Her Secret Salvation

Chapter Eleven

Lucille

Though he was far enough that I couldn't see his eyes– a smile was painted firmly on his face. The white teeth almost created their own light as he sat cross legged– fiddling with a flower he'd picked from the field. He watched me, tearing petals from the plant he twirled between his fingers. I was worried this man was chasing me– gaining on me– and here he sat content, worry-free. The dread already mounting within me grew impossibly larger– freezing me in place.

"Hello again, little prize," he shouted.

I must have gotten turned around somewhere; all my efforts had been wasted.

"I'll forgive you, just this once– if you drop the escape act and get back over here to finish what we started, Lucy," he called out. I hated the way the nickname sounded on his lips. He didn't know me well enough to use it.

I gained control of my body well enough to turn around. Surveying the trees again– over my dead body would I come to him willingly. The curiosity that had plagued me earlier had turned to harsh regret. How could I be so stupid? He had used my attraction for him against me.

"Run, run yourself silly, but you'll still end up right back here, with me." His voice was closer, he must have gotten up when I turned away from him and gained some distance.

This was torture– real torture, heartbreaking, will-crushing, crippling torture. There was no escape from this man that had forced his way into my own little piece of heaven– he was a demon in the most delicious host.

Lowering, kneeling in front of me– he placed two fingers under my chin. Trying to force me to look up at him, I kept my eyes glued shut. He leaned down to rest his forehead against my own again. Every time he did this, he tried connecting to the sacred part of myself within. I let my thorns rise high, thicken, and curl amongst themselves– I would protect this part of me at all costs, it was mine...

"Let me worship you, Lucille, let me kneel at that pool and pour myself into you– let me taste your oceans and breathe fire into your veins," he spoke quietly. Most alluring when he spoke like this, no sarcasm or whimsy– no game being played– he was intentional, pulling me into a trance and this time I felt it coming.

Reaching out with both hands– I pushed him as hard as I possibly could, breaking his connection and concentration. The fire within me died instantly– the pull he had on me was broken.

He fell onto his back, and rolled around, barking out a laugh. "Oh, you make this so deliciously challenging, little prize," he said as he laughed– there was a little anger behind it this time, the bite in the way he used his nickname for me felt sinister.

"Back. Off," I spat.

"Or what, little prize?" he asked as he laid on the ground– staring at the sky. I didn't have a response for him– social expertise was never my strong suit, and it looked as if it never would be.

He lifted his head to look at me. "You are so breathtakingly beautiful when you run out of words to say," he said, his eyes boring into me once again– attempting to set a different fire within me. I couldn't let that happen.

"Fuck. You," I spoke again– huffing, defeat stilling me slowly. Completely hopeless– the anger seethed within me.

He chuckled again, rising to stand and brush his legs free of dirt and grass. He was in the same clothes as before, which was strange to me– a black t-shirt and dark denim jeans with black converse sneakers. Whenever I had entered my dream world– my wardrobe changed to whatever my brain had dreamed up and it was never something I owned in the real world. The simple shirt hugged him just enough to show the muscle definition beneath. Danger– it oozed from him– making my knees wobble as I stood and witnessed it. His long hair was pulled back into a golden knot tied loosely at the nape of his neck– lazy and messy.