Wicked Obsession

27.

Monday, July 29

I never imagined that "listening to his story" would mean traveling across the country, but here I am. Bags paced, company jet fueled, and on the way to Salem, Massachusetts. Harry said that the only way for him to explain, really explain, was to take me to where he is from.

I'm nervous about being alone with him, especially so far away from home. Then again if I went missing in either place, no one would look for me so it hardly matters. Danger lurks wherever Harry is near, for that I am certain, but I will not live in fear of it. I want to tell him what's in my heart and everything that he longs to hear. I just hope by the end of this trip, that feeling doesn't change.

He hasn't touched or spoken to me since our... discussion yesterday. I can't admit to anything now. Not until I know everything. I look over at Harry sitting across from me. He doesn't notice me because he's staring out the window, a serious look in his emerald eyes. His brown hair is pushed back and slightly wavy from its natural curl. A long thumb and pointer finger of one hand holds his bottom lip captive, while the other hand rests on his thigh. The top 3 buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing the swallows and butterfly inked into the skin just beneath. A Greek statue, all smooth edges and flawless beauty. The idea that something so heartbreakingly alluring is so evil is almost inconceivable.

"Did you get them before or after you became... What you are?" I ask, breaking the uncomfortable silence nice.

He turns to me slowly, a brief smile over his lips at my unwillingness to say the word 'demon'. "To what are you referring?"

I move quickly from where I am to sit next to him, giving him no choice but to be close. His smile fades but he doesn't move or say anything, waiting for my next move. I lift my hand hesitantly to trace the top part of his butterfly.

"Your tattoos." I murmur, losing myself in the smoothness and sending a shiver down my spine. "You have so many."

A slow, deep exhale follows and he moves away so I can't touch him. I ignore the sting in my heart as he buttons his shirt and turns back to the window.

"After." He answers, offering no further explanation.

My fingers sting a little and a feeling that I have never felt before, rises from his rejection. Since when did I become this way, needy for his touch and craving his attention. I fucking hate it but not enough to change how I feel. He will talk to me, one way or another. I can't spend this whole fight in silence.

"Did I do something?" I snap, crossing my arms over my chest.

"You have no patience." He smiles slightly, looking at me once more. "I suppose it isn't your fault, you have a wildness about you. I admire it and yet I am enraged that I cannot contain it."

He touches my cheek gently and my breathing falters, relishing the brief contact. His eyes explore mine, trying to unlock me from the inside out.

"You're ignoring me." I pout jerking my head away from his caress, two can play his game.

"I'm speaking to you right now." He chuckles at me and my childish attitude.

"Forget it." I grumble, annoyed that I brought it up in the first place. I move back to my original spot, crossing my arms over my chest and staring out the window.