38. Princess Davina
Chapter 38
Princess Davina
“I love you not because of who you are,
but because of who I am when I am with you.”
— Roy Croft
T he weight of my confession lingers in the air as his eyes are locked on mine, holding me captive.
I hate how I can’t bring myself to hate him.
The sincerity in his eyes makes me believe that maybe, just maybe, I could let my guard down and allow myself to be held, to be loved.
I can almost hear the thudding of my own heartbeat as I rest my hand on his that is now placed on my cheek. My breath mingles with his, the urge to kiss him too much to bear, almost desperate.
Just as I’m about to close the distance, his hand moves up, and his fingers thread through my hair with a gentle yet firm grip. He pulls my head back slightly, stopping me from closing the gap, and the sudden shift in position leaves me breathless.
I’m trapped in his gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and longing. The moment stretches, filled with a charged silence that feels both thrilling and agonizing. My pulse races, and my thoughts whirl as I wait for him to say something.
When he remains silent, a wave of mortification washes over me. “You don’t want to kiss me,” I say, the words escaping before I can stop them.
Why won’t he let me in?
“I don’t want to rush this,” he says, his voice strained and tinged with frustration. “I’m caught between wanting to hold you close, and fearing the consequences if I do. I just want it to be right, Davina. I want to be worthy of you?—”
“So you think it’s okay to shower me with these grand words and then act like this?” I feel a pang of disappointment, quickly overshadowed by anger. My voice rises, sharp and accusing. “You know what? You’re incredibly selfish.”
He flinches, a shadow of guilt passing over his face.
He opens his mouth, but I’m not finished. “If you want to be worthy of me, then start by being honest and decisive. Don’t play games with me.”
He looks away, as if struggling to find the right word.
I scoff, my anger burning hot and my heart aching with the sting of his behavior.
Suddenly, a wave of dizziness crashes over me. My vision blurs, the edges of the room turning into a whirlwind of colors and shadows.
Something feels off.
I blink rapidly, trying to steady myself, but the spinning only intensifies, and my breaths come in shallow, ragged bursts.
I can hear his voice, tinged with concern, cutting through the disorienting haze. “Are you alright?” His voice is laced with panic now. “—look so pale.”
I don’t trust myself to speak, so I just shove myself off his lap, stumbling away as I try to regain my footing.
My anger, though still burning, feels distant now, overshadowed by the dizziness that grips me.
I glare at him, furious and frustrated. “Look at you.” I let out a humorless laugh. “You’re so indecisive that you’ve got me spinning in circles—literally.”
His face contorts with guilt and worry, and I stumble, feeling the room close in around me. My heart races, and I can barely focus on his increasingly panicked face.
I manage to find a nearby chair and collapse into it, my head spinning uncontrollably. I grip the armrests, trying to steady myself, but the dizziness and the whirlwind of emotions make it nearly impossible.
Something is off.
“I believe it would be best if you left now,” I manage.
“You look?—”
“No,” I yell, raising a hand to cut him off. “Don’t.”
He blows out a frustrated breath, rubbing his hands over his face. “I?—”
“I’m not some foolish little girl?—”
“—not foolish, I am the fool.”
My jaw begins to tremble, and the first tears roll down my cheeks. I immediately wipe them away, refusing to cry in front of him again.
“—don’t cry,” I hear him say, his voice cracking. “I’m not worth crying for.”
“Don’t act like you give a fuck about me?—”
“I give a fuck,” he shouts. “—lots of fucks, actually.”
The room feels like it’s collapsing around me, my heart pounding so fast I can hardly breathe.
“Leave!” I scream, my voice raw with desperation. “Just leave!”
Cole’s face blurs through my tears as I scream at him. Before I can process what’s happening, he’s moving towards me with an urgency that both confuses and terrifies me.
The room seems to spin even faster as his lips crash onto mine. I clutch at him, my fingers digging into his shirt. A gasp climbs up my throat and escapes me when his tongue slides into my mouth. He lets out a quiet noise of satisfaction, and I melt, absorbing it like an addict.
His hands roam, and before I can fully grasp what’s happening, arms encircle and lift me, settling me onto his lap as he sits down on the bed. Hands slide up beneath my dress and caress my thighs, and my breaths comes in uneven, shuddering gasps.
I’m wrapped in a haze of euphoria and disbelief, every sensation amplified as his touch ignites my skin.
My body arches into his, and I try to hold onto him, but my grasp weakens, my fingers slipping away as if they’re moving through water.
His touch feels distant now, as though it’s slipping through my fingers. His presence becomes a fading warmth against the encroaching darkness.
In a desperate gasp, the room fades completely into blackness, and with it, the last remnants of consciousness slip away, leaving nothing but a consuming silence.