Coffee and Cream

Love and Fear

EMRYS

Nathan cornered me, and I could already tell this conversation was going to be an annoyance. His posture was tense, arms crossed like he was trying to hold himself together. His eyes, those damn eyes, filled with concern—genuine concern—for Darcelle. He was here for her, and as much as I hated to admit it, his protectiveness over her made me want to slit his throat.

"What the fuck is your deal, Emrys?" Nathan asked, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the silence of the empty corridor. "What are you doing to Darcelle? She's not the same. She's slipping away, and you're just standing there, letting it happen. Do you even care?"

I could feel the irritation bubbling beneath my skin, and I clenched my fists to keep myself from doing something I'd regret. Well, something he'd regret. The desire to end him—right there, right then—was almost unbearable. But I couldn't. Not yet.

"What happens between Darcelle and me?" I started, my voice calm and detached, "Is none of your business, Nathan?" If she hasn't told you anything, then maybe you should take the fucking hint. She doesn't want you in our business."

Nathan scoffed, taking a step closer, his eyes boring into mine. "I'm here because she's not herself. I've known Darc a hell of a lot longer than you have, and I'm looking out for her. You're changing her, and not in a good way. What are you even doing to her?"

I couldn't help but smirk. "You're jealous, aren't you?" I took a step toward him, tilting my head slightly as I sized him up. "You hate that she's slipping away from you. You hate that she's happier with me. Tell me, Nathan—when was the last time you saw her smile like she does with me?"

Nathan's jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring slightly. "She was happy before you. She didn't need you to—"

"Which version of her is happier?" I cut him off, my voice low, almost a whisper. "This version, with me? Or the version you had to yourself—the one who was constantly miserable, constantly questioning everything?" I leaned in closer, my breath brushing against his cheek as I whispered, "She's mine now, Nathan. She'll never be yours again."

He took a step back, clearly rattled but trying to maintain his composure. "You're dangerous," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "You're going to destroy her, Emrys. And when that happens, you'll have nothing."

I laughed, the sound echoing in the empty hall. "You don't know anything about me or her, for that matter. Darcelle and I... we're beyond whatever petty little feelings you have for her." I tilted my head again, looking at him like he was nothing more than an insect. "You think you're protecting her, but all you're doing is standing in the way."

Nathan's hands clenched into fists, but I could see the doubt creeping into his eyes. He didn't know how to get to me—how to reach Darcelle anymore. I had already won.

"You should let go, Nathan," I said, my voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Move on. It'll be easier for both of you."

Nathan didn't say anything. He just stood there, staring at me, as if trying to figure out what his next move would be. But there was no next move. I had already cornered him. He was stuck, just like Darcelle was, in my web. I left him standing there, his mouth slightly open like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

I needed to call Darcelle. I needed to get away from this pointless confrontation. I wanted to feel her, hear her, drown in her.

I called her, my fingers tapping against the steering wheel as I drove aimlessly, waiting for her to pick up.

"If you could go anywhere in the world right now," I asked when she answered, "where would it be?"

She didn't hesitate. "Bali."

I smiled, imagining her wide eyes as she spoke. "Pack your bags. We're going this weekend."

On our last night in Bali, I watched her sleep. She looked so peaceful, so pure in the dim moonlight that filtered through the curtains. I couldn't sleep, though. I never could. The thrill of the hunt still buzzed under my skin, the need for release gnawing at my insides. I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her, and grabbed the knives I'd packed.

I moved silently through the night, my blood and my heart steady as I stalked my prey. A local farmer had made a pass at Isabelle earlier that day when we were walking through the market. It wasn't jealousy that drove me—it was something darker, something twisted that wanted to teach him a lesson. He deserved to die slowly.

The sound of his flesh tearing beneath my blade was music to my ears. I stuffed his mouth with sand and grass to muffle his screams as I peeled his skin back, layer by layer. His eyes bulged in horror, his body trembling with each cut, and I relished every second of it. He was nothing—a worm squirming under the heel of my boot.

When we returned to the States, I felt lighter. Cleansed. Like the blood I'd spilled had washed away the tension building inside me. Darcelle and I lay on the floor in my living room, exhausted but somehow reborn.

"Would you ever jump off a cliff with me?" I asked her, staring at the ceiling, the question hanging in the air like a challenge.

She turned her head to look at me, a small smile playing on her lips. "Why? You want to push me off?"

I laughed softly, but there was seriousness to my question. "I mean it. Would you? No safety net. Just the two of us, diving headfirst into the unknown."

Darcelle's eyes softened, and she nodded. "Yeah. I'd jump."

And that's when I knew. Whatever this was—this bond between us—it was unbreakable. She was mine, and I was hers. Forever.