Page 46 of The Diávolos: Part One
I’m confused and I don’t know how to feel. Now, it makes sense that Evan had an effect on me, as if my subconscious knew he was my secret admirer, the stranger I had been forming a bond with for weeks.
At the masquerade ball, my body remembered him, but I didn't give it a second thought. I recognized the feeling of him pressed against me, the familiarity. The way he softly caressed my skin. The huskiness in his voice when he said, ‘you’re mine.’ His scent. How could I have not realized it was him?
I was so caught up inhimthat I ignored all the signs. I feel like a fool.
“Angelica,” a deep voice says from my side. I whip my head toward it and see Evan kneeling by the bed with a glass of water. I jerk my eyes back to the ceiling and squeeze them shut so hard.No, no, no.
I feel a slight weight on the bed as Evan sits next to me. He touches my arm and I jolt away from him, crawling backwards toward the headboard. I need to put space between us now before my panic escalates. But it’s too late. I inhale sharp breaths, but I can’t keep up, as if there’s a massive boulder on my chest flattening my lungs. I pant loudly and clutch onto the sheets under me. Tears threaten to fall. I blink a few times and the drops roll down my cheeks. I turn my gaze toward Evan and he’s still sitting next to me, unmoving, with a concerned but hard look on his face.
“Angelica,” he murmurs again. He hesitantly moves his hand toward me and rests it on my knee. This time, I don’t flinch. I can't focus on anything else but my erratic breathing as I struggle to catch my breath. My heart is beating so fast, it feels like it will explode out of my body. I clench my dress and whimper.Help me.
“Drink this,” Evan commands as he shoves the glass of water in my face. “Please,” he adds.
Despite the panic, I still shoot him a death stare. “I’m not taking anything from you,” I seethe. “I’d rather die.”
Evan looks as if he’s seeing red and it reminds me of what happened at Academia. His self-control is slipping. I want to escape before this situation turns sour, but I can’t think straight, and my body feels like it’s deflating. If I don’t calm down soon, I’ll lose consciousness again.
Evan puts the cup down on the nightstand and buries his face in his hands, letting out a loud growl as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I fucking did this. This is all my fault,” he says angrily.
I’m able to snap out of my panic for a moment. “Yes, it is. How dare you toy with my emotions like a doll? I’m a human being, Evan. Not some prize,” I snap, finally regaining control of my anxiety attack through my anger.
I’m relieved to finally know the identity of the person who has been leaving me gifts and notes for weeks. But how can I ignore that he pretended to be two different people? What is his endgame?
“Angeloúdi mou,” he starts, grabbing onto my fingers, and my breath hitches for a second, but he doesn’t stop talking, his eyes steady on mine. “When I first saw you, I had the strongest desire to touch you. Your entire existence called to me, and I knew I had to find out who you were, dig deep into your life, and figure out all the details that make you who you are. I still have a way to go, but what I’ve learned so far has affected me so much, I can barely function. Just the feeling of your hand sends signals to parts of my body I don’t want awakened. Mainly my heart. They go straight to my chest and thoughts, clouding my judgment. But as much as I want to stop them, I can’t make myself do it.”
All the things he’s mentioned, I feel too. I’m terrified and unsure about what the future holds, but a part of me refuses to let go of my feelings for him. Although I know I should be running for the hills, I stay seated exactly where I am, hand in hand with Evan. The stranger I met at the range and my stalker morphing into one. The intensity of my current emotions makes no sense to me. How can I go from barring off love and relationships, to being involved with someone so deeply I don’t know if I’ll ever make it out. I need time to figure this out.
I break my silence. “I want to go home, please.”
I expect pushback, but Evan simply nods. “I’ll take you. I just need to make a stop first.”
“her,
because shemakes life poetry,
she turns every bit
of it into art”
– butterflies rising
Angelica gives me her hand, and I lead her out of the bedroom. I take a good look at her appearance, and she seems to still be in shock. I don’t blame her. I knew she wouldn’t take the news lightly. I blame myself for letting the situation get out of hand. It was stupid of me to allow her to think me and her ‘guardian angel’ weren’t the same person, but what started as a simple plan to get information on my target turned into an obsession.
I didn’t know that my pawn—the main piece I needed to complete my plan successfully, the person I would use for my own advantage—would be someone likeher. I keep reminding myself that she’s Peter’s daughter. She’s tied to the man who took my uncle’s life so unapologetically. In our world, people kill and torture each other more often than necessary. I’m one of those people. But my uncle is where I draw the line. Losing men is always hard, but losing family is harder.
But that changes nothing. I still want Angelica. I have a crazy fixation on owning her and making her mine for good. I’m royally fucked.
Now that she knows it’s me, we can work on getting her to accept it. I shake my head.You’ve gone soft, Evan, my mind tells me. I almostkissedher. That’s how much she’s affecting me. But seeing her have a panic attack right in front of me made me feel like a piece of shit for being the cause. For a moment, my rationality came back to me, and I seriously considered toning it down a bit.Maybe I can convince her to want me?No. I don’t care if she tries to push me away. She will be mine. I can’t imagine what she’ll do when she ultimately finds out the truth of my plan. But that’s for another day.One step at a time.
We walk into the kitchen, and suddenly, I’m hungry, and not for food. I’m starving for the woman in front of me, looking like a whole goddamn meal. Her cheeks are stained with tears, and mascara is smudged around her eyes and runs down her face. Her dress has grass stains all over. Her hair is a jumbled mess. But still, when she’s around me, all I want to do is rip her fucking clothes off and tie her to my bed.
This is the closest I’ve ever been to wanting a relationship. I’m not supposed towantthis. I have to stay clear-minded, yet I can’t help myself. My destiny doomed me with this very predicament.
I need her to fall in love with me for my plan to work, but I can’t allow myself to fall for her. My feelings have to stay out of this. But I find myself wanting to do things to make her happy. I should be focusing on my plan, but I can’t take my eyes off her to concentrate on anything else.
I don’t date. I don’t fall in love.
I fuck and move on.
