UP IN FLAMES

“Vanessa,” he breathed, voice ragged. “Vanessa, please…. Please don’t…” He stopped talking and she dropped her head to his warm shoulder, squeezing her eyes against the rush of hot tears. Her arms trembled, but it seemed to have very little to do with what they’d just done, and more with the fact that after today, it would be the last time. It had to be before it was too late.

But an evil little voice whispered that it was already too late.

——-

Vanessa was running.

Alaric was a lot of things, but he wasn’t fucking stupid. And he’d meant what he’d said. Kind of. He’d let her have the facade of running, because she wasn’t going to get far. He knew that the woman felt the same way he did. She may not be able to say the words, but it was everything else she did. Right now, she was like a cornered animal. There were only two options for her: fight it out or run.

She was going to run.

He’d kept her busy the rest of the day Sunday, not giving her much time to put whatever cockamamie plan in place, but he woke when she crept out of his bed at dawn, too early for her just to be getting ready for work. Too bad he didn’t have another excuse to keep her home.

Home.

Somewhere over the past weeks, while this drama had been going on, his house had become their home. A smile pulled at his lips in spite of the fact that he knew she was packing up her clothing and personal items in the room next door. Was she going to tell him? Try to sneak the bags past him? Curiosity filled him, making it hard for him to remain in bed and see this through.

If he tried to stop her, it would only make her resist harder. He wanted to blame Paul but he knew that even if Paul hadn’t shown up and made an ass out of himself, this was inevitable. Something would’ve triggered her if it hadn’t been her deepening feelings. He wasn’t a psychologist, but it didn’t take one to see that her commitment issues were obviously attached to her mom and he wasn’t sure exactly how he would overcome something like that.

But he would. Alaric didn’t ever give up.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Her soft footfalls hurried down the hall and he stilled, his eyes drifting toward the closed bedroom door. He needed to be tied down, because lying there was probably the hardest thing he’d ever done.

Just when he thought she was going to leave, he heard her outside his door again. Closing his eyes, he forced his breathing to move slowly. The door cracked open and he felt Vanessa creeping in, moving quietly to the side of the bed he was “sleeping” on. The lovely scent of vanilla and lilac teased his senses and his cock immediately swelled, more than ready to get a little physical. Her soft lips brushed his cheek and she whispered, “Good-bye.”

And then she was gone.

Alaric forced himself to stay in the bed until he heard his front door close and the silent beep of the alarm resetting. Throwing off the sheet, he looked over at the nightstand. Beside his cell was a folded piece of paper. His eyes narrowed as he picked it up, already knowing what it was before he scanned the handwritten note.

It even started off with Dear Alaric. He snorted.

Things have been fun. Blah. Blah. Time for this to end. Blah. Blah. She wanted him to move on and let her go. Blah. Blah. She was thankful for his help and protection. Blah. Blah. Email her the cost of his services? What the fuck? Did she really think he was going to charge her for any of this? She even left her email address.

Her fucking email address.

That was the only thing that pissed him off.

“Fuck it,” Alaric said, crumpling up the Dear John letter. If she really thought he wasn’t going to go after her, then she was wrong. So fucking wrong.

——-

Vanessa felt like a different person sitting behind her desk at work. Unable to think straight after she went home, she’d gone to her office instead. Her apartment suddenly felt uncomfortable and she had an idea why, but she refused to think about it.

She had no idea how much Alaric would charge for his services so far, and God knew he would after her bitchtastic exit this morning. He had to take something for all the stress and even money he’d spent while protecting her.

She missed him already, but it was time that she moved on. In reality, she wasn’t the same woman she was months ago. More so than the physical changes-hair down, wearing a white blouse and linen pants and no suit. Admittedly, she was a hell of a lot more comfortable dressed as she was, but there was an ache in her breast that had started the moment she walked out of Alaric’s house and had only grown over the last couple of hours.

Had she done the right thing by leaving Alaric this morning? It had to be. What he said in the shower the day before had to be the lust talking and nothing more. Besides, leaving him now was like ripping a Band-Aid off a wound-rather it be quick and a bit painful than drawn-out and destructive.

No matter what, she wouldn’t end up like her mom.

But no matter how hard she tried, she felt like she was faking it all. It was the best way she could describe how she felt. As if she were doing nothing but lying to herself and others, telling them and herself that she was okay. That everything was fine. But it wasn’t. Not really. Her skin was stretched too tight, as if she were wearing jeans that no longer fit after gorging on a meal.

Sipping her lukewarm coffee, she pushed thoughts of Alaric and her own question out of her mind and concentrated on work. For a while, it worked like it always had. She turned off her phone, because she really didn’t think she could deal with it if Alaric contacted her, and threw herself into the phone calls and work she’d left unattended.

It worked till afternoon, and she was starting to feel better. As she started to stand, she glanced over at the window. With the sun pushing through the thin slats in the blinds, she watched the tiny specks of dust floating in the streams of light. That was how she felt, simply floating.