Dark Savior: A Dark Bad Boy Romance (10 page)

I wonder where he lives, where he goes every time he leaves me here alone. And I wonder why this apartment still looks exactly as it did when his mother was still living here. He said he just didn't have time to "wrap things up", but somehow I don't believe that's all there is to it.

I wander around the place, wearing another sweater and pants he gave me. I washed my underwear and the dress I was wearing when he found me, and since there's no dryer in this place, I left the clothes hanging outside the window to dry. However, I don't know if I could ever wear that dress again. I was meant to die in it, to join Sonya wherever she might have gone after she was killed.

As I wander through the apartment, I find myself trying to open the door to the other bedroom once again. Of course, it's locked. It always is. I saw him getting a key from his pants every time he went in there to fetch more clothes for me, but he never lets me take even the slightest peek inside. In fact, he was super careful to prevent me from seeing anything, which only makes my curiosity grow.

What's inside that room? If he's lived here with his mother before, it could be his old room. It must be. But he's older than me and unless he moved out in his mid-twenties, that room must have been unused for a very long time. Maybe it just serves as a guest room? But why wouldn't he let me in there?

I go down on my knees in front of the doorknob and inspect the lock to see what kind of key would fit in it. I've never picked a lock before, but with how curious I am and how desperate I am for some distraction, I'm considering to have a go at this one.

I have a good look at it, but don't learn anything that would give me a clue how to do this. Don't people open doors with credit cards or something similar? How on earth does that work? Would it work with this door?

I roam the apartment without any real motivation for finding something that could help me open that door. I know I wouldn't be able to do it. What I need is the key.

The key that Kade carries around in his pants. He takes off those pants every time he comes by, so there might be a chance for me get the key when he's not looking. It would certainly bring me closer to the truth than asking him. I just have to be very careful and not let him catch me.

I make myself a cup of tea and sit down on the sofa, taking one of the books from the shelf with the intention of reading it, but instead, I absentmindedly stare out the window and can't stop my thoughts from returning to that dreadful time.

They never found the guy who did it. I don't know if it really matters to me that much because any thought of revenge is still overshadowed by my grief. They said the case might be connected to others out of state, some even here in Albany.

The case. My sister has become a case. An unresolved case.

The police investigating Sonya’s case might be the only people who notice my disappearance, as they continued to contact me every time they found out something new or had another question for me. Despite being known as somewhat of a party girl, I never had many friends. Most of the people I knew were acquaintances, those I met as members of other groups, like at that party. It was the last party I ever went to, but not the last time I got drunk. Alcohol has become the one and only companion who can really numb me enough to sleep.

I wonder about Lisa. We were never that close, but she was a true friend during that terrible time. She tried to be there for me as much as she could, even when I told her that I was okay. She was at the funeral, which was a very sad affair because not many people showed up and the ones who did were a reflection of the painstaking life Sonya had led. Coworkers, her boss, her lawyer, our social worker. She had one friend who showed up with her husband and appeared to be just as heartbroken as I was. It made me glad to see that someone besides me knew what a great person Sonya was.

Lisa held my hand the entire time, and it should have helped me, but it only made me realize how lonely I was. I have no family left. No one. The only person who was concerned about my well-being now was the social worker who had been responsible for us since our parents died. She's a nice lady, but I'm too aware that her concern is merely on a professional level. And Lisa has her own life and her own troubles.

I slowly cut her out of my life when I realized that I was no longer able to stay. It was a progress, no sudden fight or cutting her loose in a mean and sudden move. I just relied on her less and less and made her feel like I was fine and focusing on getting back on my feet while I’m away at college. Some people would call it growing apart. Still, I think Lisa will notice that I’m gone, too, eventually.

I wonder if they’re already looking for me. Probably not. It’s only been a few days, and I’ve been gone for more than a week before without any social interaction with anybody. I haven’t had any access to the internet since I dropped my backpack with my phone inside of it down into the canyon. I’d attached weights to the backpack hoping that it wouldn’t resurface in the near future.

It’s all gone. My entire life has been wiped out. The only part that’s left is me.

I don’t even notice that tears are running down my cheeks again until I hear him fiddling at the lock from the outside of the door. The door opens, and just like every day, Kade is standing there, tall and dark and handsome, with his wild hair partially covering his hazel eyes as he looks at me with an intense gaze.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Meadow

“So, this is how it’s gonna’ be?” he asks. “You’re gonna’ sit there crying every time I show up, and beg me to fuck it away?”

I frown at him. This guy really sucks at consoling people. Besides, there were many times when I wasn’t crying when he showed up. So what he’s saying doesn’t even make sense.

“You don’t have to do anything,” I hiss at him, and hurry to wipe away the tears from my face. “I’m fine.”

“The fuck you are,” he objects, closing the door behind him.

He walks over to the counter and places another bag of groceries down. I wonder what it is this time. Pasta? Sandwiches? I haven’t seen much else since he brought me here, but I don’t mind one bit. Food has become nothing but a necessity for me. I don’t enjoy it one bit and couldn’t say what I like or dislike because it just doesn’t matter to me anymore. The only reason I eat is to silence the pain of hunger.

Kade hates that. He has commented on my eating behavior before. According to him, I don’t eat enough, and I don’t display the kind of enjoyment one should from eating.

“Come here,” he says, while taking off his jacket.

I get up from the sofa and approach him like an obedient puppy. When I come to a halt next to him, he does something unusual. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me up close against his hard and strong body as he claims me with a greedy kiss. I’m too stunned to protest, but once I taste him, I no longer want to anyway, I just want to melt away into him. He has never welcomed me with a kiss, never craved me as soon as he walked through the door.

“You can’t go on like this,” he says between our kisses, catching my eyes with his.

My heart sinks. He wants me out. I should have known.

“I know, I’m sorry I—”

“No, you don’t know,” he interrupts. “You know how to take pleasure when I force it on you. But you don’t know how to appreciate life. The little things, as they say.”

His grip around me loosens and I lower my eyes, feeling ashamed. I don’t know if he’s calling me ungrateful, but I’d hate for him to see me that way.

“It’s not about the little things sometimes,” I say in a low voice.

He places his hands on my shoulders. “Look at me.”

Again, I obey, lifting my gaze to meet his.

He’s looking especially handsome today. I hadn’t noticed it before, but his hair is different. It’s not as tousled as usual, but instead it’s combed to the side and styled with hair gel. Usually, one of his eyes is partly covered by hair strands falling down over his face, but there isn’t. And he’s shaved, too. The stubble around his strong jawline is shorter and almost non-existent. It’s the first time that I notice a little scar right next to his left eye. The kind of scar that could have resulted from someone punching him in the face.

“I know you didn’t stand on that bridge simply because you fail to appreciate the simple things in life,” he says. “But it’s the only part that I feel I can fix for now.”

He wants to fix me? As much as my heart sank before, when I thought he was about to tell me to leave, it jumps even higher at the idea of him wanting to make things better for me. I just don’t know if he’ll be successful.

“How?” I ask, looking at him with curious eyes. “How do you want to fix me?”

He smiles, and it’s the weirdest thing to me. I don’t know if it’s just while he’s with me or a general thing, but he doesn’t strike me as a man who smiles a lot. I know he’s shielded for a reason and there are things he doesn’t want me to know. A lot of things. The average white-collar employee without any major skeletons in his closet would not sport a scar like this on his face and upper body. This man has been in a lot of fights, and while all his physical wounds are healed, the experiences he’s endured have probably left a lot more internal scars.

I like that about him, but I don’t know why.

“Well, I’ve heard a lot of people enjoy cooking,” he says. “I know very little about that, but I brought the closest thing I could think of.”

He gestures over to the bag of groceries. I follow his gesture and rummage through the bag, pulling out item after item. Tomato sauce, cheese, vegetables, pepperoni, and pizza dough.

Now I’m the one smiling. “You want me to make pizza, huh?”

“
We’re
going to make pizza,” he corrects, pulling me back into his arms. He places the tip of his index finger below my chin and lifts my eyes up to meet his. “But I have one condition.”

“What?” I ask, my heart pounding against my ribs like a wild animal banging against its cage.

He leans forward and leaves a gentle kiss at the side of my mouth, before he moves closer to my ear, whispering, “You have to be naked.”

I blush and a faint gasp escapes my mouth. The way he’s talking to me, owning me, is so erotic. There’s no way I could say no to him.

“The entire time?” I ask.

He nods. “I want you naked and ready for me to fuck you whenever I damn well please.”

A few minutes later, I’m standing next to him in the kitchen, rolling out the pizza dough while he’s chopping up vegetables. He feeds me little bites in between and every so often, I can feel his hand on my ass or a fingertip running along the side of my naked body, causing the little hairs on my arms to stand up on end. His constant teasing and the fact that I’m naked add up to a toxic mix that keeps me in a constant state of arousal.

He asks me to put the pizza in the oven, and as soon as I close the oven door, I can feel his hand between my legs. He’s standing behind me, while I freeze mid-motion, placing my hands at the edge of the counter top.

“Move your feet apart,” he whispers behind me. “And stay. Don’t move.”

I do as I’m told, and his fingers immediately spread my lips, and start caressing along my swollen inner parts.

“Glad to see you enjoy cooking with me,” he says, and I can hear the smirk on his face without seeing it. “Very good girl. Wet and ready for me, just like I told you to be.”

I moan when he strikes along my throbbing clit. His touch is gentle, but intensified by my anticipated readiness and arousal. I’m ready for him, there’s no doubt about that.

He continues to prove that he knows how to work my body, by massaging and torturing my most sensitive spot in just the right way. I stay in place as he told me to, but my hips start gyrating in circles as I’m grinding on his skillful hand, wanting more of him. I don’t know if he wants to make me come this way, but I’m sure I could.

I can hear him unfastening his belt with one hand, while he continues to please me with the other. Soon, I can feel the wet tip of his hard cock poking against my ass cheeks, teasing me until he withdraws his hand and quickly replaces it with his member. I moan when he spreads me apart with his considerable girth.

His thrusts are slow, but deep. He grabs me by the hips, lifting me up so that I’m forced to stand on my toes while he fucks me from behind. I love feeling him inside of me. It feels so right. I never understood what people meant when they said someone makes them feel complete, but I think I’m beginning to get an idea now. I feel like a different person when we are this close together. I feel like I belong somewhere, with him. His presence, his need for me and the attention he gives me — all of it overshadows the sadness of my life.

He drives into me with powerful force, taking and giving at the same time. I cherish every single one of his thrusts, dizzy and aching with yearning and overcome with pleasure as he continues driving into me faster and harder. His hands are still on my hips, pinching into my flesh with such fierceness that it’s almost painful.

Just when I think that I’m about to climax, he withdraws and turns me around to lift me up on the counter top. I support myself with my arms behind my back while he takes both of my legs and rams into me with the same intensity as before.

His pants drop down to his feet and when they hit the floor, I hear a metallic sound that reminds me of my earlier endeavors.

The keys.

I’m distracted for a moment, focusing on the pants on the floor instead of on him and what’s happening between us.

“Meadow,” he says, trying to catch my attention. I think it’s the first time I ever heard him say my name out loud.

He underpins his voice with an especially deep thrust, causing me to gasp for air as I lift my eyes up to meet his.

“You all right?” he asks, stopping his motions for a moment, his cock buried deep inside me. I love the feeling of being pinned down by him like this and I subtly grind my hips around his length.

“Yes,” I whisper. “Fuck me.”

He raises one of his eyebrows with suspicion, but doesn’t hesitate to obey my demand. We knock over a bunch of cooking utensils that were still lying around on the counter top, but he seems to care as little about them as I do.