Page 14 of Finding Haven
Maybe she’s right. Maybe there’s a lot more to him than what he shows on the surface, but he’s not the only one with silent demons pressing down on their shoulders. Way too many people let the darkness they’ve experienced cloud over every ounce of light that comes their way.
I’ve always strived to not let the darkness win when there are so many glimmers of light if we just open our eyes to see. It would be so easy to let my diabetes be a never-ending storm cloud hovering over my head or a reason to be constantly miserable. I’ll admit that there are days when I’m exhausted from dealing with endless alarms and beeps all night long or sick of feeling shaky and dizzy when I mess up my carbohydrate calculations. Don’t even get me started on the math of it all! I feel like I do more math in one week than most people do in an entire month, but I have a choice, and I choose every day to see it as just another challenge to face. One more thing I get to overcome that has made me the person I am today.
11
Zack
Ididn’texpecttosee her again. The woman from the hotel bar has been stuck in my head since that night, just as much as the masked blonde I discovered on Frisk. I’m fairly convinced they are one and the same, and I’m not sure why that bit of information makes me that much more interested in her.
Somehow, knowing that she’s not as perfect as she portrays herself in her photos and videos makes me want her even more viscerally. But what kind of man would I be if I allowed a woman like her, someone who radiates pure sunshine, to be eclipsed by the darkness that consumes every part of my soul?
If they are the same and she has an online account specifically geared towards sex and pleasure? The thought of it has something within me writhing with intrigue.
My body recognized her presence the moment she stumbled into the bakery. It felt like an electric current flared to life beneath my skin, simultaneously sharpening my senses and halting my focus. Ace had to snap me out of her trance with a curt “Mercer!” obviously noting the source of my distraction. That man doesn’t miss a thing.
Quinn.
Her name is Quinn.
I’d heard the owner, Chelsea, greet her. And now I’m going to become that bakery’s best damn customer. At least until I find a way to get her out of my system.
Pulling up SugarQueen’s account on Frisk probably isn’t a step in the right direction, but I need another look at her. My brain needs to finalize the connection between Sugar and Quinn, as if the similarities aren’t proof enough. Quinn dropped a clean glucose testing strip that night. A silly little thing that I have been carrying around in my pocket and fidgeting with, hoping it will somehow bring me closer to her. Sugar had a continuous glucose monitor on her arm and, if my eyes weren’t deceiving me, an insulin pump on her upper thigh.
What are the odds that both women who have captured my attention have diabetes? Attention I am not even sure I have to give. A relationship is one of the last things on my mind, yet I can’t deny this incessant pull towards her.
Scrolling through Sugar’s recent photos, my eyes catch on one in particular where she is wearing a muted pink sweater slipping off of one shoulder—the same sweater that Quinn was wearing the night I met her. If I hadn’t met her that night, I would probably swipe right past it. The sweater dips just low enough to show a bit of cleavage, amplified with her arm placed strategically under her breasts. The plump cupid’s bow of her top lip appears slick like she had just applied a coat of that glossy shit women tend to wear or swiped her tongue across her lips. Both of which have me imagining what it would be like to have those sinful lips wrapped around my cock.
If I wasn’t trained to watch patterns and hadn’t spent the last five years with the Legion, and several years before that with the police forcemaking a career of noticing small details, I would likely have ignored all of the coincidences. But all of my training and the ingrained thought processes come roaring back.
It’s been years since I’ve felt drawn towards another person, since I’veallowedmyself to feel any kind of pull. The feeling is a foreign weight in my chest, an uncomfortable sensation balancing precariously between pain and pleasure. The potential for heartbreak is what’s truly terrifying. She has been on my mind ever since the night at the bar. As soon as she slid onto the chair beside me and started a conversation between us after finding her date suddenly gone, I knew she was different. And then I found her account on Frisk, completely by coincidence, and…
Fuck, I can’t believe I did that.
That night was exhilarating and so fucking far out of my comfort zone, but as soon as she mentioned that someone could pay for a private session during her stream, I couldn’t let anyone else steal the opportunity from me. It’s not even the desire I felt for her that has the night ingrained in my brain. When I heard three loud beeps ring out in succession and watched her carefully structured image of sex appeal falter, I saw a glimpse of the woman beneath the facade. The one that isn’t perfectly posed or edited. I heard her groans, huffs, and comments of frustration and annoyance as soon as she disappeared off-camera and knew that I was going to change the course of our private session.
When she returned, I watched her attempt to get things back on track, but the nerves wracking through her body were evident. As much as I needed the release and wanted her to be the one to give it to me, more than anything else, I wanted her to feel comfortable and respected. Thelast thing she needed was some faceless creep forcing her back into a play scene when her mind and body had clearly been derailed.
We spent the rest of the allotted session time simply talking. Nothing too deep. I don’t think either of us were ready for that. But still, it was nice to have a conversation with someone who doesn’t know about the demons lurking in the recesses of my mind. Someone who isn’t aware of the hell I’ve been through.
A notification pops up on the screen as I’m scrolling, announcing a new video has been posted. My imagination runs rampant with what she could have possibly filmed herself doing, but when I move to click on it, I hesitate.
Now that I know who she is, am I crossing a line by being a subscriber? How would she feel if she knew who I was? The fact that she wears a mask, albeit a lace one, tells me that she wants to remain anonymous. She doesn’t want her subscribers to know who she is outside of the app.
I don’t even know if she remembers me given the way she walked right past me at the bakery. Then again, she did seem out of sorts and may not have even seen me standing there. I thought about going back to the bakery right after I left, but I couldn’t come up with a valid reason for it. The owner would likely assume I was there because of the cameras, but they’re working just fine.
As ridiculous as it sounds, Ace has given me orders to monitor the bakery’s security feed. Apparently, the owner is connected to his latest assignment, and he’s concerned about her safety. I can’t complain, though; it gives me a reason to look in on Quinn. Not that I intend on doing it often. I just need to get her out of my system.
Exposure therapy seems like a valid way to do that, right?
I heave a sigh and close out of the app, placing my phone face-down on my desk. A sinking feeling settles in my gut at the thought of watching whatever her new video contains. I want her, but I can’t have her. Ishouldn’twant her. If I’ve learned anything over the last few years, it’s that I’m perfectly capable of living a life of near solitude. I can get off with a hot stranger when I'm craving a release, but aside from that, I do just fine by myself.
I don’t need anyone, and I certainly don’t trust anyone. Not with my heart.
My fingers itch to open the app again, my cock already interested in what her new video might contain. With a growl of frustration, I shove away from my desk and stand, walking over to the large wall of screens. Each one shows a different area of the hotel. While the Elysian is a fully functional hotel, the Legion keeps several rooms available at all times for rescued victims who need a safe place to stay. I’ve got surveillance running in key areas twenty-four-seven, and even when I’m not present, I have a few members of my security team on the premises ensuring everyone is safe.
I can feel my phone taunting me from where it sits on my desk, like a favorite candy that I’ve been told I can’t have.
It’s been five fucking years since I left my hometown. Five years since I finally escaped Tiffany’s insanity. Five years since I’ve allowed myself to trulyfeelanything for a woman. Yet this one has me in her clutches and has no idea.
