Page 41 of His Dark Cravings

Xavier’s gaze doesn’t waver, but I see something flicker in his eyes—a pain, a vulnerability he’s desperately trying to keep hidden. “I get to fix what I couldn’t fix back then,” he says finally. “I get to be the one in control, the one who keeps them safe.”

I swallow hard, my mind racing. “And does it work?” I ask softly. “Does it make it better?”

He stands there, his eyes returning to the painting of his mother, the woman who smiles so serenely despite the storm raging inside her. And then, in a voice that’s almost a whisper, he says, “It keeps me from feeling... empty.”

I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing. I just stand beside him, the weight of his words pressing down on me like the stones in the walls of this old, beautiful, haunted house.

And for the first time, I don’t feel like I’m standing in the dark.

"What happened to your mother?" I ask gently.

Xavier's eyes seem to drift into the past as I press him. The gallery is silent around us, the only sound the soft creak of the old wooden floor beneath our feet as we shift.

He looks at me, his gaze distant, as though he's staring through me into a memory. "She died," he says flatly, but there's a crack in his voice that betrays his composure. "She struggled with her demons, and she couldn't escape them. It was an overdose," he adds.

I feel a pang in my chest, my heart reaching out to him instinctively. Without thinking, I extend my hand, my fingers wrapping around his. He tenses at first, his hand rigid under my touch, as though he isn't used to such undisguised human connection. But he doesn't pull away. He lets my hand stay, a silent acceptance of the comfort I offer.

Xavier studies me then, his green eyes searching mine as though he wants to ask something but hesitates. I almost prod him, curious about what he might say, but before I can, he shifts the focus abruptly.

"What do you want for yourself, Everly?" he asks, his voice breaking the fragile silence.

The question catches me off guard, shifting the weight of the moment from his past to my future. I blink, taken aback, my mind scrambling to keep up.

I think about Talon, about the obligations that bind me to Xavier, about the intricate web of submission and desire that has woven itself around me. But Xavier's question is about more than that. It's about me, about what I truly desire, beyond the debts and the expectations.

I don't know how to answer. The silence stretches between us. Xavier's eyes hold mine, patient yet probing, as though daring me to confront the truth I haven't allowed myself to face.

"You don't have to answer now," he says finally, his voice softening. "Just something to think about."

I nod, the gallery around us fading into the background as I grapple with his words. The question lingers, a challenge to confront the desires I have long ignored, leaving me with more uncertainty than clarity.

What do I want?

Chapter 13

Everly

I lie in bed, the weight of the past few days pressing down on me. The house is quiet, the weekend stillness wrapping around me like a heavy blanket. I’ve barely seen the dolls since I got back—just polite nods and distant smiles. It’s... fine. Normal. I guess I thought there would be more tension, more conflict, but I’m starting to understand. They’re not here to be my friends. They’re here for Xavier. For what he offers them. And I’m just another piece in the puzzle now.

I turn onto my side, my fingers tracing the edge of the bed frame. The room is softly lit, the afternoon sunlight filtering through the curtains in gentle, golden rays. It’s peaceful, almost too much so. Enough to make me think.

What do I want? The question lingers in my head, an ever-present hum I can’t shake. Xavier’s words poke at parts of me I’d rather leave untouched. I’ve always defined myself by what I do, by the charity work, by Talon, by being the good girl. But now?

Now I’m not so sure.

I think about Xavier, about the way he looked at that painting, about the pain in his voice when he talked about his mother. About the way he let me touch his hand. It was a crack in the armor, a glimpse of something vulnerable beneath. And I want to know more. I want to see more.

But then, there’s the other side of him. The side that controls, that demands, that pulls every string. The side that brought me here. I’m not sure which one scares me more.

I throw the covers off and stand, padded footsteps carrying me to the window. The question circles back, sharper now. What do I want? My old life back? Or something else entirely? Something messy?

I push the thought away, but it clings to me like a shadow. I want to believe I’m here just to pay off Talon’s debt, to survive this until it’s over. But that feels like a lie now. Ever since seeing the gallery, ever since Xavier’s hand in mine, I’ve been... Aware. Of him. Of the way he moves, the way he speaks, the way he sees me.

I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t know what it means. All I know is that it’s there, this... thing. This spark. And it terrifies me.

I lean my forehead against the glass. The world beyond blurs, and for a moment, all I can see is him. Xavier. His eyes. I hear his voice, the way he said empty.

What if I want something I shouldn’t? What if I want him?

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