Devlin UnLeashed(60)

He was my artistic soul mate, and we flowed so well. His musicand my dances were in perfect alliance. We should’ve been an ideal pairing. He should make my body sing and my heart thump the way his music did, but nothing was ever that easy.

My heart only responded to distressful, complicated love. My body lit on fire for a man who’d stolen the key to it and never intended to return it. So I danced because I couldn’t give my pianist or anyone else what he craved—a piece of me. And I danced because I needed to remind myself of the devastation Devlin caused me.

So as I moved across the stage, I closed my eyes and leapt from mountaintops, did pirouettes on the stars, and my flowing jeté cut through dense clouds of uncharted lands. I created my own world where I rejoiced in the harrowing music. The pain Devlin caused had, in some way, intensified the beauty in our love. Similarly, the anguished notes from the piano amplified the elegance of the dance—expressed it with breathtakingly sad allure.

I concluded my performance in the fourth position. As soon as the curtains were pulled shut, Joshua ran up behind me, picked me up, and swung me around.

“You were amazing!” He put me on my feet then pressed a hard kiss on my lips.

“So were you.” I smiled at him. His enthusiasm was addictive.

I was glad our second show for the night was canceled. It would give me a chance to leave early and relax. I was in a better mood than I had been the night before, and despite my lack of sleep I felt refreshed after dancing until my body ached. Maybe when I got home, I’d be able to actually sleep.

I was out on the sidewalk when my life shifted off its axis again. It was the same route I took every day for over a year. There were a few people out walking, and I never noticed people, but the unmistakable gait of Devlin Ward was not to be ignored. He looked good, better than the image that replayed in my head constantly. His tie was black, shirt navy blue, matched with a pair of black slacks. Devlin had a penchant for fine clothes, but he always veered toward dark colors. The sort of colors that matched his persona and kept most people at bay.

I’d spotted him before he even noticed me. I should’ve turned and run, or ducked into a nearby shop, but I was frozen. His head was down as he scanned his cell phone, and as though he felt my presence, he looked straight up at me. His slow stroll stalled; less than ten feet separated us. My heart thudded so heavily, I could hear it over the busy afternoon traffic. Every second of our life together came back to me in a violent rush that almost knocked me to my knees. I forced my mind to remember he was the man who’d destroyed me way before I’d loved him. He’d manipulated his way into my life, maybe even orchestrated the whole thing for years.

He took a step forward. In reflex, I stepped back. He tilted his head, taken aback by my apparent fear of him. My blatant rejection of him.

I wasn’t scared of him. I was frightened of us, of what would happen if we talked or touched. With my mind made up, I hung my head and attempted to walk past him as if the moment never happened. It’s what I should’ve done to begin with, but his presence in Boston surprised me. I made it past him, and just as I thought he’d let me escape, his hand shot up, wrapping around my arm.

I glanced at his hand—his hold as firm and strong as I remembered. Long, rough fingers that had caressed my skin and brought me to heights I never imagined now kept me from escape. I met his gaze. He looked sad, worn down, but no less beautiful. His dark hair was a little longer than I remembered, but his eyes still as mesmerizing.

I tried to yank my arm free, but his hold was steadfast. I pleaded with him to release me—not with words, but with the unspoken connection that was ever-present between us. He glanced down at where his hand was connected to my skin and, after several heart-pounding moments, his grip loosened. The raw emotion that crossed his face told me it took everything he had to release me. I took two steps back, eyes still locked with his. I was almost regretful that I had to turn around and flee.

~*~*~

I couldn’t escape the eerie feeling in my gut.

I’d always been overly aware of Devlin like some kind of sixth sense I couldn’t explain. I didn’t know where he was, but I was beyond sure he was nearby. Watching me. Waiting. But for what? I quietly scoured the room because that feeling was clawing at my insides—warning me of a predator in the midst.

Running was no longer an option. I’d built a substantial life here, and I wasn’t willing to walk away from my dream to escape my nightmare. The playing ground was set. This is where everything that mattered to me and everything I feared collided.

Devlin Ward was a tornado. Every time he whipped through my life, he’d left me devastated. I still couldn’t fathom how he’d managed to infiltrate my life again—trying to steal everything I’d worked so hard to get back.