Reborn Deceit

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Rose

Rose was not avoiding Damian.

If her heart started hammering away in her chest at a level that was almost painful when she glanced out the window, it was because she was suddenly nervous about this impending attack on her, not because she saw his car parked at the curb in front of her apartment. If she took longer than usual to get ready and didn't end up walking out of her apartment and locking the door until over half an hour later than she had originally planned, it was because her hair had refused to do as she wished, not because she was delaying having to see him. And if she took off sprinting right out of her apartment door rather than starting her run with a well-paced jog, it was because she had too much coffee that morning and had more pent up energy than usual, not because she was trying to avoid a confrontation with him.

Rose was defiantly not avoiding him.

She didn't need to look behind her to know he was following. It was the same drill every day. Ever since the attacks first happened on her, and especially now that the Demons were congregating around Riverside, something that they apparently never did, Rose had a bodyguard with her at all times. Why it had to be Damian the day after she kissed him, Rose had no idea.

The kiss had kept her awake most of the night. She felt humiliated. There was no more denying that she was attracted to him. Hell, what woman in their right mind wouldn't be? But to think he would reciprocate those feelings was ludicrous. He was hot, she was not. For those few seconds where he had kissed her back, Rose felt like she was floating on cloud nine. Then he pulled away, not even trying to hide his shock, and it was a punch straight to Roses ego. He probably felt just as awkward as she did having to be around her today. Rose actually hated herself for making things this bad.

When she heard his footsteps behind her, Rose picked up the speed. By the sound of his footfalls, he did the same. Not wanting to risk making an even bigger fool of herself, Rose raised her speed to an all-out sprint. It was obvious she was trying to outrun him, and she only hoped he would pick up on this and let her go, because she was definitely not going to be able to keep this pace up for long. He was bigger, stronger, and in much better shape than her. When it came to a race, he would win, hands down.

Still, he picked up speed, and to Roses utter humiliation, he was at her side in a matter of seconds. Rose kept her gaze fixed ahead, dark sunglasses hiding her eyes and, hopefully, her grim expression. Breaths coming out in very unattractive gasps, Rose refused to let his presence alter her speed.

"You're going to run yourself into the ground." Rose had the satisfaction of hearing his words come out in airy gasps, proof that this pace was affecting him as well. Clearly, not as much as it was affecting her, but still. It was a small win for Rose, one that she tucked into her imaginary back pocket for later.

Rose remained quiet, mouth pulled shut in a grim expression (well, as shut as she could get it while still breathing), legs burning for her to slow down or, better yet, stop altogether. She wouldn't—couldn't—reply to him. What could she possibly say? Her words, her tone, would give away her emotions. As much as she hated to admit it, she was hurt by his rejection, but she refused to let him know that.

"Rose, stop." His large hand wrapped around her small arm, which Rose made to shake off instantly. Except, he was much stronger than her, and he was able to pull her to a stop without any trouble. Only when she had finally came to a standstill beside him, gasping in mouthfuls of air, did he let go of her.

Slightly hunched over, trying to calm her racing heart and burning lungs, Rose still avoided his gaze. However, she couldn't help but take him in. Black running shorts, white airy t-shirt, dark sunglasses, black sneakers; he looked hot in anything he wore. That was the biggest difference between them. While she looked sweaty and out of shape, a woman who shouldn't be comfortable running in public in her current state, he looked effortlessly fit, a man comfortable in his own skin, despite any circumstance. No wonder he didn't want her.