Chapter 11 Declan
DECLAN
Ilove seeing how I get under Ewen’s skin without trying.
To say I was surprised to see him sitting in my bar would be an understatement.
He was with that goofy friend of his—who was making heart eyes at my sister.
I don’t like that. She’s too good for him.
Hell, she’s too good for anyone. Fiona is the only light in our family.
We’ve spent years shielding her from our world.
I knew going up to him would shock him, but I didn’t expect him to be a statue. Ewen barely breathed while I stood in front of him. He was stunned enough that he forgot his manners. Didn’t offer to shake my hand and never said a word.
He practically ran out of here as if his ass was on fire, leaving without looking back. That wasn’t what I wanted.
“Hey Fi, watch the bar. I have a quick errand to run.” She waves at me in acknowledgement, but her eyes are set on Caleb. That’s an issue for another day.
I rush out the rear door, knowing exactly where Ewen is heading. Back to his little apartment at the church. His safe zone. Or what he assumes is his safe place. I might have been in there a couple times, trying to figure out everything I can about him.
His cat is the reason I haven’t gone more often. Don’t need the furball to blow my cover, and anytime I make my way into Ewen’s space, the cat starts meowing so loudly, I’m always worried it’ll alert someone to my presence.
The alleys all connect and are the fastest route to the parish, which is nice because I beat Ewen to his place.
How do I want to play this? Calm and cool? Cold and intimidating?
Never once have I questioned my actions. I’m a very confident man. In all things I do. So, the fact I just questioned myself is a hiccup, but it won’t change the outcome. I’m getting alone time with my Aingeal.
I position myself in the back doorway to his private residence. Sure, he could bypass me and go in through the front of the church, but I know from my time spent watching him, he prefers to come and go this way.
The sound of gravel crunching under shoes tells me he’s here. The smirk from earlier graces my face as I wait to surprise him.
I live for the look he gets when I’m the reason he’s unraveling. He appears so vulnerable. It makes my dick so hard.
Ewen still hasn’t glanced up since rounding the corner. He has the terrible habit of not being aware of his surroundings. The fact he still hasn’t noticed me annoys me. My Aingeal should always be expecting trouble. That trouble being me.
Faking a cough to grab his attention, he lifts his eyes up, freezing where he is. His body locks up like it does every time he’s in my presence.
He finally snaps out of it. “What are you doing here? Have you not caused me enough trouble?”
Ah, yes baby, show me your backbone. Let me know you aren’t just a simple, docile creature. I know he’s a good guy. Believes in religion and God. That he doesn’t have any skeletons in his closet—except me.
“Oh, the Aingeal has claws.”
“No! Stop! You don’t get to give me pet names. We are nothing more to each other than a night where I had to choose between life or death,” he yells.
I step down from the doorway, getting in his personal space. This is where I like to be. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. To smell him. And if I wanted to, wrap him in my arms. But we’re not there yet.
Soon though.
“Ewen you can lie to yourself all you want. Tell yourself whatever you need to sleep well at night. But I know it’s a lie.
You liked—no loved—what I did to you that night.
I brought something dark out in you.” My resolve snaps and I reach for him, gliding my hand down his arm, feeling his muscles.
He’s not as built as I am, but his arms are firm.
His eyes leave mine and follow my movements. “You forced me.”
I lift his chin with my other hand, commanding him to keep his gaze on me. “Again, tell yourself whatever makes you feel okay. You were the one thrusting, moaning, enjoying it all like a little slut.”
“I’m not a slut!” His eyes blaze with anger.
I chuckle. “You are my little slut, Aingeal. Just give it time.”
He breaks my hold on him, stepping back and shaking his head like he’s trying to convince himself he’s not into me or our night of pleasure.
“You need to leave Declan. Leave me alone. I told you before I won’t tell anyone, but I can’t support who you are or what you’ve done.”
The face I adore seems haunted. Like he’s fighting his true emotions.
Fine, if he wants me gone, then I’ll be gone.
Of course I won’t be. Not really. I’ll go back to stalking him like before.
No more confessions. Nothing. I’ll bide my time because I know from the way he looks at me, he doesn’t want me to go forever.
“Fine. I’ll leave you alone, Ewen. I’ll give you what you want.”
I do the same thing I did earlier, I walk away without looking back. Just like he did to me not twenty minutes ago.
My Aingeal will come back to me.
It’s been three damn weeks since I agreed to Ewen’s demands to leave him alone. I’m not a fan of it, either.
I know there’s nothing between us other than that night and me being a creep, but I was happy with our short interactions. Where he spoke to only me. Had his eyes locked on me. I felt special for those few interactions. Now, I just feel…rejected. Abandoned. Lost.
These aren’t normal feelings for me. I’ve always been very self-assured. Maybe Ewen wasn’t the only one affected and not admitting things to themselves. I don’t like that I’ve had to return to the shadows.
I liked having his sole focus. Fuck, what I wouldn’t do for one of those smiles to be directed at me.
My stalking has given me insight into who Ewen is as a man. He owns jazz records and boring history books. But, like, who is he deep down? What does he dream about? To know everything about him is my true goal.
Fiona has been casually seeing his doctor friend. Maybe that’s how I get back in his good graces—make nice with his buddy.
No, Caleb isn’t how I want to go about it, but it might be my only option. Maybe if I’m friendly with Dr. Dorky, I can find a way to be with Ewen.
Yes, I call myself the Devil. Probably the closest thing to him on this Earth. I kill with no emotions. I show no mercy, nor have I ever felt an ounce of sorrow or regret over what I do. Can a priest and the Devil be friends?