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Chapter 38
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2024-10-29 19:42:56Patricia
After I've voiced my suspicion, everyone seems to come to the same conclusion—that I'm right or that the killer is someone living on our grounds under our radar. It would make the culprit a human, which Elijah finds rather doubtful, but we aren't leaving anyone out.
Alice yawns, stretching her arms. "Will you be alright sleeping by yourself?"
I smile at her and nod encouragingly. Elijah and Wesley are borrowing our guestroom downstairs, and while the haunting image of my father will probably prevent me from sleeping, I can't bring myself to tell Alice. She is already super worried about me, and I don't want to keep her up for the rest of the morning.
"Yeah, I'm fine. You head upstairs."
Alice hands me a smile of her own. I suspect she doesn't believe me to be fine, but one glance at the man listening in on our conversation got her stifling a laugh.
"Alright," Alice beams at me. "Sweet dreams, Patricia."
I wave her off,
VeliciahWrite-Hard-November is going to kill me with the number of words I'm getting down on paper... Well, on-screen.
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Alice I roll my eyes the second the door to my room is closed. The older Dior is sitting on my bed with a cheese tray in his lap. He is munching away while looking at some nature program with sharks in it—typical older Dior. "What if someone finds you in here?" I ask as I near my bed, slipping a knee over the mattress to climb up. The duvet is dark blue cashmere, summoned by none other than the prince of darkness himself. "Let them." Dior doesn't even look away from the screen. "Patricia seems to have finally found the other me, and I'm not exactly a threat to them—I want her to be happy." I sigh and glance at a lion eating a zebra. "Why do you keep coming back here, then?" "Why not?" Dior snorts and his lips form a grin. "This timeline is heading in another direction so far away from my own that I find it interesting, and besides, you still need my help." I lean my back against the bedrest. I'm still wearing my clothes, but I'm used t
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PatriciaI wake up with a start, feeling like something important is missing. I look around, and the absence of Dior hits me like a freight train. A sudden pang of loneliness strikes my chest like a bullet.Lost and confused, my eyes dart around the room, searching for the man as if he would be found behind a piece of furniture. Fuck me. Did he leave?My head throbs. I'm already planning on listening to Adelle and quench the fires of pain wracking through my body, but then I hear it, Dior whistling.A song from my Youtube playlist is on low volume, and Dior is whistling along with it, as happy-go-lucky as ever. What the hell?I stare at the bathroom door, and in a barely-awakened state, I slide down onto the floor. My feet touch wood, and I silently sail forward with my head emptied from thoughts. The bedroom is cold, and I'm met with a warm mist the second I push open the bathroom door.Dior pauses the music, then throws me a slow-spreading
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Patricia Dior got me pinned against the shower wall with his head slightly tilted to look down at me. There isn't an ounce of fat on his body, and the arm resting on the tiles is heavy with well-developed muscles someone would expect on a pro athlete. I swallow thickly, nervous under his intense gaze, drinking me in. His full lips quirk up higher, and his playfulness shines through his eyes. Jesus Christ—what am I supposed to do? My idea had been to shower, but at the moment, I'm having a hard time ignoring Dior and his carved body. My lower belly is somersaulting already, hyperaware of the alpha man dwarfing me. And even though I'm met with the brick wall that is Dior's front, I'm aware of the muscular bubble butt hiding behind him. "I want you so badly," Dior lowers himself to kiss my neck. It proves hard for him. I'm tiny, more than an inch shorter than Dior, nothing compared to his six-foot-something body, and every part of me flutters when he pic
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PatriciaSomething is strange with Dior this morning. I can't put my finger on what is wrong with him, but those usual butterflies aren't there in my stomach when our gazes meet across the table. The mate-bond is strong and stirring, zapping between us like chemical electricity, but it's like my heart isn't entirely sold by Dior this morning.I'm aware this isn't good. My emotions worry me. An hour ago, I was ready to consider completing the mating ritual with Dior, and now I'm glad I didn't let him anywhere close to my neck.Does this mean my feelings for him aren't strong as I first thought since I'm already changing my mind about things? Nothing is making sense right now. I had sex with Dior this morning—how can my flutters be gone and over with already? Oh, god, I can only pray I'm not one of those girls who thinks the grass is greener on the other side!I bite into the pancake piece on my fork, eyeing Dior while he scrolls through his message o
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Alice For the first time in my life, I wake up feeling refreshed and entirely awake without a hint of tiredness. Older Dior's magic didn't work on me. I never visited William in my dreams, but at least I'm well-rested and more than ready to take on whatever challenge today will bring. I stretch in my bed, smiling like a fool, when I notice older Dior folded my clothes neatly by the edge of the mattress before leaving. It turns out my friend is a nice guy whenever he isn't stealing my salty Pringles or eating my strawberry cheesecake ice cream. I slip out of bed, put on my clothes, and barely make it through the door before a crying Patricia rushes up the stairs. She moves past me without saying good morning, and confusion is my initial response. Patricia seemed so happy going to bed with Dior yesterday, and now her mascara is running down her face. Did Dior do something to make her cry? Probably. Anger hits me like a tropical wind, and
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Patricia I've never been powerful or memorable. When I was younger, my pack members laughed and bullied me and called me fat Patty, but their menacing voices made my skin thicker even as their words burned me. Tears were replaced with resolution. I became a lone wolf and someone convinced I didn't need any helping hand to survive. The lines around my eyes grew darker, and my inner poison and resentment for the alpha who treated me like shit turned me into a bitter woman. But when Dior touched me, my barriers collapsed. My flesh shone like the skies and heavens. He kissed me, pressed me up against the tiled wall while my soul begged to be seen and held in his arms. And he gave it to me, everything that I ever wanted—for the first time in my life, I was lost and found. I clench my fists as I pass the walls where my name is written in red blood. Some letters are small, whereas others are capitalized. The entire house reeks of magic and darkness.
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