His Darkness, My Desire

Years Later.......

"Fuck that hurts," he hisses through his teeth, and I bite down on my lip not to smile at how ridiculous he's being.

"It's the first line, you need to relax, focus on something else," I reassure softly, brushing his long hair out of his face.

"A kiss might help," he smiles coyly, then immediately grimaces and curses as the tattooist continues with another line.

I smile sympathetically as I lean down and press a quick kiss to his soft lips. "It's only small, it won't take long, Jacobs really fast."

I glance towards Jacob, who's fighting, rolling his eyes as he continues the tattoo.

It's literally only two words; I have no idea how he got through his other tattoos if this is how he acted with them.

"You know, as my girlfriend, you're not meant to find it funny when I'm in pain," he huffs out with his teeth clenched, watching my face as I bring my hand up to cover my mouth and hide my smile.

I clear my throat, wiping my hand away to show a serious expression, "It's not funny, I promise."

"Shit!" he hisses again, his voice cracking at a high pitch, twitching at the pain he's in.

I snort, slapping my hand over my mouth again, earning a glare from him.

"Mate, you need to keep still, otherwise this is going to say 'Dag Free' instead of 'Drug Free,'" Jacob says flatly, pausing the machine and trying his best to cover how fed up he is with tattooing my whining boyfriend.

I look at Jacob with an apologetic smile, mouthing 'I'm sorry,' and he presses his lips together, shaking his head as he starts tattooing again.

Jacob was doing me a favour tattooing Andy, I may have used the fact he was dating my best friend to my advantage to convince him to do it, considering he isn't the biggest fan of him.

Andy is sweet, but his personality tends to rub some people the wrong way, Jacob definitely being one of those people. I know I'm going to owe him a lot for this.

I'm already paying him double.

"How about I go get you a drink, or something sweet to take your mind off it?" I suggest running my hands through his hair to try to soothe him.

I'll admit, he's acting like a giant baby right now. It's only on his wrist, and I know Jacob isn't a heavy-handed tattooist.

Although... I wouldn't put it past him to be drilling the needle in a bit more, just out of annoyance that he's having to do this.

I would have never thought I would be someone who knew anything about tattoos, let alone have them myself. It's amazing what can happen in a few years.

Andy nods, giving me a sad puppy look with those big brown eyes of his. "That'd help. I need something; this is unbearable."

Christ, you'd think he's giving birth, not getting a tattoo the size of a pack of gum.

I keep my thoughts to myself about how dramatic he's being, standing from my seat next to him, "I'll be back soon, it'll be done before you know it."

I look at Jacob, and he looks up at me under his brows, shooting me a look that screams 'Fuck you for leaving me here alone with him'.

"I'll be back soon," I say reassuringly, Andy not realising my words were meant for Jacob.

"Okay, sweet pea, Miss you already," Andy says tightly, letting out a shout when Jacob presses the machine down harder suddenly.

I scowl at Jacob, and he just shrugs his shoulders coyly. "Sorry mate, just making sure the ink goes in."

Bullshit, I know he did that on purpose.

I grab my bag and straighten up my dress, turning to make my way to the front of the tattoo studio, waving politely to the other people who work there or clients as I walk past.

The door dings as I walk out the front, making my way to the small convenience store next door to the studio.

It's a beautiful day today, it's unconventionally warm for July in Melbourne, and I'm glad I took the opportunity to wear one of my summer dresses.

It's funny how when I first moved here, dresses weren't something I even owned - well, except for that black one. Whereas now, my wardrobe is far more adventurous, not that a dress is adventurous, but the style of dresses and clothing I feel confident enough to wear now would have my mother blowing a blood vessel in her forehead.

That's why I have a special section of my wardrobe designated for the rare occasion she visits, considering I haven't set foot back in that town since I left.

I'm proud of the life I've made for myself these last three years. I've grown a lot as a person and tend not to be as awkward and shy as I used to be - but I still have a bit of a problem with it, and I don't think that will ever change.

Part of me still feels like that same girl, though, that same shy small town girl, while I've managed to start a new life and get independence here, I still tend to stay in the bubble of my job, apartment, and boyfriend, as well as my few friends.

Sophie still tries her hardest to get me to try new things or be spontaneous, but after the one time I tried stepping out of my comfort zone, which I've tried very hard to forget about, I swore all of that off - it's just not who I am.

I've accepted it now.

Some people in life are just meant to play it safe and leave the thrill-seeking behaviour to those who can handle it.

I think that's what I love about Andy, he's safe. I met him at work when he came in for a coffee two years ago, and he was just as shy as I was, and I found it really endearing.

He works for his father's company selling medical insurance, and he has his whole life mapped and planned out exactly how he wants it, it's like this dot point list of how things will be for the next thirty years, he'll never deviate from it - sometimes it's a bit much when he's also planned out my future along with his once we got more serious, slotting me into it like an appointment - but I think it just shows he cares enough to see his life with me.

Andy is very strict with his lifestyle and always likes to be in control of his surroundings. He's never drank, smoked, or even been in the same room as drugs or anything illegal, which explains his tattoo choice today - he's very passionate about it.

He thrives on routine, and while sometimes things get a bit repetitive, it's nice that I don't have to worry about the unexpected.

Predictable isn't always boring; sometimes it's necessary.

I walk down the aisles of the convenience store, grabbing a few chocolate bars and some lollipops. I kind of feel like I'm rewarding a small kid for being well-behaved at the dentist.

I walk to the fridge, grab a bottle of water, and head to the front counter.

"Hey Bob," I smile, looking over to the old, short bald man with the thick glasses.

"Evelyn, good to see you again, darling', is this all for today?" his gruff voice asks, raspy from years of chain smoking, as he rings up the items I've placed on the counter.

Bob is like that man who instantly feels like your grandfather; he's very sweet, and I always enjoyed talking to him whenever I came in here back when I spent a lot more time at the tattoo studio.

Sophie worked there for a while doing reception, and that's how she and Jacob met. I would always spend days off hanging out with her while she was at work, and that's how I ended up letting curiosity get the better of me and getting my first tattoo, which then led to several others.

They're very addictive.

I just can't have them anywhere visible unless I feel like getting thrown in an early grave by my mother; she would have my head if she knew I'd even stepped foot in a tattoo studio.

"That's it for today. How's your wife?" I smile politely.

"Still alive, unfortunately," Bob sighs, placing everything in a bag.

"She can't be that bad, you married her," I frown.

"Never drink tequila in Vegas, darling', you wake up with a headache that you can't get rid of for thirty years," he looks at me over the rim of his glasses, lifting his brows as I hand him the money for the few things I'd bought.

"I'll try and remember that," I say, grinning as he hands me the bag.

"Always a pleasure seeing you, be good," he gives me a playful, stern look as I turn to make my way out of the store.

"I can't make any promises," I laugh, looking back at him over my shoulder, waving as I reach for the front door.

I swing the door open, slamming into someone that feels like a brick wall and dropping my bag on the ground with a yelp.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" I gasp, resting my hands on my cheeks in embarrassment.

I still have a terrible habit of not looking where I'm going or being clumsy.

I look to the man that I collided with, as he bends down to pick up my bag, and I instantly recognise him.

I haven't seen him in three years.

He stands up straight, giving me a friendly smile. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart. I wasn't looking where I was going either."

He holds the bag out towards me, laughing lightly, and I glance at him briefly, my cheeks turning a deep shade of pink.

"Thank you," I say quietly, taking the bag.

I'd remember those face tattoos anywhere; he was the bartender from the one night I'd tried to 'live a little'.

I haven't seen him around here before. Maybe he is getting tattooed next door?

He steps to the side politely, holding the door open for me. "It was nice running into you," he jokes.

"You too," I mumble shyly, ducking my eyes down and making a beeline out of the door.

It wouldn't be a normal day if I didn't make a complete twat out of myself at least once.

I decide to sit on the seat out front of the studio, giving myself a few moments alone to get over my embarrassment before I have to go back inside and hold Andy's hand while Jacob tries to murder me with his eyes.

I take one of the lollipops from the bag, unwrapping it and popping it in my mouth. I think I'm the one who needs a treat like a kid who's just bruised their knee at the moment.

It's always my dignity getting bruised.

I watch the traffic passing by, looking around at all the people making their way about their day. I think I find it more fascinating than I should to watch people, but it can be nice seeing the small moments people have, looking from the outside.

People are complicated creatures, and I struggle to understand them a lot of them time, I know I'm naive but I don't think it's such a bad thing, so watching their mundane interactions can sometimes be fascinating to me, often wondering about their life or making up fantastical scenarios in my head about who they might be or what their life might be like.

I suppose I have a bit of an Alice in Wonderland complex; I'm too curious for my own good.

My phone dings, catching my attention as I dig it out of my bag, pressing the button to turn on the screen.

My entire body freezes, my jaw dropping as I read the name on the screen of who has messaged me.

Lucas.

I haven't heard from him since that night. I didn't think I would ever again - I hoped I wouldn't again.

Why is he messaging me? Why does he even still have my number?

I pull the lollipop from my mouth to save it from falling out of my gaping expression, and my thumb trembles slightly as I press the screen to open the message.

Lucas

Sent 3.05 pm:

I spy with my little eye.......a cute little mouse.

I whip my head up, frantically scanning my eyes around the people on the street for that same figure that's haunted my dreams for years now, but my panic turns into confusion when he's nowhere to be found.

How can he see me? Where the hell is he?

He's back.

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."

Lucas stops a few inches from me, and I instinctively take one step back, becoming more nervous.

"I don't know." I stutter, "You were nice to me."

Lucas closes the gap between us, raising his brow and tucking his finger under the strap of my dress, moving his finger back and forth underneath it as he watches thoughtfully. "Nice? Is that what you'd call what happened the last time I saw you?"

Memories flood into my mind of Lucas crawling over the top of me on his bed, kissing me over every part of my skin as he did so, until he reached my neck, which he latched onto, while his hands tore my bra from my body so roughly it ripped down the middle.

I gulp "Yes."

He smirks as he snaps the strap to my dress back against my skin, pulling his hand away to run it through his hair. "I can think of some other words that are much more fitting."

My breathing picks up as he leans forward to whisper in my ear, "Such filthy words, my sweet girl."

The memories keep pouring in, heating my skin as I remember the dirty things he would whisper to me about what he was going to do to me, the obscene things he would growl in my ear as his fingers slipped into my panties while his other hand pinned my wrists with a vice grip above my head.

"Already so wet for me, princess, but I'm going to have you ruining my sheets by the time I'm done with you."

I squeeze my thighs together at the memory of those words, fighting the arousal it's sending through me.

I pull my face back, sucking in a breath, "I should go, my boyfriend is probably wondering where I am."

Lucas's lips quirk, loving how flustered he's made me. "Ah, that little boyfriend of yours - how long have you been with him?"

"Almost two years," I reply quietly, hoping that talking about this will deter him from acting the way he's acting.

I knew coming here was a bad idea, even more so than I expected. He's more dangerous than I thought.

Dangerous in the sense that the same attraction I had all those years ago is still knocking the wind from me like it never left, and I can't let that happen.

I love Andy; I shouldn't be feeling like this towards someone else.

"Isn't that adorable?" he says condescendingly, and I frown slightly.

Lucas tilts his head, squinting his eyes briefly with a smug expression. "Tell me, love, this boyfriend of yours, is he nice to you as well?"

I gulp as I nod, deciding to ignore the obvious thing he's insinuating. "Yes, he is, he's very sweet."

Andy is nothing like Lucas; he would never dream of doing the things that Lucas did, and I'm okay with that - that night with Lucas was a one-time experience, it's not who I am or what I want.

Lucas chuckles, shaking his head as he looks down, and begins to button his shirt, and I want to slap my own eyes for darting down to watch. "Of course he's sweet, I wouldn't expect any less from you."

I try to stop myself from feeling offended at him patronizing my relationship; there's nothing wrong with Andy. He's sweet, kind, and a perfect gentleman!

"Why did you ask me to come here?" I dare to ask, not wanting him to belittle my boyfriend much more.

Lucas lifts his face, only doing a few of the bottom buttons up to his shirt, and gives me a shrug. "I wanted to see you."

"But why?" I press further, having a bit more confidence in myself to question things than the girl he knew back then.

Lucas turns, doing up his jeans while walking to the kitchen counter near us and grabbing a glass filled with what looks to be whiskey, and takes a sip, raising his brows at me as he does so. "Why is it important?"

Is he drinking at this time of the day? It's not even 5 pm.

I can't help thinking about what Andy would say about that, how harshly he would judge Lucas. He would never let me spend time with someone like this, usually.

I walk over to stand next to him, placing my shopping bag on the counter and folding my arms over my chest as I face him, "Because I didn't think you'd want to see me again after that night, and I don't understand why you do now."

"I have my reasons," he replies vaguely, taking another sip from his drink as he watches me over the rim of the glass.

I let out a frustrated breath, knowing I'm never going to get a straight answer out of him.

"So," he says, as he places his drink back on the counter, leaning against it with his hand, "Did you ever start taking those photos you wanted to?"

My brows shoot up in surprise, forgetting I'd mentioned that to him or that he actually remembered after all this time.

Sophie had warned me that Lucas didn't even take enough interest in a woman to even learn their name, let alone remember it, so this has caught me completely off guard.

"Yes, actually," I reply, still slightly dumbfounded.

He smiles at this, and it's one of the first smiles I've seen from him that looks genuine, not laced with mischief or arrogance.

"Good girl, I'm glad to hear that. I'm sure they're fantastic photographs."

I bought a camera a few months after that night with Lucas, and started taking photos at any chance I could get, becoming extremely passionate about the moments I could capture, how I could tell a story or portray a perception of something that people might not see with their own eyes.

It's really only a hobby, but I adore it.

I smile bashfully, genuinely appreciating the compliment.

"Come to Placebo tonight, bring your camera," he says with a stolid expression.

I scrunch my nose up, creasing my brows in confusion, "Why?"

I haven't been back to that place since I met Lucas; they aren't the sort of places I go near, especially these days.

"I know the owner, we have an event on tonight, he'll pay you to take photos of the crowd and use them to advertise the nights on their website," he explains casually, keeping his eyes on mine.

"Oh, Oh no, I couldn't do that," I decline quickly

"You can, and you will. I wasn't asking love."

My brows drop as I purse my lips, becoming annoyed with his bossy attitude. "It's rude to just demand people do whatever you want like that."

He takes a step towards me, leaning his face closer, "I never said I was polite. I don't ask for what I want, I take it."

My stomach turns at the drop of his voice and the intense look in his eyes, and I lean back to create some distance. "I can't tonight, I had plans with my boyfriend-"

"Bring him," he cuts me off, "I won't accept no as an answer, love."

Andy is going to have an aneurysm over this.

I sigh, wetting my lips as I try to compose myself from the feelings his eyes are flaring up inside of me again. "You really aren't giving me an option, are you?"

Apparently, I left my backbone at the front door when I walked in here.

He shakes his head, one of those smug smiles taking over his lips, "Be there at 10 pm, tonight is Devils Night, most people will be in masks or costumes, I suggest dressing up."

"I'm assuming dressing up isn't an option either?"

Lucas lifts his chin, staring down at me over his nose with that same smug look. "You're a fast learner."

I sigh heavily, slightly irritated with myself that I gave in this easily. I can't explain why this man can have me as putty in his hands. "I'm only doing this, this one time, I don't go to places like that."

"If you say so, sweetheart," he says dismissively, turning to grab his drink again. "You should probably get back to that boyfriend before he thinks someone's stolen you away."

"He doesn't have to worry about that," I say assuredly. Andy would never be concerned with such a thing; he knows what I'm like.

Lucas bites down on his lip, his eyes glinting slyly as if he's stopping himself from saying what he's thinking.

I grab the shopping bag from the counter, giving him a tight smile, "I should go, though. It was nice seeing you again."

That's a complete lie; seeing him has done nothing but turn my mind and nerves into shambles.

He chuckles, wetting his lips as he nods back towards me, "You'll be seeing a lot more of me, don't be late tonight."

My breathing labors as I swallow, backing away.

"Bye, Lucas," I say anxiously as I turn to make my way to the front door.

"Bye, little mouse," he murmurs.

As I turned, something caught my attention that sparked the same questions I had the night I spent with him, something I didn't notice when I first got there. In the living room, the back wall was covered with shelves from the floor to the ceiling, all filled to the brim with those same VHS tapes I had noticed in his bedroom, except now.

There were at least triple the amount.

As I reach the front door, I can't help but ask the same question swimming around in my mind: What could be on all of those tapes?

***