His Darkness, My Desire

Evelyn

Look across the road, apartment above the bakery.

I look exactly where he said, looking at the old rustic bakery I've gone into many times over the last year, and look to the brick building atop of it, a large window catching my attention, more so the figure standing in it.

I can only see his silhouette, but I'd recognize it anywhere, and my stomach tightens when I watch him lift his hand and twinkle his fingers in a small wave.

I mirror the action back, shifting slightly on the bench, and my phone rings again.

I bite down on my lip, and my brows drop. I can't be in the same room as this man, not again. My pulse speeds up as I think of what to say.

I feel like I'd be doing something wrong by seeing him again - given our history, even if the encounter was innocent, I'd still feel uneasy, and I can't exactly put my finger on why.

Maybe because nothing about Lucas is ever innocent.

I can't, sorry, my boyfriend is getting tattooed. I need to go back inside

It wasn't a request, love. I'll see you in a few minutes.

I look back to the window, seeing the figure is no longer there, and I chew on the inside of my cheek while I try to gather my thoughts.

Part of me wishes I were a stronger person, more assertive, the type that could reply and put him in his place - or simply not turn up.

But as ridiculous as it sounds, I'd feel guilty for just not showing when he's obviously expecting me now, it's bad manners.

Even though manners are something he's clearly unfamiliar with.

Should I really go see him?

After all, I'm not the same girl I was three years ago, I've matured and managed to work on my shyness - maybe this time I won't actually feel like the timid little mouse he so graciously nicknamed me after.

My apprehension is tangled with my overwhelming curiosity as to why this man even wants to see me again; he could have seen me and simply chose to ignore it, and why he even kept my number.

He doesn't seem like the type to be sentimental over the women he encounters, contact information.

His demanding nature doesn't bother me like it should, just like it didn't all those years ago, and while back then I found it extremely intimidating and secretly thrilling, I'm more fascinated by it.

It's the type of confidence I could never possess, and I wonder what it must be like to exist in such a dominant and self-assured existence.

I seem to have been lost in my thoughts, because without realising, I've stood, discarding my lollipop, and my legs are carrying me to the road. I managed to grab my bearings enough to look for cars before crossing the street.

My subconscious is seemingly making up its mind on its own.

By the time I reach the bakery, I'm gripping the shopping bag of treats I should be taking to my boyfriend at this very second, and yet instead I'm walking into what feels like the lion's den.

There's a steel black staircase at the side of the old brick building, leading to a small standing area and what I assume is the front door.

It seems like I have no control over my body, my feet making their way up the steps before I have a chance to protest or really consider what I'm doing.

It's not until I reach the large metal door, which looks like it belongs in a prison, not an apartment, is in front of me - that my nerves realise what I'm actually doing and my heart rate increases.

I hold my breath as I lift my hand to knock, cursing myself when I notice my shaking - I'm not doing this again, I'm not going to be that same trembling girl that could barely say two words.

I knock twice, bringing my hand back down to clutch at the shopping bag in front of my hips, holding it with both hands so tightly I'm surprised the circulation hasn't been cut off to my fingers.

Footsteps echo behind the door as they get closer to it, and my heart seems to thump harder with each step I hear approaching.

The sound of locks clicking rings through my ears, and I suck in a breath as the door swings open slowly.

I'm glad there's a railing at the top of this staircase, because as soon as the door opens and those same moss green irises entrap my eyes, I feel like I've been punched in the stomach that hard I could have flown off the landing.

His full pink lips pull into a sly lopsided smile, his eyes glinting as they give me the once over before coming back to my face, "Long time no see, little mouse, miss me?"

I swallow anxiously as I try to grip my senses, wetting my lips before I speak, "Hi, Lucas."

I'm sure my eyes must be the size of dinner plates. This man seems to have only gotten more seductive and beautiful with age, and I'm extremely caught off guard when I see that his once long curls are replaced by a shorter haircut.

"Hi," he replies with a teasing smile, and my mind flashes back to the night I met him when we shared those exact words.

* "I'm Lucas."

"Hi, Lucas," I peep out, my voice short and high.

"Hi," he says back coyly, a grin breaking over his face.' *

I blink as the deja vu subsides, my eyes flicking down - and oh how I wish they hadn't.

His bare-toned torso, only covered by an unbuttoned mauve dress shirt hanging over his shoulders, has my pulse picking up, and when my eyes notice his black jeans are unbuttoned and open, only hanging on his hips with the white band of his briefs peaking out above his pants, I think I may actually faint.

This was a terrible idea. Lucas has and always will be nothing but trouble.

He notices my staring, only adding to the smug look on his face, and he opens the door wider, stepping aside, "Come in."

I take a small step back, shaking my head, "Oh no, I can't come in, I can't stay long."

Lucas simply raises his brow and extends his hand out to me, silently telling me that it wasn't something that was a question from him, but a statement.

I have the willpower of a drug addict with this man.

I hold my hand out apprehensively, sucking in a breath when his long fingers wrap around my own. "I can only stay for a few minutes," I say as firmly as possible.

"Sure," he muses, leading me inside the threshold of the front door.

I walk in, and I'm immediately hit with that same scent, the faint smell of disinfectant overpowered by his cologne.

The door closes behind me, and I gasp, nearly jumping a foot off the ground, clutching my hand to my chest - okay, so maybe I'm a tiny bit more on edge than I'd like to admit to myself.

Lucas lets out a soft laugh, brushing past me, the back of his hand grazing across the side of my hip as he does, and the faint but purposeful contact has my stomach flipping.

"Still a skittish little thing aren't you love?" he says casually without turning around, lifting his hand and motioning with his fingers to indicate for me to follow as he walks.

"No, I'm not - it's just been a stressful day," I defend quietly, which earns an amused 'Whatever you say, sweetheart' from Lucas.

I start to follow timidly, taking in his apartment and noticing how much it reminded me of his bedroom at his old place - if this is his place? Could it be a friend's house? It's not the same one I was taken to all that time ago.

It's very neat, organized, and open planned - almost like a display home, but there's no colour. All of the furniture is black and sleek, and the walls are exposed brick, only contrasted by the dark marble floor.

This seems so odd to be above an old bakery.

Once we get to the living area, I pause in my steps, seeing a woman sitting on the couch.

I might have assumed maybe she lived here, or was a friend, but from how disheveled her hair looks, her mascara smeared under her eyes, and the way she's wiping around her mouth, chin, and neck with a tissue makes it clear what she was doing here.

I look to Lucas, who's turned to watch me attentively, and I look from him back to the girl on the couch who has barely acknowledged my presence aside from a quick side glare.

Did I interrupt?

I couldn't have because Lucas was messaging me and - oh...was he messaging me while she was doing that? Was she.... Was she doing that to him while he was standing at the window?

Lucas watches my face, seeing my eyes widen as I look over to the large pane window, then to the girl and back to him.

His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

How is this amusing to him!

I clear my throat, shifting on my feet and gripping the shopping bag in my hand impossibly tighter. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know you had company."

Don't ask me why I'm apologizing, he's the one who demanded I come over, knowing full well what he was doing, but it's my knee-jerk reaction.

Lucas doesn't even acknowledge the woman on his couch, who is now shoving her - are they her panties? Wow - well, she's shoving them in her purse like it's the most casual thing in the world.

"She was just leaving," he says in a monotone voice.

"Excuse me?" the woman scoffs indignantly.

Lucas doesn't even blink in her direction, just keeps observing my reaction, "I don't repeat myself, you heard me."

"Well, she has a fucking name, you asshole," she hisses, standing abruptly from the couch, holding her heels in her other hand.

"I don't know why you're still talking, or still in my apartment," he says boredom, folding his hands behind his back, tilting his head slightly as he continues to observe me like some science project.

I'm frozen awkwardly on the spot, darting my eyes back and forth between the two. I'm horrible with confrontation, and I have no idea how he doesn't feel uncomfortable right now.

I'm taken aback by how dismissive and cold he is towards the woman; she may as well not even be in the room with the lack of acknowledgement he's giving her.

"So what, you bring some new little bitch over and just throw me out?" she snaps, storming over to stand in front of him.

I beg your pardon? What the hell did I do?

I frown at her, chewing on the inside of my lip, trying not to feel offended.

I watch annoyance flare slightly behind Lucas's eyes before it disappears, and he looks down at her with a passive expression. "That mouth of yours is only good for one thing. I'd stick to doing that and keep it shut otherwise, before you say something else to yourself that gets you into trouble."

Her shoulders bristle, and she points a perfectly manicured finger in his face, "Fuck you, Lucas."

Lucas leans down slightly, catching her line of vision, his voice still eerily calm, "I'd remember who you're speaking to, woman."

"My name is Stacey!" she snaps.

"Your name, just like you, isn't important or something I give a shit about. I'd get out if you know what's good for you," he says lowly, keeping his calm expression.

Stacey let out a frustrated squeal from the back of her throat, throwing her hands in the air and spinning around to storm out.

She doesn't look at or acknowledge me as she passes, and dumbly I say, "Bye, Stacey."

My overactive politeness always makes me say the stupidest things.

She scoffs, muttering 'whatever' under her breath as she stomps towards the front door, slamming it harshly behind her as she leaves.

She seems ....pleasant.

Lucas focuses his stare back on me, running his fingers through the front of his chestnut curls, pushing the loose strands that fell around his eyes from his face.

Stacey may not have been the most likable person in the world, but I don't agree with the way he treated her - you can't just treat people like that.

Especially discarding them so carelessly after being intimate with them, she's a person, not an inanimate object.

"You didn't have to speak to her like that, " I frown towards him.

The corner of Lucas's lips quirked at the corners, seeming more entertained rather than offended at my displeased statement.

I would have never said something like that to him when he first met me; I would have been too crippled by nerves.

He lifts a slow brow, his dimple denting into his cheek as a smirk grows on his lips. "Is that so?"

"It wasn't very nice," I state with my brows creasing further, showing my disapproval.

Lucas hums, nodding as he starts taking slow steps towards me, and I immediately back up.

As he gets closer, he tilts his head curiously, a menacing look to his captivating green eyes. "Really now? Well, tell me, what exactly gave you the impression I was nice, darling?"

**

"You'll be seeing me in your dreams

But I'll be there when your reality drowns."