Limerence (3 page)

His eyes dart from me to Mr Breckt. Oliver, it seems, is back. I look down at my feet, acutely aware of how I’ve gotten myself into this situation. Definitely the drooling.

Damn it. What the hell has gotten in to me?

If Mr Breckt notices Oliver’s tone, he doesn’t let on. Or he simply doesn’t care enough to warrant him with a response.

“Come, I shall take you back to your car, Mia. I assume that you are finished here.” He holds out his hand to me.

I stare at it and then look to Oliver. This isn’t going to go down well, and who can blame him.

Oliver fumbles with his words for a second or two before piping in, his cheeks glowing red. “I umm, I’ll walk her back to her car, Mr Breckt. She’s my fiancée after all.” His reply comes from anger and not embarrassment. He takes my hand and pulls me close to his side possessively.

I notice he’s standing taller, his head held high and shoulders pushed back. I can’t help but feel pleased that he’s standing up for me, for us. Especially since I seem to be playing the villain in our relationship at this moment in time, but I’m not sure now is the right time to be doing it. This is his employer—what harm can it do to let him walk me back to my car?

Or maybe I’m disheartened that I won’t be spending any more time with Mr Breckt? I am a bad, bad girlfriend.

I mentally shake my head and tut at my behaviour. There’s a name for girls like me, but it’s as if my mind and body are not my own right now.

Mr Breckt’s smile turns up higher as he steps closer to me. He looks over to Oliver. “Don’t be silly. You have work to do, boy. Come with me, beautiful Mia.”

He smells clean, fresh—with a masculine and musky undertone—as he comes closer. He reaches for my other hand and lifts it to his mouth. He places a soft kiss on the back of it; his parting lips leave a warm patch in their place. His eyes linger on me for too long. I feel woozy under his gaze, and then as I look him in the eye I feel myself drowning once again. The sweet scents of vanilla and clove wash over me, wiping out all my other senses. Warmth begins in a slow trickle in the pit of my stomach, building up as the heat spreads out, travelling up and down my body. A pleased smile breaks out on his face, and he looks even more attractive than seems physically possible for one person.

Oliver’s voice is quiet behind me. “Mia?” I can feel him tugging gently on my other hand.

Mr Breckt looks from me to Oliver again. He gives a casual glance over to the larger man behind him as a sigh escapes his mouth. His breathe washes over my face. A haze falls about me and I feel the air grow heavy under its weight. Taking a deep breath, I feel my chest tightening, forcing me in turn to take a deeper lungful than the last. Heat flushes my insides, washing between my thighs, and I sigh at the sensation of it all. I am acutely aware that I am standing here holding my boyfriend’s hand whilst his employer is holding my other.

I feel guilty, hot, flustered, and—absurdly—really turned on by it all. How is this possible? Am I dreaming?

Oliver’s voice is strong and insistent. “Mia?” he asks again.

I can hear the hurt in it and guilt surges through me. I close my eyes in shame and pull my hand free from Mr Breckt’s grasp.

A ghost of a frown eclipses Mr Breckt’s face.

“Mia, I would love to spend some time with you.” His voice is barely a whisper, and I struggle with my breathing. A thick condensation has wormed its way down my windpipe, and I hang on his every word like a lovesick teenager.

“But not today, I guess.” He turns on his heel and leaves, his bodyguard following closely behind. With every step away from me, I feel the condensation dissipate. My senses come back to me. I can’t hide the shame from my face as I look to Oliver with tears in my eyes.

“Ollie?” I don’t know what else to say. Words evade me.

What the hell just came over me?

Oliver looks at me with those big beautiful brown eyes, now full of hurt and anger. “I’ll take you to your car, Mia.”

My playful Oliver is lost for the day and he grips my hand tighter and leads me around the building to my car. He stops only when we get there to hold the door open for me. I climb inside to find it’s as hot as an oven. My hands tremble as I hold back the tears, which are threatening to slide down my cheeks at any moment.

“I’ll see you tonight.” His words are flat as he tries to shut the door on me.

“Wait…I’m so sorry, Ollie. I don’t know what just happened. You know that I love you, I…” My words trail off as he bends down at the side of the car and takes my hand once more. Kissing it, he looks up at me.

“I love you too.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what
that
was. But I know it wasn’t you. Or maybe it was.” He shakes his head again.

“No…no, it wasn’t me. I told you, I don’t know what happened.”

His forehead rests heavily on my knees and the tears begin trailing down my face.

“I’ve never wanted to hit someone so much in all my life. I don’t know how I didn’t. I know that you deserve more than I can give you, Mia, but trust me when I say I’m working on it…”

“Ollie, stop it.” I stifle back a miserable sniffle and run my hand through his hair. “I’m so sorry.”
What else can I say?

“I don’t know how I didn’t end up punching him,” Oliver mutters under his breath. “Or why I didn’t.”

I know. It was because he needs this job for us. For our wedding.

However, even while I’m here clutching Oliver’s head in my lap, my thoughts are straying back to Mr Breckt and his beautiful eyes, and I let out an involuntary sob.

“Hey, don’t do that.” He looks up and thumbs the tears away from my face, leaning in to kiss my mouth. “I’ll see you tonight.”

He smiles and shuts the door. The playfulness from my arrival is most definitely well and truly gone. Instead, he now stands sad and perhaps a little bit broken by my betrayal. “I love you,” he mouths silently to me through the glass.

I smile back sadly, but
Bitch
is all I can think as I drive away.

It has been over a hundred years since I’ve felt like this, since I have felt any type of emotion apart from disdain—especially for a human. Yet here I am, thinking of
her
again. The way her hair shone. The way her skin smelled when I kissed the top of her soft hand. I feel a frown cross my brow. This is most inconvenient for me.

“Sir?” It’s Ava’s voice again, hesitant. “Mr Breckt, Sir? Are you ready to go?”

I turn in my chair to look at her. She is small, petite even, with dark features, and a speckling of freckles across her nose. So sweet-looking, but as deadly as a viper. I can see it in her eyes that she feels something is different with me. She does not know what, though, and that’s a good thing. People would begin to question me if they knew how I was feeling…maybe even doubt me. That is the last thing that I need.

I need to stop thinking about her. I have too much to be getting on with as it is; so much is riding on this trip. If I fail the Queen, there will be consequences. Serious consequences. This woman, this human—Mia—she’s the last thing that I need to distract me from my task.

Yet, here she is again in my thoughts. Her pale, smooth skin and soft, pink cheeks that had been begging me to touch them. I don’t understand how she could refuse me; it makes no sense. I would be angry if I weren’t so confused by it all. I shake my head to try to pry the cobwebs of her memory away, and stand to leave.

I catch my reflection in the windowpane, straightening my jacket out. My eyes stare back at me, a piercing green-blue—turquoise, almost. They seem to be humming with excitement. My hair is dark, and my body, which is dressed in the finest of suits as usual, is toned and muscular, with broad shoulders and a sculptured back. People would think me arrogant to be so admiring of myself, but then if they were me…they would be arrogant too. I am special. My powers give me the ability to get whatever I want and whomever I want.

Except her.

A growl emanates in the back of my throat. How had she done that? Resisted me? Anger bubbles in my stomach, and burns through my veins.

Her eyes twinkled,
I remember with a sigh—and just like that, the anger dissipates.

Such extraordinary blue eyes. They clash beautifully with her deep black hair, so long and soft. A smile plays at the corner of my mouth. Of course, she was falling under my spell at the time; that’s why her eyes had twinkled. That’s my power, my strength, but there’s something else about her. I definitely sensed something different about her. I can’t put my finger on it.

Ava is by the door and she clears her throat once again, trying to get my attention. I turn to look at her, stepping away from the large window with another sigh. I have to see her again. It’s the only way I’m going to be able to get on with things and get down to business. She is like a siren calling out to me. I want to wrap my arms around that lithe body of hers, and devour her.

Yes, if I could just see her again, I could have my way with her and then push her from my mind. It’s the only way, the way it has been for as far back as I can remember.

I see. I take. I dismiss.

This fantasising nonsense is just that: nonsense. What the hell is wrong with me? Fantasising about a woman, of all things.

I stride to the doorway and out past Ava, down the long glass hallway, passing various closed doors. As I reach the back foyer I go to the bookshelf along the far wall, pressing my hand against the secret panel on the underside of one of the shelves; the bookcase slides out to one side to reveal a doorway, with concrete steps leading down into darkness. The sound of my feet on the concrete is the only sound to be heard, but I know that Ava is right behind me.

The sound echoes around us the lower we go, until we reach the bottom. It’s dim—the lights are old-fashioned, medieval-style torches, which hang along the walls, lighting the way for me to one of the back chambers. It is much too cliché for my liking; what’s wrong with electricity? It’s the twenty-first century!

I stand outside a chamber and look down the corridor to the rows of heavy wooden doors that face each other; every one of them is locked and dead-bolted. It seems that my Pawns have been busy whilst I have been preoccupied. I smile.
At least that’s something?

I undo the buttons down the front of my jacket, remove it, and place it over Ava’s waiting arm. I tap once on the door, and it’s opened without a word.

Inside the room it is cold and dark, sparse of furniture or comforts. Only Donovan—my guard—and those damn lanterns again. They flicker across the walls, casting strange shadows. Oh, how it all irritates me. This place hasn’t been used in a long time, like most things in the house.

The door shuts behind me and I see a man strapped to a wooden chair, his head hanging low on his chest, his hair sodden with blood around the crown. I glance at Donovan, who grips the man’s hair and lifts his head up to face me. His mouth is set in a hard-determined line, but his eyes widen in fear when he sees me, betraying his true feelings. I fold my arms across my chest and run a finger along my bottom lip in thought. Pacing back and forth in front of this pitiful man like a predator waiting to pounce, my expression is impassive, my eyes cloudy in thought.

The man looks up into my face. “I don’t know what else to tell you, I don’t know anything about the previous owner,” he stammers.

Donovan hits him hard across the head with his enormous fist. “
Sir!
” he bellows into the man’s face.

The man whimpers, and looks away from Donovan’s angry face.

“Did you hear what I said?” Donovan raises his fist in the air, ready to strike again, and the man nods frantically. “I said: did you hear what I said?” Donovan’s face contorts in anger as he beats the man around his head again.

Blood, sweat, and tears stream down his face. “Sir…yes, yes, sorry Sir. I don’t know anything more. I…I swear to you! I’ve never heard of a Mr San. I’ve only lived here for a couple of years.” He looks on pleadingly to us, confusion evident on his face. Further swelling rises to the side of his head, giving it a misshapen appearance. His eyes are swollen, and red as the vessels burst in them. His lips and cheek have split open, blood pouring from each fresh wound.

I stop my pacing and stand in front of him, crouching down so that my eyes are level with his. My stare is unwavering and intense, and I try to focus my thoughts.

Yes, I will go and see her tomorrow. I hesitate. No…that’s too soon. Maybe later in the week—see if I can work her out, find her weakness.

Yes, that’s better, later in the week. Then I can get back to business, back to the real reason I’m here. This woman is a distraction—much too big a distraction to me.

I shake my head in annoyance; I am doing it again. I look deeper into the man’s eyes. He has courage and inner strength, but he’s not stupid. If he knew something, then I would know it by now. This man wants to live. I look deeper still, my eyes scorching into his until he whimpers and then wets himself. I see many things in this poor man’s eyes, but none of them hold any interest for me. He knows nothing of the previous owner of the Island. It had been a long shot anyway. The smell of urine reaches my nose, and I stand back up with a scowl.
Maybe he didn’t have any inner strength after all.

Tutting, I take my jacket back from Ava and put it on, fastening the buttons down the front and move to the door to leave.

“Sir?” Ava, again.

I turn to look at her, seeing the expectancy on her face.

“Yes, Ava?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Sir, what would you like us to do with him?” Her voice is quiet and childlike. However, this woman is no child.

I walk through the door and glance back at the pitiful man in the chair; he looks at me, fear bubbling just below the surface. Blood has made its way down his jaw now and across his plump, acne-scarred chin. His belly protrudes from his shirt, which is too tight for him. I shake my head in disgust; how can anyone let themselves get like this? I continue to walk away down the corridor.

“Whatever is your will, my love,” I say softly without turning. I am doing the man a justice, putting him out of his misery.

“Yes, Sir.” I hear the smile in her voice without looking.

Moments later I hear the door slam shut, and the man’s faint screams echo down the hall after me.