Matter of Time by V. M. Black

Author:V. M. Black
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Swift River Media Group
Published: 2014-12-16T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

I felt both more relief and more despair than I’d ever felt before when Jenkins stopped the Bentley in front of my apartment building the next morning. My entire body itched with the separation for Dorian with an intensity that I hadn’t felt in weeks, and my head was swimming with pieces of him—a look in his eye, a hint of his scent, the feel of his biceps under my hand, the weight of his arm over my shoulders.

The impressions teased at the edges of my sense, almost as powerful as hallucinations, as I stepped out into the snow that fluttered down and covered the sidewalk in a fine powder. I turned my face up to the sky, and tiny flakes fell on my burning cheeks and caught in my eyelashes.

Why did I love him? Why did I have to love his darkness? I was still terrified of what he’d wanted of me. I’d begged him to hurt me in the past, but to let go so completely when I knew only too well what was inside him….

Besieger, he’d been called. And now I was the besieged.

I told myself that I would resist him, but even as I mounted the steps to the apartment building, dodging students coming out, the ache between my legs called me a liar.

This was going to be a brutally long two days. And I was afraid of what would happen at the end of it. What he would do. What I would do.

Leaving my last bodyguard in the hall, I unlocked the door to my apartment and hung up my purse and coat from Dorian’s house, stashing my sunglasses in the pocket.

As usual on a Thursday morning, all my roommates were in. Chelsea and Christina were elbow-to-elbow in their bathroom while Lisette was busy cooking eggs in the kitchen.

“Cooking breakfast on a weekday?” I asked as I walked past the kitchen and into the living room. “Who are you, and what have you done with Lisette?”

Lisette giggled. “I was thinking how long it’d been since I’d had anything but a breakfast bar on the way out the door. And Clarissa eats just as badly or worse. So how great would it be if we both had a proper meal for once?”

I glared at Clarissa, whose blue eyes widened in innocence that I didn’t believe for an instant. I looked back at Lisette. She was humming happily to herself as she stirred the eggs with a turner. Lisette, who wasn’t fretting or fussing at me for walking out on her in the middle of my own bridal party dress event.

I nodded meaningfully to Clarissa, taking one of the two standard-issue dorm chairs and dragging it to the window, as far from the kitchen as was possible while still remaining in the living area. Clarissa followed.

“What are you doing to her?” I asked, my voice the barest whisper.

“She’s telling the truth. It wasn’t my idea,” Clarissa said, almost as softly.

“She isn’t yelling at me for staying out all night,” I said.

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