CHAPTER EIGHT
ALEXANDRA JONES
HE KISSED ME, DIAVOLOS KISSED ME.
I wanted more.
I needed more.
I craved more.
And it continues to replay in my mind, distracting me from the events happening in the present. My fingers unable to slide away from my lip, only until I felt warm liquid trickling down my finger. I slowly bring it down to eye level and realise that I am bleeding, he bit me? I barely realised.
But I felt guilty that I kissed another man, what about Ares? Why did I have to follow him for? Where did that confidence even come from? “So, Alexandra, how is college?” Mrs. Johnson asks, breaking through my reverie. I quickly sat up straight, peeling my fingers away from my lips, which I had been grazing.
“Perfectly fine, given the amount of work I have to complete.” Mrs. Johnson chuckles, and I used the opportunity to stand up and assist my mother in clearing the dinner table. I wanted this gathering to end so that I could have some time alone to process everything that had happened with Diávolos. I barely had a moment to think before needing to run back home to my bedroom.
Once we returned to the living room, I tried my best to compose myself. I took a seat on the armchair, hoping to keep a safe distance from Clark, who seemed to be showing a little too much interest in me. almost as if he was forced to talk to me and try this hard, I could tell he wasn’t interested. I just know and I am not surprised. The man seems in love with himself, the way he looks at himself through the black reflection of his phone.
Mrs. Johnson continues to praise her son, Clark, who was studying medicine and apparently excelling at it. I try to engage in the conversation, but to be fair-I just wasn’t interested. The conversation carried on, Clark leaned in closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You are very beautiful, Alexandra,” he whispers.
“Uh, thank you,” I reply, trying to keep my composure.
“Your lips bleeding.” He points out, I gently brush a finger and hold it back-noticing the blood. “You should get that cleaned up.” I stand up from the couch and head to the kitchen, I grab some tissue from the dining table and dab it against my lips.
He might as well have taken my mouth with him.
Mr. Johnson steps into the kitchen, his presence making me slightly uncomfortable. He had a striking resemblance to his son, with his strawberry hair and strong brown eyes. He was dressed in a navy suit, with a pink handkerchief peeking out of his pocket. I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of unease around him. He walks towards the open bottle of wine and pours himself a glass, looking back at me every now and then.
“Are you okay, Alex?” He asks, concern evident in his voice.
I forced a smile and nodded.
“I’m fine, Mr. Johnson, nothing to worry about,” I answer, taking a step towards the door to return to the living room. But his hand stops me, preventing me from going any further. He steps closer, his breath near my ear as he seemed to inhale my scent. It is an unnerving moment, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of discomfort. His hand rested on my lower back, and I felt a wave of unease wash over me.
He was old enough to be my father, and his behaviour was making me uneasy. “I remember you when you were a kid, so small-so innocent.” he whispered, his voice sending shivers down my spine. “You used to love sitting on my lap you know.”
What the fuck?
His hand lingers on my back, and I felt trapped.
“Let go of me,” I manage to say, my voice trembling slightly. Mr. Johnson let out a soft chuckle, and his hand finally fell away from the door, back to his side. I quickly move away, making my way back to the living room, hoping to put some distance between us.
My hands rub onto my arm as I re-joined the conversation, all the sparks created by Diávolos have now been blown out.
And now I just want to run up to my room and cry from that awkward conversation.