Chapter Twenty-Five #2
“Be careful with that one,” I advise Valerie. “He’s dangerous.”
Valerie looks at Dorian. “Is he gonna kill me?”
Dorian smiles, shaking his head. “No.”
“Is he a cannibal or child-beater?”
Dorian’s smile disappears, replaced by faint disgust, while I don’t bother suppressing my laugh.
“No,” Dorian emphasizes. “Where the hell are those questions coming from?”
“A girl’s gotta have standards before engaging in some fun.” Valerie shrugs. “Is he a good debater?”
“I certainly fancy myself one,” Seamus responds, strolling back into the room and setting an expensive-looking bottle of whiskey in front of Valerie. Val watches as he gathers cinnamon sticks and the other supplies she requested, arching an eyebrow at him.
“You trying to impress me, eye-candy?”
“I don’t need good alcohol to impress you,” Seamus replies, setting all the ingredients of an Old Fashioned in front of her. “There are plenty of other ways I can do that.”
“Cupcakes are done!” I say, a little shrilly.
“If you two want to fuck, go for it, but please do your flirting out of earshot. It’s getting uncomfortable.
” Dorian grabs a plate and helps me organize the cupcakes.
I slide one across the counter to Valerie, then flee the kitchen as fast as I can manage.
“Seamus won’t hurt her, right?” I ask Dorian in the hall.
He shakes his head. “No. He’s into some heavy kinks, but he’s also very conscientious of limits and safe words. If they get together, they’ll talk and negotiate a scene that works for them. The only way he’ll actually hurt her is if she wants more than sex from him.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “Valerie never does more than just sex. She has an aversion to relationships.”
Dorian smiles faintly. “Sounds like someone else I know.”
“I don’t have an aversion to relationships,” I correct. “I have an aversion to gangsters.”
“Lucky for you, baby, I’m not a gangster.”
“Then what are you?” I ask curiously.
Dorian blinks slowly. “Many things. Ask me what I want to be.”
I swallow at the tension that electrifies the air between us. “What do you want to be?”
“Yours.”
He reaches out to ghost his thumb over my bottom lip. I look away, feeling my cheeks heat at his frankly spoken admission. I’m not ready to explore the feelings that his declaration stir, so I duck past him and head to the living room, holding the plate of cupcakes up. “Sugar’s here,” I announce.
Seamus and Valerie arrive shortly after Cara’s grabbed a cupcake and reluctantly agreed to watch The Conjuring. We all settle down as Dorian puts on the movie, each of us with a cupcake and drink in hand.
My phone starts buzzing with a phone call about halfway through the opening credits. The caller ID is Unknown, so I assume it’s a scammer and send it to voicemail, returning my attention to the movie.
Everyone’s retaken their positions from before.
Cara’s clutching the edges of a fur blanket I gave her, staring at the screen with wide, frightened eyes.
Valerie’s leaned forward in her seat, munching on a cupcake while gazing at the TV screen with a steadily-deepening interest. Seamus is watching Valerie instead of the movie; when he catches me looking at him, he tips me an unabashed wink.
My phone starts buzzing again about thirty minutes into the movie—again, I send the call to voicemail and settle further into the comfortable cushions of the couch. Dorian sneaks an arm around my waist and tugs me into his side.
“Excuse me,” I murmur, casting him a glance.
“I wasn’t aware that girls-night meant I’d be cuddling with my b—” I cut off with a swallow, cheeks heating at the realization that I nearly called him my boyfriend, which he’s not.
He might’ve been really sweet to me yesterday and today—aside from the punishment last night, when he was being downright cruel—but I haven’t outright agreed to being his.
I just haven’t argued. He’s stated and reiterated multiple times that he wants me to be his and considers me to be his, but that doesn’t make it true.
There are still fundamental problems between us.
“Your what?” Dorian murmurs, eyes glittering with interest.
I clear my throat quietly. “My captor.”
His lips quirk. “I’m not your captor, Mira. Since you’re my guest, I suppose that makes me your host.”
I nod. “My host, then. I wasn’t aware that having a girl’s night with my roommates—”
“Former roommates,” he corrects.
“—would involve me cuddling with my host.”
“Well,” Dorian says with a shrug, “that can’t be helped.
See, I’m actually scared of horror movies, so I need you to protect me from the ghosts and demons.
I’m considering you my good-luck charm, which means I’ll be keeping you close.
” When I raise my eyebrows, he pushes his bottom lip out in an adorable pout.
“You don’t want to let me get eaten by demons, do you? ”
I can’t help the smile pulling on my lips. “I don’t think the demons in this movie will eat you.”
“Semantics.”
“Are you two going to flirt for the whole movie or actually watch it?” Seamus questions loudly. “You’re being distracting.”
“If you were watching the movie instead of Mira’s former roommate, you wouldn’t be so distracted,” Dorian says back, not looking away from me.
Cheeks burning, I pointedly avert my gaze from him and turn my attention to the screen.
Again, my phone starts buzzing. This time, I welcome the distraction, unfolding myself from Dorian’s grip.
“I gotta take this call,” I murmur, hurrying out of the room.
I make my way into the kitchen, gazing at the Unknown ID pasted on my phone screen, knowing it’s probably a scammer sitting in a call center in India.
I wind through the house and head out of the back exit, flicking on the patio lights.
It’s chilly outside, but I don’t want to risk running into Dorian if I head back in to grab a sweater.
I’m flustered and unsure of where I stand with him, even more uncertain of which direction we’re heading in.
I feel like we’re evolving in a way I’m not ready for.
Taking a seat at the wooden table, I pick up the call, pressing it to my ear. I expect to hear a scammer telling me that my credit card information has been stolen and the only way to fix it is to give him my social security number and all of my personal details.
“Hello?” I say, already preparing how I can blow off some steam by fucking with the operator.
“Mira.”
My blood runs cold. My heart stops. Goosebumps spread over my arm and neck like a rash, and nausea rises in my esophagus.
Everything in the world seems to come to a halt as I hear the cruel, cruel voice speaking to me.
The evening birds stop chirping, the distant sound of cars driving by disappear, and even the low hum buzzing from the patio lights seems to fall silent. Everything goes still.
“Clyde.”