Fighting Darius

The harder I try, the harder it seems for me to make sense of the printed words. They seem to jumble together. Dancing around, mocking me. Well, okay maybe I’m exaggerating a bit, but I find myself staring out the window more often than looking down at my reading material.

That’s it! Screw studying. I closed my book and push it off the table. It lands on the floor with a thump, while I let my head falls on the table with a thunk. The smooth surface of the study table feels cool under my cheek.

How can I concentrate on reading when my brain is stuck on something else…or rather someone else? Darius. I close my eyes and touch my lips. I can still feel his lips on mine. The taste of him on my tongue. The touch of his hands on my skin.

The look on his handsome face…Gah!!! What are you doing, Penny? I can’t stop thinking about him…like always.

He brings out all these extreme emotions in me. Last night I nearly fainted when he admitted that he loved me. Every time I recall the moment he declared his love for me, I feel the wave of giddiness and euphoria sweeping over me. That, however, is followed very closely by the urge to kick him in the nuts when I remember him telling me he’s leaving. What the hell was that???

Time to face reality. There’s no denying that my connection to him surpasses my bond with Matthew. My own mate. Is it because I’ve known him longer? Has my connection to him weakened my connection to Matthew? Is it because Matthew is human? Would I feel this way for Matthew had I met him first?

Would my bond to Matthew ever be as strong if I gave it the same chance?

Finally, giving up all attempt to study, I walk downstairs and head to the kitchen. Genesis and Serena aren’t down here anymore while the men are still in the office. Darn it! I’m getting restless, impatient, and bored. That is never good.

Anya is back. I pour myself a tall glass of lemonade, while she cut me a slice of still warm apple pie.

I sit on a barstool by the kitchen island, sipping my lemonade while staring at the closed office door resentfully. Just how long are they going to be in there? I’m dying to know what they’re talking about.

The room is soundproof, but if I put my ear to the door, maybe I can hear something? If they caught me, I’ll just pretend that I was…uh, fixing the door? Yeah, more like trying to break the door down.

My phone beeps and I find a text from Matthew asking me if I want to meet up at the cafe again.

I should go see him. I’ll drive myself crazy waiting for the men to come out of the office. The idea of breaking down the door seems to get more appealing by the minute. I would totally do something crazy like that if I have to wait another hour.

Besides, I need to face Matthew.

I quickly grab the key to one of Caspian’s cars before I change my mind and break the office door down for real.

Today, Matthew is already waiting for me when I get to the cafe. He leans in to give me a kiss, but I turn my face and his lips land on my cheek. It would feel so wrong for me to kiss him when I had been kissing Darius just this morning.

If he noticed that I avoided his kiss, he doesn’t show it. It’s typical of Matthew. He avoids conflicts while I strive to make

everything so difficult. Why do I make everything so difficult for myself?

I ordered a big cup of creamy cappuccino while Matthew has gotten himself a small cup of espresso.

“I’m glad I got to meet your friends last night. I had a good time,” he remarks. His eyes are taking in my appearance. He’s looking casual in a pair of blue wash jeans. The navy blue polo shirt brings out the color of his eyes.

“You did? Really?” I ask him, surprised.

“Well, it wasn’t awful,” he amends.

I let out a laugh. Awww…he’s trying not to hurt my feelings.

That’s very sweet of him, but I don’t need people sugar coating anything. I know how awkward last night was.Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org exclusive © material.

“It wasn’t a total disaster,” I announce. “But it was awkward as hell.”

“Okay, it was kinda awkward,” he chuckles. “Our friends blend together as well as oil and water. I guess we’re from two different worlds.” He has no idea.

We talk about his work and my study until I finally say, “I don’t mean to pry.” I totally mean to pry. “You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to, but what happened to you and Cece?”

I think he’s taken aback by my directness for a second. He’s quiet for a while as if contemplating how much he should be telling me, before he says, “In the beginning, everything was

right….until it wasn’t.” He scratches the side of his face before he continues, “Cece kept saying that our lives were too predictable. We’re too comfortable. Too comfortable? Is there such a thing as too comfortable?

I thought we’re doing fine. I mean, We have the same circle of friends, we have the same routine every day and every

weekend. Why try to fix something that wasn’t broken, right?

Apparently, it was broken, because we kept getting into stupid fights. Some fights got so out of hand that we broke up…only to get back together again a few weeks, or a couple of months later because we missed each other.

Once we got into a big fight because Cece wanted to go on a vacation that we couldn’t afford. I mean, we have to be careful with how we’re spending our money. We’re saving the money to buy a place together.

It’s a vicious cycle. We fought, then one of us would give in and apologize. Then we’re fine again…until we had another fight.

Then this year, everything was great. So great that I bought a ring. I was planning to ask her to marry me.

Then two weeks ago, out of the blue she told me that we should see other people. She said that she wanted to see what else is out there. That hurt. I left that night and slept on Jackson’s couch.

The next day I went to get my things, she was waiting for me.

She apologized and said that she didn’t mean it and didn’t want me to leave. I don’t know what to think, but it hurts so damn

much that she even thought of seeing other people. I mean, she must’ve thought about it if she brought it up, right?”

I shrug my shoulders. How would I know? Now I regret asking about him and Cece. I’m starting feel like a counselor to my mate’s problem with another woman.

“Anyway, it’s all good. She wanted us to see other people? Well, I’m seeing you now,” he says as he takes my hand that’s lying across the table into his.

I wonder if that’s all I am to him. Someone he’s seeing just to get back at his longtime girlfriend, Cece.

I feel the tingles and the pull of our mate bond. I wonder if he feels it too. I was told that humans don’t feel the mate pull as strongly as werewolves do. Humans could have more than just one mate, but they fall in love and marry people who aren’t their mates all the time.

“So, what’s your plan for the rest of the weekend?” I ask him, trying to change the subject.

He opens his mouth to answer me, but he gets distracted. His eyes shift and fixed on something behind me and his body stiffened.

I follow his gaze and my eyes fall on Mason who just entered the cafe with a brunet. Mason looks around and doesn’t seem at all surprised to see us, though the woman visibly blanched and her steps faltered.

“Hi, Matthew, Penny! Fancy meeting you here,” says Mason approaching our table with a big smile. The woman seems to be about Matthew’s age. Her eyes look big as she steps up next to Mason. Her light brown eyes suddenly focus on our Matthew’s hand holding mine on the table and Matthew pulls his hand away as if it’s burned.

I look at Matthew, but he’s staring at the woman. She’s looking at him with eyes full of hurt and anger and I suddenly know who she is. Of course, stupid Penny.

“It’s my family crest. When one of our homes in Petrograd burnt to the ground during the revolution in 1917 not much was left. That was among the things that were salvageable. It was originally a cufflink. I only found one, so I had it made into a medallion. I had been wearing it around my neck since.

It reminds me that I have a family, even though I never see them. Makes me feel as if I wasn’t alone in this world.

I want you to have it,” he says. “You don’t have to wear it.

Just…I just want you to have it. You can sell it. You can give it away…I… It’s okay. Just don’t tell me about it,” he laughs. Self-mocking laugh. There’s a flash of vulnerability in his eyes before he aims them away, staring into the horizon. When he

looks at me again, his eyes are clear blue and bright…and hopeful.

Oh, Darius. Why does he always bring out such strong

conflicting emotions in me? Right now I feel like crying.

*Petrograd (capital of Russia at the time of the revolution) is now known as Saint Petersburg.