Page 11 of The Diávolos: Part One
Who is he?I’ve never seen him before. I make a mental note to ask Henry, but he’s probably gone for the night. I’m a little disappointed I won’t find out who this mystery man is tonight. This strangermade me feel so many emotions at once just by looking at me. I’ve never felt so bare, as if he could see right through me.
I shake off the feelings left from our little run in and continue down the hall to the restroom. When I get back into the shooting range area, I give my name to one of the employees behind the counter, and she grabs my equipment out of my designated locker. She hands me a semi-automatic and I scrunch my face, confused.
“Um, sorry, I don’t shoot with rifles. I use the glock 19 or any other 9mm caliber you have available. I was using one a few minutes ago,” I explain, slightly irritated.
“Sorry, hun, but that man,” she points behind me, “took the last handgun.”
I turn around.Go figure.The gorgeous man from before looks over at me and smirks, a knowing glint in his eye.What an ass.Forget all those warm, buzzing feelings he gave me. This is going to be an interesting night.
“Fine. I’ll take this one,” I sigh loudly in exasperation. Having to use a different gun gives me a bit of anxiety.
I walk to an empty station and notice he is two rows down. I shake my head in annoyance. Between the rifle and the human wall made completely out of muscle that almost took me out earlier, I’m not sure tonight is my night.
I’m not comfortable shooting rifles, but I’m already here and can’t leave until Gianis picks me up. So, I put on my big girl pants and prepare to shoot. I slip on my protective gear, straighten my safety goggles so they are straight, and place the earmuffs over my ears, effectively canceling out most of the background noise. I draw in a deep breath, lift the gun, and rest it on my shoulder. I place my legs in a widened stance, my left side facing the target.
Rifles are a lot bigger than handguns and require much more precision and technique to use accurately. I know I can handle it, but something about this is making me nervous. I try to shoot once, and the drawback almost kicks me off my feet. I miss the target by a longshot. I let out a defeated sigh as I prepare to aim again. Suddenly, I feel a strong presence behind me and all the air I’d already let out gets sucked back into my lungs. It’shim. I fight the urge to turn around and acknowledge him.
He smells like…cedarwood and mint, with a hint of musk. I was too flustered during our run-in, in the hallway to focus on his scent. It reminds me of a cabin escape in autumn. I briefly close my eyes as I inhale his smell, and I slightly angle my head to face him. It’s as if something inside of me awakens.
I feel him lift one side of my earmuffs slowly, as if giving me the time to stop him. When I don't make a move, he brushes the hair out of my face, tucking the strands behind my ear. I freeze in place. I shouldn't let him put his hands on me, but I don’t want him to stop. The sensation of his fingers on my skin sends a flutter down my body. He leans in, a bit too close for comfort for any other complete stranger, and whispers, “Do you mind?”
The warmth of his breath gives me goosebumps and the hairs on the back of my neck raise in response. I must be sick. I’ve never met this man in my life, yet my body is reacting as if he’s capable of touching my soul, awakening feelings I didn’t know were dormant.
“What?” I respond, disoriented.
“Do you mind if I help you? You seem nervous,” he asks as he points to the rifle.
I hesitate before answering. My brain is overworked, unable to keep up with what’s going on. It feels as if I have whiplash. “Uh, sure, I guess,” I reply, absent-mindedly. My mind is racing. I couldn’t keep a coherent thought in my brain right now if my life depended on it.What is happening to me?
The man moves closer. So close, my back is almost flush with the front of his body. He extends both of his arms, grabs the rifle, and places it correctly on my right shoulder. His body surrounds me, and it makes me feel so cocooned, sheltered from the world, comforted, safe.
His fingers tap the side of my right hip, and I see his foot trying to make a wedge between my feet. I widen my stance a bit and he pushes my legs open even farther. Once I’m steady, he squeezes the side of my left hip and tugs me into his body. My ass is glued to his crotch, and I can feel the outline of his length. It’s not fully erect, but it’s hard enough for me to feel it through the layers of clothing.Oh, God.
The most gorgeous stranger in existence is standing right behind me with his legs in between mine. This feels so inappropriate…lygood. My heart is fluttering, and I’m not sure if it’s because of the adrenaline or his presence, or both.
He takes my right hand and sets it on the pistol grip, grazing my injured wrist with his thumb ever-so-slightly, and delicately places my fingers in a “V” next to the trigger. The feeling of his calloused palm sends a shiver down my spine, as my mind goes straight to an image of him running his hands down my bare skin. I want this stranger to touch me all over. He puts his lips to my ear, and I get another whiff of his scent. It makes me dizzy.
“You can breathe now,” he says, playfully.
I was holding my breath this whole time. I take a deep inhale in, and exhale. Right before he puts the earmuff back on my ear, he takes my left hand in his, and puts it on the fore stock, midway down the length of the rifle, and says, “Shoot.”
With him still pressed against me, I bring the rifle close to my head and push my cheek firmly into the stock. I keep my head straight and squeeze the trigger, causing the weapon to fire. The discharge of the gun surprises me with its force. But his body helps absorb the recoil, and his hands grip my hips to steady me. After a moment, I put the rifle down on the counter. My heart is racing, and my breaths are harsh. Electricity courses through my veins. I feel invincible.
I peek at the target paper. A perfect shot. I turn around to face him as I take off my protective glasses. He gently tugs at a strand of loose curls hanging out of my bun and smiles. And, God, does his smile take me to a place I’ve never been. His eyes soften, the hazel in his irises piercing right through me. I feel a sense of pride in myself. I never thought I would be confident enough to handle such a big firearm, but this stranger swooped in and helped me conquer my insecurity. He stares at me with intent, his eyes gleaming with something like…awe. I shy away from the intensity, my gaze dropping to the floor, and I see that his hands are still holding onto my waist.
“Good girl, Angelica,” he says under his breath, and my body stills.How does he know my name?
He squeezes my hip, lets it go slowly, and backs away from me without breaking his gaze. I feel the absence of his body instantly.
“Wait! I didn’t even get your name,” I call out.
As he moves back to his station, he briefly stops in his tracks, and I sense hesitation before he responds.
“Evan.” He grabs his bag and walks out of the range.
Something tells me this isn’t the last time I’ll see him.
Secret admirer. A stalker with stationery
