Page 17 of Cryptic Dreams
Quite literally; though she can hardly be consideredmineor evenprey.
I’ve been stalking Orion’s cousin since she left Plasma last weekend, and while I’ve been able to prevent all of the horrible things I’ve conjured in my mind from happening to her, I’m driving myself completely mad by doing it.
I can’t help it though, not really.
Seeing that goddess sitting in the club seemed to trigger a long dormant desire, one I’ve never entertained before, as well as stirred an entirely foreignhero complexthat is driven by that insane desire as well. All it took was one glance in her direction and I’ve become utterly obsessed and so in tune with her very being that I can pinpoint her exact whereabouts without even trying.
It’s how I found her place of employment.
It’s how I stopped those two human males from doing vile things to her.
It’s how I found her very rundown and less than acceptable home, one I discovered she shares with a human male by the smell of it.
It’s also how I know that’s where she’s been since Tuesday night, the extraordinary creature apparently holed up in her house since she made a brief appearance at Plasma to only placate her cousin before she left in a rush.
And it’s also thehowandwhyI’m currently perched on the roof of the house across the street staring at the tiny window of the attic. Sitting here, hoping in vain to catch but a mere glimpse of the goddess that now plagues my waking thoughts and even tortures me in my sleep if I succumb to it.
I have not set eyes on her since Tuesday and if I could not feel her heart beating steadily along with my own, I’d be completely consumed by fear and worry. A fear and worry so great they would surely send me spiraling into a madness so profound I’d be forced to take very drastic measures.
Like, oh, I don’t know, kicking down that rickety door, marching up the stairs and dragging her from the attic with demands to know what’s wrong before whisking her away to my private home in order to keep her there for always.
But Zephyr is notmine.
I choose to believe that anyway.
A Descendant does not typically find their mate so late in life and even if they did, chances are they would not feel the bond, thepulltoward them so strongly because that is just the way it is. Once a Descendant is past the point of having any interest in breeding, of harboring a need to rut and reproduce, the pull to one's mate is but a low buzzing and easily ignored.
Since I am fourteen hundred and seventy-eight years old, my need to breed fizzled out almost twelve hundred years ago. Now it’s nothing more than an urge to have my knob played with so I don’t have to do it myself.
Yet here I am, sitting on the roof of what could easily be considered a fancy crack house, staring holes into a heavy blackout curtain that sits in front of a teeny little window, with the erection to rival all erections straining against my slacks while I envision many young with dark and light hair and golden eyes traipsing through my home, raising hell and happily complicating my entire life.
Daft.
Completely fucking daft.
This should not be happening at all because I am a Descendant, and because Orion’s cousin isnotmy mate.
But she is currently exiting the inadequate house dressed similarly to the first time I saw her.
Ratty tank top under an oversized sweater.
Holey sweatpants with bleach stains.
No flip flops this time, thank god. Seeing her adorable little toes and ridiculously sexy feet were going to drive me to a foot fetish, and I already have enough delicious fetishes, thank you very much.
The female has a backpack slung over one shoulder, a bag that looks heavy and packed to the brim, and that can only mean she’s off to Plasma to study at a fucking nightclub again. Something I will never fully understand, not until I ask for an explanation anyway, and since I have no intention of doing so, a mystery it shall remain.
At least she will be with Orion tonight.
I’ve not enjoyed sitting outside her house wondering what is going on inside those walls, driving myself mad with images of what she does with that male. What that male does toher.Images of what she does when she’s alone or all the other outlandish reasons she may be isolating so fiercely. It does me no good to let my mind wander to such things, and while I absolutely hate it, I can’t stop it.
Just like I can’t stop the way I’m roof-hopping to keep up with her long strides as she clearly heads toward the club. Unfortunately for me, we have the same destination tonight, so following her is really a necessity. Something I shall continue telling myself right along with the denial that Zephyr is my mate.
I do not have a mate.
I do not need a mate.
I do not want a mate.
