Page 36 of Up in Flames

Your Makaylie.

I figure putting ‘Your Makaylie’ at the end might make him a little more appreciative of his whole stance on mebelonging to him, which is a sore point, but for now, I’m willing to ease on it a bit if it will get him to speak to me. Hitting send, I sit back and wait—but nothing.

He doesn’t reply.

He doesn’t call.

And as I sit and wait for a reply that doesn’t come, instead of growing anxious and upset, my stomach twists in another way, and anger flairs again.

The bastard is being one hundred percent unreasonable!

I wish I knew his apartment number.

For a moment, a brief flash of insanity takes over my mind as I think about taking each floor and knocking on every door until I find him, but that thought quickly fades as my anger steadily grows. Making my way over to the sofa, I sit with my head in my hands. How can someone—who has only been in my life for a couple of weeks—make me feel so lost without him? Even though he tests my limits and pushes the boundaries of a typical relationship, I mourn the loss of him.

My emotions are all over the place.

I want to hate him—hate him for wanting to claim me as his.

Making a bold statement that I don’t have control over my life isnotsomething I want. But then losing him altogether isnotwhat I want either. Plus, losing him over a confusion like Joey is quite simply just stupidity.

My mind is a mess.

I don’t know whether to cry, throw something, or drink a fifth of vodka.

This guy is making me crazy.

How can this man have that much of an effect on me?

It’s not possible, is it?

I think back to my life pre-Cain. It was boring and uneventful. I was plodding along through life, waiting for inspiration to hit, and when it did appear in the form of Cain, I knew my life would never be the same.

So now, post-Cain, my life seems even worse.

I’m left feeling empty with the thought of my existence from now on without him.

Without my muse.

Without the excitement.

Without the drama.

Sighing, I slump, falling back onto the sofa, and spend the rest of the day lounging around the apartment. Every noise, every movement, gets my hopes up that he’s come back.

But he doesn’t.

Maybe it is a good thing.

I doubt he’ll change his stance on his stupid ownership rules, and I doubt I will want to change mine on giving up my freedom.

So where does that leave us?

CHAPTER NINE

CAIN

I’m fuming.

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