We’d been dining together every night since things had started to get crazy. It had been another unspoken compromise. He’d shown up with boxes at my condo one night, telling me how perhaps I should store some things at his place, just in case. I’d agreed but then kept everything I actually used at my condo. It made sense with everything going on and also because of the vision of my fate he had, the one we didn’t speak of, where I was lying dead in a pool of my own blood.
I’d had dinner with him that night but then went home afterward. We’d fallen into a routine, one night turning into a standing dinner date. Sometimes I’d cook, sometimes he would, and occasionally we would have take-out. We’d strategize about work, Malokin, and what was happening then have a coffee afterward on the deck or maybe a drink. At some point I’d force myself, against my baser instincts, to leave. There’d be a moment before our goodbye when the invitation would be crystal clear in his eyes; a glance down the hall to where his bedroom was or a lingering hand at my waist as I moved to get up from the couch.
The thing was, I wanted to be with him. I wanted to live there and go skipping down the beach, watch the sunrise hand in hand and every other goofy cliché I’d never thought I’d need or experience since I’d started this new life. But that wasn’t what was being offered.
Protection? Check. Sex? He’d been dropping plenty of hints he was ready and waiting.
But love? Now that didn’t seem to be on the menu, or not on his, at least. No mention of deeper feelings or even a carrot, far off in the future to chase, a dangling promise that would allow me to rationalize that maybe he did have deeper feelings for me. Something that would let me think this was the real thing for him and that he just needed time. But he wasn’t giving me anything to hang my hat on and reality, a pesky nuisance I’d never been able to ignore very well, would hit me upside the head.
Fate had lived for a minimum of centuries. That I was fairly certain of. And in all the details I’d gleaned from him, over the time I’d known him, not once had there been any mention of a long-term relationship. If, in all these years, he’d never once had a commitment that lasted longer than a week, what made me think I’d be different?
It wasn’t like that for me. I was going down and hard. There are a few things in life that suck really badly. Loving someone who doesn’t love you back is one of them. I’d thought I’d learned my lesson with Charlie, my ex fiancé. I’d thought losing him, and then having to watch him build the life I thought we’d share from the outside, had been bad.
When I looked at Fate—when he gave me that flirty smirk he sometimes did or a part of him brushed against a part of me—I glimpsed what true heartache looked like. What I’d felt for Charlie had been love; I was certain of it. Or a type of love, anyway, the kind that was comforting and calm, soft and let you sleep easy at night.
“You’re not bailing on dinner.”
Hearing those words, I could breathe again, and he turned and gave me that smirk.
I wondered if he knew what he was doing? If he had any idea how some of the things he did affected me? The sizzle I felt being near him was so intense but I couldn’t figure out if they were fireworks or warning flares.
As far as my gut instinct was concerned, the only thing it was telling me as far as Fate went was, there was no soft fall. I’d go down hard, with no chance of bouncing back. He’d be it. If it was just a fling to him? There would be no rebound after he broke my heart, just a hard crash that I’d never recover from. And as much as I thought to myself that I needed to not walk down that path, because I might be going alone, I nodded, taking another step, again, like an addict saying I’d quit tomorrow, just one more time.
I’d once heard a Chinese proverb that said, “You’ll end up where you’re heading.” All those little steps would still take me to the same destination, just a bit slower, and it scared the hell out of me.
“It’s getting worse and the decline seems to be increasing,” he said, his eyes scanning the horizon and his voice edgier than before, when he’d been teasing.
Work. That was safe ground. I wasn’t sure what that said about me, that I’d prefer a discussion about the coming apocalypse over my feelings for a confirmed bachelor. Still, I’d grab the lifeline with both hands if it got me out of my own head for a little while.
I nodded. He was right. You could taste it in the air every time you stepped out of your door. The feeling of violence, which had been just a taste weeks ago, had been growing steadily into a full on all-you-can-eat buffet.
“I don’t think anyone should be staying alone at this point. It’s not safe.” His eyes, appearing so dark sometimes, practically glowed with green emerald flecks as they stared at me.
“I know,” I replied, agreeing with the sentiment but not offering any solution, wondering if I’d be better off fending for myself against the angry mob than sleeping feet from him. How long would my willpower hold up? Death by fire or a beating from an angry mob? I’d have to think on that a bit more.
“But you’re not going to listen.” He didn’t need to elaborate on how he felt about that. It was clear in his voice.
“I’m listening. I just haven’t made a decision.” I let my head drop back to stare at the clouds. Why couldn’t he say I’m falling for you and can’t spend another night without you in my arms? It was so much more romantic than I think you’re going to be raped and murdered so let’s shack up together and probably have sex because, hey, you’re right there and isn’t this convenient. At least if he’d said he was falling for me, I’d have an excuse. When it eventually went bad, I could fall back on the position that he had lied and how could he have done that to me. It would have been a lot easier to go down with delusions and a scapegoat neatly lined up.
“Not sure how long you’re going to have an option.”
My head popped back up as I looked at him, trying to gauge where he was going with that last statement. Did he mean the situation was going to force my hand or him? Neither would surprise me, but I couldn’t read his expression.
Now that would give me plausible deniability. See, it wasn’t my fault. We had been thrown together. The whole thing was becoming ridiculous. I was preparing an excuse for when I was heartbroken and looking to place blame, and it wouldn’t matter. I’d still be heartbroken.
A flurry of action caught my eye as I saw the group that had eyed me up as a potential target before. They’d stopped underneath a pier about a mile down. Another group was heading toward them from the opposite direction. I knew the fight was coming before the first fist swung. Then it was an all-out brawl between the two groups.
Fate turned to watch as well, neither of us making any move to stop it. It would be as pointless as blowing in the wind.
He sighed then stood up. He stepped in front of me, faded jeans and white t-shirt hinting at the tanned perfection I knew lay beneath. His palm reached out to give me a helping hand up, and I let him pull me to my feet.
He tugged me up hard enough that I was propelled into his arms, which he then wrapped around me, to keep me from falling I’m sure.
“Sorry.” His mouth was alarmingly close to mine. “I really don’t know my strength sometimes.”
Another smirk. Another hint. And my pulse was off to the races.
“No problem.” I shrugged it off as I stepped out of his embrace and started walking back to his house. The guy was completely screwing with me.
Chapter Two
I groaned as I opened my eyes and looked at the clock beside me. It was four in the morning and the third time in the last two weeks that a throbbing pain near the region of my tattoo had woken me from a dead sleep.
I closed my eyes, telling myself it wasn’t a big deal and that nothing was wrong. It was a strain or something. I sighed deeply. That excuse had worked so much better the first few times I’d used it.