Devlin UnLeashed(61)

Devlin had been in sheer panic when I left him. I knew because of the endless phone calls in the weeks after I’d run. He’d caught up to me with a tracker he’d placed in my phone, but I’d escaped the cafe out the back door before he’d seen me. I’d left no trail behind. The only possible way he could’ve found me was through that phone. It was the only connection that had remained between us.

I’d convinced myself I’d needed that phone, but really, I didn’t want to give up my last link to Devlin. I’d thrown the phone in a trash can as I jogged up the block, leaving every piece I had of Devlin behind me. Except the part that lived in my heart.

The nights became the hardest. The symptoms of a broken heart only seemed to manifest when I closed my eyes. At those times, I could still feel Devlin in my bed. Touching me, holding me… fucking me. I was subconsciously holding on to him. Reliving our time together in my dreams. Promising him I’d never leave him.

I still felt the contours of his body against my hands, the taste of salt on his skin upon my tongue, and the intangible pressure of his gaze caressing my body.

He’d infected me with his poison—incurable by space and time. Devlin was the virus and the antidote, and without him, I existed with a dull ache in my heart.

When the memories overwhelmed me, I tried to hold on to the pain, but even that didn’t help. I knew we both fed off that pain and turned it into an explosion of love and lust. We had from the beginning. It all started in a sick, twisted way that left me broken years ago. I hated that it felt so right when it was so wrong. I needed to find a way to make it without him, even though I held on to the memories.

I knew Devlin was near because fear, hate, and the kind of animal lust that overcame me whenever he walked into a room were present and accounted for.

“Do you want another drink?” I glanced at the bartender and shook my head. I didn’t need to be drunk when I dealt with Devlin. Any way I looked at it, I knew I wasn’t going home tonight without somehow dealing with him.

I paid my tab, picked up my handbag, and headed for the door. Once I hit the street, I knew what Devlin had in store did not require an audience. I walked toward my apartment, looking into every corner and alleyway. I jumped at every horn honked as it interrupted my inner musing.

When I stepped through the glass door that led into the lobby of my building, I heaved a breath of relief, letting all the tension of the last hour drain.

Devlin was causing me to overreact and my intuition was off whack. I felt safe for another day as I stepped into my apartment and shut the door. I didn’t even have a chance to scream as a rough hand covered my mouth and a strong arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me swiftly down my hallway.

“Don’t say a fucking word.” His voice sent tremors of fear up my spine, but it was accompanied by unwelcome heat. The low, gruff rasp was oddly unfamiliar yet intertwined with hints of the man I once loved and the man I’d first met.

This wasn’t unexpected, but after letting down my guard, it was jolting. I’d put myself in a vulnerable position. As the wet cloth covered my mouth, I embraced the slumber that took hold of me. I feared many things in Devlin, but I knew without a doubt that my life wasn’t one of them.





Chapter Thirty-Four

Devlin

I had too much to drink.

I’d spent the night thinking about us. The way things used to be when we sat out in the garden and searched for peace together. She always found it in that oak tree.

She loved that fucking tree. Thought it was beautiful when everyone else thought it was eerie and scary. It was one of the reasons I knew we saw the world differently. Despite what she’d been through, what I’d put her through, she was still able to see the happiness and good in things. When I looked at the tree, I saw it for what it was. A creature that grew from deep-seated roots of two very different seeds. It began as a whole, but somewhere along the line its trunk split in two, and its branches grew so heavy they dragged across the ground. The leaves gave it beauty. It was what people raved about. The uncanny beauty from the wicked looking oak tree. They didn’t see the struggle it went through trying to keep its two sides as one. They didn’t see it grapple with the wind and fight through storms to keep all its branches intact, always waiting for the lightning to strike and split the trunk down the middle and end the battle.

Juliana always saw the tree’s beauty, reveled in it, and used it to center herself, bring herself peace. But I always saw the tree as myself. A man divided, a monstrous beast that fought a battle every day while everyone distracted themselves with the rugged beauty on the surface. Her obsession—admiration—of that tree had somehow given me hope. The way her eyes lit up the first time she’d seen it stirred something in me. I’d wondered if she saw me the same way she saw the tree. It comforted her, and I wanted to be able to be that safe spot in her life.