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Like I’m the one breeding the hate of the world I live in, capturing me in its fingerless hold and never letting go.
I’m a target for the sick and twisted, a dumping ground for the depraved, and it invades my soul to the point that I no longer know who I am. I’m stuck in the mud and sinking slowly. So slowly that I can’t move without dipping deeper into the muck.
Della. My eyes pop open.
I hear him. Whoever he is.
The menacing force ruining my life before it can even begin.
He’s always lurking, waiting around the corners of my mind like we’re connected, but I know better. I know my abilities more than anyone else, which means he’s here on the property.
Throwing the blankets off, I move to the French doors overlooking my balcony and the rear of the estate. My eyes scan the perimeter, but I won’t see him. I never do. And when I report his presence, my dad’s guards look at me like I’ve lost my mind.
Perhaps I have.
Sometimes it feels that way.
I’m never sure if what I’m seeing or feeling is in my head or for real. At times, it gets hard to distinguish, and I can't know for sure when I feel as raw as I did after my afternoon spent with Holy and Cece.
When Holy touches me, I don’t usually feel his emotions like with everyone else. I don’t discern anything from him, and it’s been mind-boggling, but when he took a sip of the lemonade before I did, I caught a glimpse into his mind. I felt more in that tiny sip than I have in all the prior times I’ve spent in his company.
I was rattled. Terrified.
Ready to dive right over the railing of the pier.
Because what I felt from Holy was nothing like I’d experienced before.
Holy was fire and safety. Ice and warmth. He was a haven I hadn’t imagined for myself. And that’s the problem. He can’t be any of those things for me because once he discovers my secret, he’ll walk the other way. No one wants to be around someone who can read your every emotion and perceive your thoughts simply by occupying the same space.
Closing and locking the doors, I pull the curtains closed and quietly head down to my crafting room. I know I won’t sleep anymore tonight, so being productive will prevent me from feeling like I’m losing my mind.
Switching on a lamp on my desk, I open the new bag of stones I bought today. Placing the ones I ordered aside, I reach for the pink heart stone and already know exactly what I’m making. A lover's necklace. With black leather rope and small prosperity rocks to sit in the kiss of the heart so it settles in the brackets nicely.
I’m so lost in what I’m doing that I don’t realize anyone has joined me until a glass of iced water is placed on the desk in front of me.
Jumping back, I’m caught in strong arms. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” Holy’s voice is deep and soothing. It also explains why I didn’t realize I wasn’t alone. “Why are you up so late?” He sits in the empty chair across from me, and I bite my tongue to hide my reaction to him being shirtless.
Sweet mercy, he is a fine-looking man, sculpted like he came from a museum in Italy. Dark hair dusts his chest, thicker across his pecs and trailing down his stomach to where I’m sure they’ll lead into his shorts.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I mumble, lifting my shoulders in a shrug and returning to my work. He’s a distraction, and as I move to burn two pieces of metal together, I slip and singe the tip of my finger.
“Dammit, Della.” Grabbing my hand, he doesn’t hesitate to put the tip in his mouth, allowing the saliva to soothe the burning sensation.
Gasping, my body heats up, and my chest flows with warmth and light. An overwhelming feeling of protectiveness envelops me, and I find myself drawn to Holy in a way I’ve never experienced before. It’s like being bathed in a glow of peace and tranquility. It’s addicting, making me want more, and I find myself greedy for the textures and colors flickering in my mind.
“Della?” Holy’s confused voice pulls me from myself, and my eyes slowly open. A haze covers my vision until I register the way he’s glaring at me. The anger simmering in his eyes shrivels up all the good I felt until darkness descends once again.
“I’m so sorry.” Tugging my hand back, I grab a band-aid from the drawer in my desk. It’s not the first time I’ve hurt myself while working, and I wrap my finger.
“What the fuck was that, Della?” I can’t bring myself to look at him.
Grabbing my air pods, I put one in before hitting “play” on my iPod dock and shrug. “It just happens sometimes.” Slipping the other bud in, I force back the tears at his angered response that feels a whole lot like rejection. I can’t face that. Not now, not when I’m so exposed. When he’s close to learning my secret.
In the morning, I must tell my father that he needs to bring Holy into the loop and ensure he tells no one else about my unique abilities. Reading emotions and absorbing pain and illness is something I was gifted by whichever deity out there possesses the ability to do that, and I hate them for it every single day of my life. Even more so now that the man I’ve crushed on for years will never look at me again like a regular woman with just a few minor quirks.
To Holy, I’ll always be a science experiment—just like everyone else. Unless, of course, they need me. I was foolish to think his attention could remain pure.
Startled from my work, my soldering pen is taken from my grasp as Holy cups my cheeks in both hands and lands a kiss on my lips so forceful, so intimidating and domineering that I quickly lose my breath.
