I find her panties, and I bring them to my face and inhale. Then I crumple them in my fist and unzip my jeans, wrapping them around my cock.
Isabella breathes in and out, and I watch her. Choking my dick violently with her underwear. Her skin is so pale against the Raven of her hair. So pure and milky and untouched.
I have watched her for so long. I have watched the way she turns up her nose at the boys who look at her. I have read the words in her journal.
The confessions of her raw desires.
She is a virgin.
An angel.
I’ve never had the opportunity to ruin something so beautiful before.
Her hair spills over her shoulders and skates across her nipples. Small and pink and hard against the thin fabric. I want them in my mouth. I want them on my face and on my cock. I want so much to feel her from the inside. To fuck her until I can’t anymore.
This is neurosis. Fervent and miserable. The agony consumes me from the inside out.
I will destroy her. I will destroy everything divine left inside of her.
Coming on a choked sigh, I spill myself into her panties. I shove them in my pocket and keep them.
The man in me tells me to leave. The animal won’t let me. I walk to her bed and sit down beside her. She is within arm’s reach. But I won’t allow myself to touch her.
Beautiful things must be admired from afar. Beautiful things must not be touched. That’s what he always used to tell me.
He was wrong.
Chapter Eight
When I wake, I am well rested. I felt at peace if only for a few hours. The room is still dim, but a familiar scent lingers.
A scent that feels like home. One that feels like comfort.
I roll over to retrieve my phone from the nightstand but stop short. The phone isn’t there. Something else is though.
A solitary red rose.
So beautiful, so flawless, I almost don’t believe it’s real. At least until I bring the delicate petals to my face and breathe in the familiar scent of wild beauty.
And now I know for certain that I have not imagined it. The scent that always seems to surround me is not a figment of my imagination, and the rose petals at my house have not simply been carried there by the breeze.
Fear settles over me like a cold blanket as the stem falls from my fingers, the petals wilting to the floor.
If not the wind, then who?
I wrap my hands around the sheet and squeeze as my eyes dart around the shadowed room. I don’t see anyone. I don’t see a thing. But someone was here. In my room. And they left this rose right beside me.
The curtains are long and dark, and I’m too afraid of what might be hiding behind them. I’m too afraid of my own shadow right now to stay here another second.
I bolt for the door without grabbing anything. Not even a pair of shoes or my room key. Fear has taken the wheel now, and nothing is safe.
I have no idea where I’m going. What I’m doing. I just know that I need to leave. I need to get out of here. I punch the down button for the elevator repeatedly, but it’s taking too long. My mind is wild with possibilities. And it keeps circling back to one thing.
Luke.
Did he do this? Has he been playing tricks on me all along? Is he watching me right now, savoring my fear?
I can’t stand the wait. My heart is going to explode. My lungs are going to give out. Already, I can feel the air slipping away.