Sorry

four

abia kamin

Residents in Langley were well off, so it was normal for homes to be large. Sylvester mansion had the most notoriety for its grand size and architecture. The Sylvester family lived there for decades before they sold it to a family unfamiliar and new to our town. The history embedded in the mansion walls were torn down for the construction of a new home. Expectedly, the decision received heat from unhappy neighbours.

Sylvester mansion was a town staple—we all loved it. It held town meetings, potlucks, parties. For years before the Sylvesters officially sold the property, the mansion remained open for communal it. Until the Ardon family bought and destroyed the property—Rowan and Mateo's family.

My fist knocked against the large doors, holding the glass lunch container in my hand. Roofing for the house was flat with large windows for the amazing view they had. A driveway with a beautiful fountain pouring water at the centre. While lacking the intricate engravings and arched entryways of Sylvester mansion, I could still admire the architecture of the home. The exterior of the home was vacant of much colour, but the dark woods and stones blended together well.

"Abia," Rowan opened the door with shock in his voice. My presence was unannounced. I liked it better that way.

"Is Mateo home?"

He opened his mouth to speak, stopping when he did not know what to say. The truth would have been nice. Instead, he opened the door more. Stepping into the home, I admired the high ceilings. Chandeliers dangled, creating rainbow prisms that reflected onto the wall. The interior was dark. Grand staircases on either side, going up to meet in the middle with a balcony to overlook anyone coming into the home.

"Up the stairs to the right. Third door on the left." The grin on his face made my stomach twirl. He knew something that he refrained from telling me.

Taking my shoes off, I pushed them to the side and went up the stairs. There were portraits at the top. A family of five with a girl I assumed was their older sister. Everyone in the photos had gleeful smiles on their faces while Mateo stood looking blankly at the camera. I followed the directions, knocking on the door I expected to be Mateo's. There was silence even with my second knock. Twisting the knob, I peeped my head into the room. I had no expectations for his room. But it surprised me.

Clean and well kept. Like the only thing he could control was the appearance of his room, the only thing put together in his life. His bed rested against a black velvet wall, matching his all black sheets and bedding. The wall straight across was complete glass, a perfect view of their backyard that was ready to entertain. Their home rested at the top of a hill.

I opened the door more, inching closer to the nightstand with the photo of me. I wore a red corset dress that suited my body perfectly. White gloves covered my fingers to my elbows. Wrapped around me from the back was a man identical to Mateo except with the widest smile. This woman had my face, but was not me. I brought the photo in my hand, turning it to see the back. September 12, 1934. In disbelief, I set the photo down and opened the nightstand. A sack with red fluid inside. A blood bag.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

I jumped, hearing the bedroom door slam shut. Mateo stood shirtless, sweat glistening along his naked chest. Ink covered huge portions of his arms and chest, along with his thighs. The shorts he wore covered most, but the tattoos still made an appearance.

"I was just...your brother said you were going through shit. I baked you cookies. They usually help when I'm stressed," I found my train of thought when I looked away from him. But his glare felt as if it was bringing death upon me. I set the lunch container on his bed.

"So why are you in my room?" That was a bold question for him to ask. He chose to come to my room late at night, through my window. At least I came through the front door and was actually invited into his house.

"Why do you have this picture of me? I mean, not me. But this woman with my face and this man that looks like you. The date says-"

"Get out," he ordered sharply. His statement left no room for me to ask questions, yet that was exactly what I did.

"Why is there a blood bag in your night stand? Do you realize how-" I stopped, his hand going around my neck for him to slam me against his wall. One minute he was by the door and the next he was an inch away. I could feel exactly where the bruising would be a couple hours from now. Even with his anger, I felt his attempt to be more gentle than he normally would be.

"You need to leave. I'm not going to ask again," he gritted through his teeth. Fear filled my eyes, as I let my hand go over his. I was scared, but deep down I knew he would not hurt me and I don't know why. I could see how much he was holding back, like he had no intentions of actually hurting me.

A normal person would run. They should run. He's double my size and anger is something he's good at. But I refused to let my fear control me, especially because I couldn't help but soak up every ounce of attention he gave me.

Placing my hand to his cheek, my thumb rubbed along the side of his face. The stubble under my hand told me he was soon in need of a shave. His head came closer, falling into my hand at the feel of my touch. Like he had been longing for it. My lips parted, feeling his lips touch my neck. They were warm and possessive. Tilting my head up, I gave him further access. I did not know how bad I wanted him until then. A soft moan left my lips as I felt his tongue run across my neck with small nibbles in all the right places.

I bit my lip, his hands finding their way under my shirt. When his hand rose higher, he discovered for himself that I wasn't wearing a bra. He groaned in approval before bringing my nipple between his finger. I wanted to be touched so bad. The way his thumb and index finger played with my nipple made heat form between my legs. His teeth dug deeper into my neck as my eyes fell shut from how good it felt to have his tongue soothe the pain.

"I can't do this," his hot breath spoke on my neck with a groan. His words said one thing, but his body another. Placing his hips on mine, his erection between his legs pressed onto my stomach. I wanted him and he clearly wanted me.

"Is this about Ryan? Because I'm done with him. We haven't had a talk yet but I'm done," I clarified.

Ryan and I's situation was messy. The relationship ended long before I knew of him cheating. The cheating just happened to be my excuse for wanting something better. But I was scared to make that huge leap alone.

It wasn't until my fingers pulled at the drawstrings of his shorts that he stopped me. "This isn't about Ryan, Abia, it's about you!" He growled as he rose his voice at me. My skin went cold. His behaviour was hot and cold. I could barely keep up. "So you need to leave, now!" The yelling wasn't the deciding factor in my decision to leave. His eyes turning a glowing red was. His canines poked out as he spoke, revealing how much they had grown in size.

It started to click. The same glowing eyes from when I was in the forest that night. He was the one. I did not stick around to ask questions. I spent an hour sitting in my car down the street, trying to figure out what I had seen. Was I was supposed to be afraid, or amazed at the creature Mateo was?