were doomed before we even began if we didn’t first rebuild the trust between Damon and Blake.
Taking a break from my thoughts, I noticed that what little light had been coming through the window was beginning to die out. Blake would be home shortly. In need of a hot shower, or maybe a cold one, I piled my hair into a topknot and jogged up the stairs.
Showered, I left the bedroom to make my way to the kitchen. Passing Blake’s home office, I glimpsed him at his desk engrossed in whatever he was writing. I shot him a hello, which he didn’t acknowledge, and, smiling to myself, I made for the kitchen. He got so consumed when working. Nothing outside of his immediate focus would penetrate. Almost nothing.
Maybe I should take up cooking now that I have so much free time.That could be something I might find interesting. Imagining Blake having to come home every day and play guinea pig to my latest creation did have its own sinister appeal. My mind now turned back to seeing Blake upstairs, right hand flying rapidly across his pad of paper…
Letting go of the fridge door and backing up until my lower back hit the counter, I replayed my last thought.Right hand flying rapidly across his pad of paper...
Fuck, fuck, fuck... no, this can’t be.
Blake was left-handed.
My head snapped up to the ceiling as if my gaze could burn through it. As if it could singe past plaster and beams and bolts and nails. Giving me the power to murder my fears by showing me that what I believed to be true could not be. I needed it to be impossible. And yet, the violent beating my heart was subjected to from the blood pounding through at a dizzying speed told me that my naive desire for such power would be pointless. I already knew what I would find.
I silently passed through the dining room on tiptoe, slipping upstairs like a thief in the night. Foreboding churned away at my intestines.
I crept down the hall to his office, using my palm to push the partially closed door open while I stood out of the line of sight.
Empty.
Treading lightly over to the desk, my arm was racked with tremors as I picked up the notebook and read the two words scribbled repeatedly on the legal-sized sheet of paper…
He’s mine…
He’s mine…
He’s mine...
In slow motion, I watched the written proof of his obsession float from my fingertips to the floor. I chose not to examine the true reason for my shiver.
Where is he?
The bedroom.
Empty.
Sweat beaded at my temples.
Rooted to the spot, I closed my eyes to focus on any potential sounds, but the blood swishing through my ears got in the way.
Backtracking to the stairs, I saw him before my foot breached the top step. Damon sat casually at the head of the dining room table, his back to me as he stared outside.
Our sanctuary had been breached.
My legs didn’t feel like complying as I trudged down the stairs. I worked on leveling out my breathing, but that became impossible when I noticed that he sat there completely naked. Making it from the bottom landing to the opposite side of the table was equivalent to climbing the steepest mountain. And he wasn’t only naked—he washard.
Damon made no acknowledgment of my presence. I ended the silence. “Where’s Blake?” I winced as soon as the words escaped my lips. He lounged in his chair, one arm strewn over the back of it, like this was simply a typical day. Like him being there didn’t raise many implications.
He sat forward and entwined his hands on the table before addressing me. “Just. How I’ve missed you so.”
Anyone hearing that would think him a romantic. But I knew those eyes better than I knew my own soul. I recognized the rage barely leashed.
How should I play this?I asked myself. From the looks of it, I had only seconds to decide before he made the decision for me. With my priorities in order, I made the first move.
“I’m not having sex with you. Let’s get that straight right now. Not here, not without Blake’s consent.” Damon may have been a dominant dictator on a good day, but he would never take it,if he truly believed it wasn’t what I wanted. Even if it appeared like he did the opposite. The trick? Making myselfnotwant it.
“Come here.” The air thickened with those two words. How he managed to make two insignificant words such ascomeandheresound as violent as they did right then was anyone's guess.
