50 Shades of Drake 1 and 2

50SOD II: Chapter One Hundred Two

    It was dark, and outside it smelled like rain. Aubrey had lost track of time, but as he exited the apartment, he could see that the sun had long since set. He had a ton of missed text messages from Bridgette demanding to know where he was with her keys and complaining that she was stuck at the office until he returned them.

    He didn't quite care about her complaints. There were bigger problems that he had to worry about. For instance...the fact that Palmer most likely wanted him dead. The fact that Palmer had already killed at least two people he knew of, his wife and Rafael. The fact that the woman he loved now probably didn't want anything to do with him since he'd told her about the vasectomy. Granted, he had been honest with her about not wanting children from the get-go, but still...there was a reason he'd kept the vasectomy a secret from her. On some level he'd known that the vasectomy would be a borderline dealbreaker for her. Now, in addition to those problems, there was a fourth: the shrine he'd found in Bridgette's apartment, the shrine that was dedicated to him. Photos of him posted to her wall, some of them with red X's drawn over his eyes and others with hearts drawn around them.

    The apartment had been a complete mess. All of her belongings were tossed around haphazardly, as if someone had ransacked the place. She may have been telling the truth about that. But seeing photos of himself strewn all over her apartment had been extremely disturbing, to say the least. He'd found a long body pillow in her bed, and on that pillow had been a printout of one of his photos. His face pinned to her pillow.

    He stood just outside of her apartment building as the first raindrops started to fall. The woman who'd been working for him for years and the woman who was expecting to stay the night in his condo, had several screws loose. And he had to figure out what to do with that information.

~~~~~~

    She was walking down a long hall. Nothing but black and white. Black ceiling, black floor, white walls. The only visible color was the red blood coursing down the walls.

    Someone stood at the end of the hall and she was walking towards them. She didn't know why; she couldn't even tell who it was from this distance. But she continued walking, until the person came into view. It was Carlos.

    "Oh my God! Carlos! You're okay! I thought you were dead!"

    "I am," Carlos said, only his voice didn't sound like his own. It was distorted. "I am. We all are."

    Her steps slowed down. "But no. You're standing right here. You're okay."

    "I'm here, but I'm not here," he said cryptically. "And when Palmer wants to tie a loose end, he ties it. Don't come looking for me. You won't find me."

    Liquid sloshed around her bare feet. Hesitant to take her eyes off of Carlos, she looked down. Six inches of blood rippled around her ankles. A scream built up in her throat. She looked up to ask Carlos what was happening, but he was gone. She turned around in a circle. The walls were nearly covered in blood.

    Carlos's distorted voice reached her ears. "If he wants to find you, he will find you. And you will end up just like me. Just like Rafael, the man he killed. Just like his wife. Don't cross him. You'll regret it...you'll regret it...you'll regret it..."

    A loud crack of thunder shook Destiny awake. She bolted upright in bed, looking around frantically. She was in a dark bedroom. Everything looked normal. No blood on the walls, no creepy Carlos with vague warnings.

    Lightning flashed outside of the bedroom window, shortly followed by another crack of thunder. She tossed the covers aside and threw her legs over the side of the bed. Then she stood up and tiptoed outside of her room.

    She moved down the hall slowly, weighing the consequences of the action she was considering. Rain pummeled the roof of the house. There's no way I'm going to get any sleep in that room by myself. She went to stand in front of Brian's bedroom door. Biting her bottom lip, she raised a hand to knock on the door, but hesitated before knocking. This wasn't a good idea. This was the opposite of a good idea; this was a horrible idea. But I'm scared...and while I'd love it if Aubrey were here for me to sleep with, he's not here. Brian is. Shoving away all of her doubts, she knocked on the door.

    Nothing.

    She knocked again, and this time a tiny sliver of light flashed on beneath the crack in the door. She heard rustling inside of the room. Rustling followed by footsteps. A moment later, the door opened and a shirtless Brian stood just inside of the room, holding onto the doorknob with one hand and sleepily rubbing one eye with the other. "Destiny?" he croaked out.

    "I'm sorry," she apologized hurriedly. "I had a nightmare. A really bad one. And then there's a storm..."

    Another loud rumble of thunder, validating her words.

    He squinted down at her. "Are you okay?" he mumbled.

    "Yeah, I just...I was wondering if I could sleep with you tonight."

    His eyebrows shot up, then furrowed. "Umm...yeah, of course. Sure." He stood back to allow her in.

    She walked into his room, glancing around. A lone lamp on the nightstand lit the room; he must have turned it on after hearing her knock. Soft trance music was playing.

    "The music helps me sleep," he explained as if reading her mind. "It's hard for me to sleep without background noise."

    "Me too," she confessed, her eyes moving to the large bed against the wall. Am I really about to get in bed with him?

    "Do you prefer a side?" he asked her.

    "Me? No, not really."

    He walked around the bed and got in on the other side. Then he looked up at her expectantly.

    She slowly drew back the covers and climbed in the bed.

    He reached over, turned off the lamp, and settled back into bed. Moments of silence passed, and then he asked, "What was your nightmare about?"

    She slid down into the bed and rested her head back against the pillows. "There was blood on the walls. And on the floor. And Carlos, he was telling me that he was dead. He said I shouldn't look for him but said that whoever Palmer wants, he gets." She shuddered even now, at the thought. "It was so creepy. It felt so real. The blood around my feet...I could feel it."

    "It's okay. You're okay now," he said, his voice sounding groggy.

    "I'm sorry I woke you up."

    "No, it's fine. If you need me, come get me. That's what you're supposed to do."

    She clutched the covers to her chest. It did feel good to be lying beside someone. It felt good not to be in bed alone in a dark room.

    Rain pounded on the windows of Brian's bedroom, and there was more thunder. This was no quiet storm. Sometimes the thunder was so loud, it made her gasp.

    "Come here," Brian told her.

    "No, I should just...stay over here. On my side."

    "Come here," he said again.

    She stared at him, just as another thunderous boom shook the house. Yearning blossomed within her, yearning to be close to someone, yearning to be held. She moved a little bit closer to him, but still left a large gap.

    He smiled at her and his eyes crinkled at the corners. "Closer than that."

    "Brian..."

    "I'm not going to do anything. I promise."

    She moved closer to him again, close enough that her forehead was nearly touching his nose.

    He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her even closer. Then he closed his eyes. "Goodnight, Destiny."

    Her voice trembled as she said, "Goodnight, Brian."