Page 40 of The Diávolos: Part One
No one emerges from the stalls, and I relax my shoulders. I wouldn’t want anyone hearing this exchange and taletelling.
“Can I help you? It’s not polite to follow people into the bathroom, especially after having stared at them for hours,” I state, crossing my arms in front of my chest. I have no idea who this person is, and he’s definitely right, Ishouldbe scared. But right now, there are loads of other emotions that are threatening to seep out of my body like lava.
His body language screams rage. Pure, wild, and unfiltered anger.
“You can help me by telling me who the fuck you came with,” he spits, his voice muffled from the mask. “I’m in here because you seem to be on adate.” His whole body trembles. Now that he’s closer, I narrow in on his eyes to see if I can recognize him. His entire face is covered, but I can see that the bottom of his jawline is absent of any stubble or hair. I take a good look at his darkened pupils, and they not only show anger, but something like anguish and pain. They tell a haunting story I want to hear over and over again. There’s something so oddly familiar about them, but I can’t put my finger on it.
“Why do you even care?” I ask. “I don’t even know who you are, so I don’t owe you an explanation. I’ve been here for over an hour, and you’ve been staring at me the whole time like a psychopath!” The pitch in my voice increases with each word.
He slams his left fist onto the counter, and I try to hide my flinch.
“Who thefuckis he, Angelica? Are you fucking him?”
I wonder why none of this is scaring me. Why isn’thescaringme?
“No. I’m notfuckinghim. Not that it’s any of your business.”
He closes in on me fast and backs me into the corner. He places his hands on the wall on each side of my head, trapping me between him and the concrete. “What do you want from me?” I ask, my heartbeat racing a mile a second. I’m now beginning to feel maybe slightly scared of him, but I can’t help the different kinds of tension building in my body.
His anger doesn’t subside, and his piercing eyes turn dark, empty. He seems to be fighting an inner battle, his breaths labored and short. He bows his head, and I can sense his struggle. For some unknown reason, I want to help him take away the pain. The only thing I manage to do is lift my hands and cup the back of his neck, letting my fingers gently caress his skin.What the hell are you doing, Ang?I’ve truly lost my mind. But it doesn’t stop my hands from exploring what’s uncovered. The movements of his chest visibly slow down and he lifts his head to look at me. For a moment, I think I caught a glimmer of surprise in his eyes.
“Do not question me right now. You don’t know what I’m capable of,” he says under his breath.
I reach for my purse and grab my pocketknife. As much as I’m confused about the situation and how my body is reacting, I need something to keep me safe.
He stops my hand mid-air, and right before he snatches it out of my hand, he lets out a deep rumble from his throat. “I should use this little knife to scrape the skin he touched right off your shoulders,” he seethes, his voice calm but deadly. I gasp as he steps closer. “Burn the straps off your dress so he doesn’t have an excuse to put his unworthy fingers on you,” he continues, breathing right into my ear. The heat from it travels straight to my core. “If I see him touching you one more time, I won’t hesitate to stab him in the neck withyourknife, right there in front of everyone. So, you either tell whoever he is to get the fuck out, or you make up an excuse to leave. In any case, you’re leaving here without him tonight, Angelica. You can decide how.”
Who does he think he is? Thisstrangeris acting like a possessive alpha-wolf about to mark his chosen female to keep the other males away. Who I date and sleep with is none of his concern. I’m not his. I don’t even know him. My mind is reeling, the effects of this encounter are like massive waves crashing through my brain. It hurts, everything hurts. I clench the sides of my head, bending forward and I let out a whimper.
“You donothave the right to control me!” I shout. He backs away as I launch myself at him, reaching for his mask. I need to uncover his face. I’ll go crazy if I’m stuck in this bathroom with him for another minute without knowing who he is. He extends his arms out to stop me from coming any closer and I start clawing at his face. “Who are you?” I scream, I don’t even care if anyone hears me. I try to reach for him again, but he’s too strong and blocks every blow. “Take off your mask!” I yell.
As if realizing I won’t stop trying to unmask him, he grabs my hands, forces them to the side of my body, and turns me around so my back is against his front. His arms are wrapped around me so tightly, I can’t move. I stop thrashing, it’s no use. Once I relax into his hold, every part of me fits into his frame like a puzzle. Again, I’m hit with that same sense of familiarity. I shove those thoughts away.You’ve never met him, Angie. You’d remember.
“I’m not taking the mask off, Angelica. And I don’t care if you think I have no right to tell you what to do. You will obey me, even if it’s the last thing you want. If that makes me a villain, then so fucking be it. You’remine,” his deep voice vibrates through my body, and I momentarily drown in it.
I roll my shoulders back and let out a dry laugh. “Yours?” I ask.
“You’re wearingmyearrings, sunshine. I knew they’d complement your dress perfectly,” he purrs into my ear.
He squeezes me tightly before letting go. I slump forward and clutch onto the wall. I can’t breathe. The shock I feel right now is unbearable. I turn to face him, and I press my back into the concrete. My heart is beating beyond measure. I might throw up.
I’m standing in front of mystalker.My guardian angel. My secret admirer. The man who has been watching me this whole time. I try to pull on the hair tie at my wrist and realize I left it at home.Goddamn black-tie dress codes.
He grabs my arm and looks at the marks on my skin. “Why do you hurt yourself, Angelica?”
He asks with concern. I don’t reply. I’ve never had to explain myself about this habit. He runs the pad of this thumb across the jagged scars, and it sends flutters to my stomach.
“Tell me who caused you to start doing this,” he growls. I try to yank my arm away, but he holds on tighter. “Answer me,” he seethes. “I need to know who to fucking slaughter for this.”
The threat, albeit not to me, sends a chill down my spine. I wholeheartedly believe he would make someone pay. The thought increases my anxiety by a few notches, and I continue panicking. This is too much.
“Breathe, Angelica,” he orders.
I try to bring myself back from my state of shock by inhaling two shallow breaths and exhaling slowly. I eventually calm down.
“That’s my girl,” he praises in an almost soothing voice.
“You’re a psycho,” I breathe out, sounding raspy.
