The Enigma [18+]

seventeen

warning: mature content

for you there's only love
'cause you're my religion

October 29, 2003
|dominic romano|

Several things ran through Dominic mind when he learned that Myra Dalton was in danger.

One, he wanted to annihilate campus security for being so careless and reckless. He warned them. He warned them. The inaction on their end was cause for concern, and his constant badgering was surely bringing some attention to the entire ordeal. Despite the Dean's obvious attempts at downplaying the situation, the facts were clear and terrifying.

A student's dormitory was broken into.

The rumors spread like wildfire. A scorned ex-lover, a deranged serial killer, an argument between roommates... It was endless. Myra didn't deserve any of it.

Two, Dominic felt the innate need to protect Myra no matter the cost. He waited too long to find a woman so fierce and enchanting that it only made sense that he would do anything for her. It was him on his knees for her, and if this was love, he could start wars with what he felt.

He had thought about what he would do if he came across Asher, her poor excuse of a father. None of it was pretty. In his solitude, Dominic had decided that he would become a monster if that's what was needed to protect his Myra.

Students trickled into his classroom, and Dominic kept his head low. His cold demeanor remained like a mask glued to his skin. His persona, indifferent and stoic, managed to earn whispers and caution.

"He looks like he's in a bad mood."

"Get ready for another quiz."

"Just because he's going through shit doesn't mean he can take it out on us."

Underneath his mask, his pulse raced rapidly, and fear coursed through his veins. Fear. It left behind a bitter taste in his mouth. He had something, or rather someone, to lose.

And he couldn't bear the thought of it.

Myra missed class last week, and all he could think about was how dull everything felt without her. Everything. Teaching bored him. Dinner was lonely. His bed felt colder. Still, the professor encouraged her to return home and stay with her mother in New York for another week.

The young woman, however, was adamant.

"Chamomile." Dominic spoke softly. "Chamomile."

The rope was removed long ago, resting on the floor. He ran his palms across the indentations on her bare skin. Myra, spent and glistening with perspiration, fell into his chest with a sigh.

She remained in a daze, not really there.

Her mind was elsewhere.

"I-I can handle it, Dominic."

"I know you can, darling."

"Then, why did you stop?"

"It doesn't feel right." He paused. "You're not here with me, Myra, and I don't feel comfortable moving forward."