Page 11 of Tempt

I feel a sudden, burning want for answers. I want to know why he left me all alone in that hotel room. I want to know why I feel this way—why I can’t seem to allow myself to move on from that single, pointless rejection.

I already know I’m worth more than that, so why did this one creature shake me so badly? Why do I feel like his refusal to see me will shred my heart into a thousand tattered pieces?

As I start to make my way across the wide casino floor, he doesn’t look at me again, but I know he’s aware of my movements. I can feel the tension in the air, thick and bitter, and for one single second, I doubt myself. But no. I’m not going to give this up.

I need answers.

I refuse to let him convince me that I’m worthless.

You are not worthless.

Those words ring clear and crisp in my head, and I stumble, trying to make sense of the way those words formed in my mind and how Dante once tried to describe hearing. There was sound, and there was meaning, and it was almost instinctive how I just knew what it all meant. I don’t understand how this is happening to me. God, am I so drunk that I’m hallucinating?

Or maybe something else is terribly wrong with me. Is this what happens when people become schizophrenic? Or maybe it’s a brain tumor. Fuck, I need to get out of here, but somehow I’m still walking toward the monsters.

As I approach Eissa, two of the Vyastil males with him step toward me, chests puffed out like they’ll kill to protect him. Eissa’s shoulders tense when they move, but he doesn’t look over at me.

I come to a stop and meet their eyes, holding my ground. Eissa still hasn’t turned, but that thickness in the air is almost suffocating. I need him to turn around. To acknowledge me. But he remains in conversation, though I know he’s aware of my presence now. I can see it in the nervous way his tail shifts and his skin flutters.

Fuck me, I should turn around and leave. I have pride, and I can still save it if I go now before Eissa finally has no choice but to face me. And yet, something inside me keeps me right where I am.

Screw this. I’m done playing this game with him.

I want him to look at me and tell me that night meant nothing. That he lied when he said I was beautiful. Or the desperate way he kissed me was nothing more than a ploy to drink my cum.

I feel something in my head again, almost like a tender caress trying to soothe me, to tell me that all the ugly thoughts in my mind aren’t real. But before I can probe further, it’s gone.

Eissa turns, his gaze moving over me, heavy enough I can nearly feel it. I see the way his eyes shift restlessly from my feet all the way to the roots of my hair. He’s staring at me like I was staring at him, like this moment means something.

I take a step toward him, but the two guards stop me from getting too close.

I wave my hand to get his attention, but he ignores me, instead turning his head to speak to the Vyastil beside him. It’s cruel in an underhanded way. He’s deliberately excluding me from his conversation even though he knows my language perfectly well.

I find myself wondering why the fuck I feel the need for closure. He’s a total stranger, after all. He means nothing to me. I’ve had longer club hookups than this. So why the fuck does it feel like it matters?

The guards nod just as I meet Eissa’s gaze again, and they shift to the side so he can take a step closer. I can feel the warmth radiating off of him. I can smell the sweetness that seems to be exclusive to the Vyastil, though Eissa’s scent is so much better than any other monster I’ve met. His tightly done braid falls over his shoulder as he leans in, and I swear in that moment, he sucks in a breath.

But I’m not going to let him have this. I can’t. Not after he’s been such an epic asshole.

I glower at him and then slowly lift my middle finger, a scowl lining my lips.

The human he was speaking to earlier steps up to Eissa and claps him on the shoulder, almost like he’s holding him back. And the gesture is tender. For the first time since arriving, I really notice this stranger. He’s handsome in an effortless way. His hair is perfectly coiffed, stubble lining his jaw that looks intentional.

From just the way he stands, I can see he’s the same status as Eissa, and I suddenly feel like a complete and total nobody.

But I’m not going to let him have that, either. I meet Eissa’s stare and then lift my hand and let the letters curl through my fingers. ‘F U C K. Y O U.’

Eissa blinks slowly at me and his lips thin. He’s irritated. The man beside him asks a question I can read perfectly well on his lips: “What did he just say?”

An ugly, hot feeling rises in my chest, and I turn to him, tilt my head to the side, and offer a nasty smile. ‘Are you fucking him too?’

The chances of this man knowing ASL are slim to none, which makes me feel better about the petty question…and then I see that Eissa is interpreting and I feel my face heat.

The man grins wider and runs his fingers along his jaw, then he takes a step toward me and holds out his hand. My gaze lands on his lips, and I feel something slide through me as our palms connect. Something almost like jealousy, but I don’t know where that’s coming from.

“I’m Dorian. What’s your name?” Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Eissa interpreting, and I can also see he’s doing it very, very grudgingly. That gives me a sense of satisfaction I didn’t expect to feel.

I pull back and twist my wrists before answering him. ‘My name is Luca.’