Chapter 7

That song takes me back to some of the darkest days of my life. “Is this some kind of a sick fucking joke?” I shout at no one in particular, my eyes searching the room. Everyone else looks just as confused as I am.

Chris lets out a deep sigh, releasing his hold on my arms and stepping back. He looks defeated as he stands there staring at me. “No matter how much I want to stop this from happening, I can’t. You have to see what he’s become. Just remember that you are safe, and I won’t let anything happen to you, little kitten. You won’t be alone.” With one last glance, Chris backs away from me and pushes through the sea of people staring at us. I’m gazing after him in confusion and concern, when an excited shout catches my attention.

“Oh my fucking god! It’s you! Holy shit!” Whispers of excitement ripple through the room. People turn excitedly, going on tip-toe, even jumping up and down trying to see who just walked in.

I don’t know what’s going on, but my body is rebelling against me. I feel clammy and shaky, barely able to stand on my own two feet. The Soulstorm Serenade song. My Soulstorm Serenade song. Chris’ weirdness. Something is desperately wrong. In the back of my mind, I know I’m not safe here, and I know it’s because of whatever just breezed into this house.

Even knowing that, I still find myself walking towards the front door, mindlessly making my way through the crowd. It’s like I’m in a trance, but my heart is racing, and my breathing is going faster than a meditative trance state would usually imply. I quicken my pace to make my way towards the front door, as if I’m being summoned by some unknown entity. The only sounds I can hear over my breathing, and the music, are the people around me.

Their breathy murmurs and excitement seem so much more audible than they should be, but I still can’t make out the words. Murmurs turn to shouts and screams of excitement, and the crowd amplifies to a combustible uproar as I inch my way closer to the front door.

I finally make my way to the front of the room. I’m expecting to have to search for the source of the excitement, but there’s no question once I see it. Once I see, him .

All conscious thought leaves my brain. My knees wobble uncontrollably, a muffled sob tearing from my lips as tears well up instantly behind my eyes. Frozen in place, I stand there like a statue, eyes locked on Oliver. A very much alive, living, breathing Oliver. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t move. He’s here. My Oliver is here .

Oliver stares at me, a wicked grin on his face and a hungry expression in his eyes. His finger slowly trails up and down his stomach as he lets out a soft chuckle. “Hey, pet. Did you miss me?” he says in his thick, English accent.

His words shove me back into alertness. Did I miss him? Those are the words he chose to speak to me after two years? As if he had just gone on some fucking vacation, and he just came back? My shock quickly fades into anger, and rage starts pulsing through my body and consuming me. I’ll show him how much I fucking missed him. I’m finally able to move my body, and I storm over to him in a whirl of fury.

“Did I miss you? That’s what you have to say to me? What the actual fuck, Oliver!” My whole body trembles. I grab the chest of his black hoodie and tug, pulling him closer to me. I don’t know whether I’m going to climb him like a tree or murder him. I’ll figure out which it will be after he looks me in the goddamn eyes and tells me everything.

My knuckles are white from the grasp I have on his hoodie. I’m holding on to him for dear life. I need to feel him, feel that he’s real. That he’s really here. I may hate him, he may have broken my heart, but he’s still my Oliver. The Oliver that vanished from my life after being an essential part of it. My chest heaves, and I’m gasping for air like I can’t get enough of it.

Oliver meets and holds my gaze, that grin still pasted on his face. As if this is fucking funny. If it is, then I want to be let in on the joke. As it is, I just want to scream.

I’m sure every single person in this house is watching this interaction, either with their own two eyes or through their cell phone camera. I don’t fucking care. Too much about this exact moment reminds me of the last time I saw Oliver. A room filled with other people hearing a raw conversation between me and Oliver that lays out every horrifying element of our relationship. It’s like history is repeating itself. But this time, I’m not going to be running away. This time, if I shove him down, I’m going to break the cycle and face him—to demand the answers that I desperately seek.

Oliver extends one hand to caress my face with his knuckles. His touch is colder than I expected—I wince as his flesh meets my own. That unsettling grin slowly disappears as he stares at me like I’m something precious to him. A glint of orange flashes in his eyes, so quick that I think it must be a trick of my imagination, because they’re his normal hazel hue seconds later. “Did you not miss me, then? I sure missed you, pet.” Half of his mouth tilts up to form a smirk. His hand cups my cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing across my cheekbone. My rage is the only thing that stops me from leaning into his touch.

“What an idiotic question. Of course, I missed you!” My eyes search his wildly, flicking side to side, as if his eyes that lied to me so well during our relationship will give me any answers. “Where the fuck have you been, Oliver? You just disappeared! It’s been two years. You can’t just walk in here and act like nothing happened. Like you didn’t just… leave me.” I’m seconds away from losing it, gripping his hoodie tighter in my shaking hands. “Please just… I just need you to talk to me. Please.” I’m begging, tears running down my face. I release one fist from my death grip on his hoodie. I hesitate before I place my palm against his cheek—his skin is so cold. I lick my lips as anxiety surges through me—I need to feel him—feel that he is real. I need to have this conversation now because even though he stands before me now, he can easily vanish on me again. “Please, Oli.” My voice is a broken whisper.

He’s stroking my cheek with his thumb, eyes steady on mine as he exhales deeply through his nose. “This conversation is really gonna have to wait, my sweet Danica. You see, I came here to collect something of mine.” He brings his other hand to my cheek, holding my face steady between his palms, his expression intense as he drinks me in. “In case you were wondering, that something is you, by the way. You’re mine, Dani. But you’re not safe here. I need to protect you, pet. So we need to go. Right now.” His words are urgent, but he’s still gliding his thumb over my lower lip almost unconsciously, voice low and seductive.

I want nothing more than to just lean into his embrace, breathe in that scent that’s so uniquely Oliver, and never leave, but my need for answers is far more urgent. “Why does everyone keep saying that I’m not safe? Tell me what’s going on right now, or else I’m not going anywhere with you. ” I force my hand to release its hold on his hoodie and shove away from him.

Oliver sighs in disappointment. “Well, if that’s how you want it to be. I don’t really care. You’re coming with me whether you want to or not. You don’t have a choice.” His eyes darken a shade as he steps towards me once more.

My heart starts pumping roughly in my chest, adrenaline coursing through my veins. He looks like a predator. Dangerous. Murderous. Every fiber of my being is demanding that I run. That look in his eyes. I’ve never seen that look on his face before.

He grabs my arms suddenly, grip tight enough that I couldn’t break his hold if I tried. That thought motivates me to panic. I’m thrashing in his hold, whipping my head back and forth, trying to escape his touch. Where the hell is Elijah when I need him?

Oliver wraps one of his hands beneath my chin, forcing my head up. “Look at me,” he growls. Something is seriously wrong with him. What happened to him in those two years?

Almost unconsciously, I stop thrashing in his arms. Slowly, I lift my eyes to meet his once more. My breathing is slow, rasping, as I hold his stare. I have a sense of unease, and then… nothing.