15. alessia

15

ALESSIA

When an all-black challenger pulled to the side of the road and didn't get out, I feared it was my stalker problem standing before me, ready to meet and seal my fate finally. I don't know what this person's agenda is. I don't know if this person gets off on scaring people, but they're winning.

Maybe they're the people involved with human trafficking.

But then, a tall, familiar masked man got out with an umbrella, and I saw those vibrant ice-grey eyes.

Daegan is wearing his full mask again. It looks like he changed outfits from El Devine to now. He's wearing dark grey sweatpants, a black sweater, and black and white Converse.

I squinted through the rain, seeing those eyes I've come to know so well, and a wave of relaxation hit me, washing up the apprehension and hesitation.

He's massive, tall, and mysterious. I asked how tall Danny was one day, and he told me he was 6'6. So when they both stood up at El Devine, I realized they were the same height.

Daegan waved me over, ordering me to get in his car. I complied immediately, and I had to do whatever I could to stop my eyes from bulging when I saw the outline of his cock through his sweatpants.

If my eyes didn't deceive me, he's huge.

When he brushed his finger over my bottom lip, I couldn't help but enjoy it too much. I wish he had pushed it into my mouth, and for a moment there, I thought he was going to. When his finger was on my mouth, it sent a pulsating strike straight in between my thighs, and my dirty thoughts went rampant. I wonder what his lips would feel like on mine. I wonder what his entire face looks like.

The energy in his car shifted into something hot and forbidden.

God, what is wrong with me?

I know I just broke up with Jack a few hours ago. Maybe I'm sad, maybe I'm depressed, and maybe I'm angry, but why does a night with him intrigue me so much?

It's been so long since I've felt this heated attraction with someone. Even though I've been with Jack since college, I feel so inexperienced when it comes to pleasure and different kinks that I'm curious to explore.

The break-up with Jack was long overdue. I lost feelings for him a long time ago. Our relationship turned into contentment. But then he started to become aggressive and distant, and our connection dwindled.

And now, the betrayal I didn't want or see coming came true.

Bailey's friendship is gone with it.

Our proximity in the car sends my thighs clenching tight together. His cologne hit me hard, mixed with smoke and his leather seats. Those smells combined created an aroma I could get lost in forever.

Call me crazy, but I fucking love it.

I want to know more about Daegan. I want him to let me in. I can only imagine he wears the mask because he doesn't want people to ask questions about how he got his scars or tell the tale of what it was like being a prisoner of war. Maybe he doesn't want to open up about what he went through, but if he ever did, I'd be all ears.

I hate myself for asking him why he wears his mask. Maybe I overstepped, but his response tells me he didn't mind it.

As we sit in silence listening to Metallica, we turn into a neighborhood.

His house is one story but very spacious. It's in a neighborhood on the outskirts of Bloomings where everyone has one—to two-acre lots. All the houses look like newly built ones.

He really does live around ten minutes away from where he found me.

The storm gets dangerously louder with thunder, and the rain doesn't let up.

He shields me from the rain with his umbrella as we make our rapid walk to the front of his house. He opens the black-painted door fast, motioning for me to get in, and I practically jump inside.

As soon as he shuts and locks the door behind me, we're met with darkness and a smell that's familiar. His home smells like Daegan in all the right ways. I'm still shivering from the cold and wet. He flicks on a switch, illuminating an entryway.

"There is a shower in the hallway, but you can use the shower in my bathroom. There's shampoo in there since I live alone, and I'll let you borrow some of my clothes, so you have something dry to sleep in." He walks in front of me, guiding me inside a hallway. His Converse makes low thuds as he walks. Before I make a turn, I see an all-black couch that wraps around the entire living room and a TV mounted to his light grey colored wall. An all-black colored kitchen with minimal to no decorations but whiskey bottles and sprinkles of military awards on scattered modern pieces of furniture.

A decorated hero.

We turn into the hallway, where there are photos framed alongside it.

There's a photo of two other men, and it looks like they're at a bar that's not El Devine. They're holding up pizza and beer and look happy, like they're cheering for a celebration. Another one follows, and it looks like a deployment photo somewhere overseas. They're in their uniforms, holding rifles, alongside a SEAL team. I see Mr. Rider and Enzo Rooker, which means it has to be SEAL Team executioners.

The last photo I see before entering his bedroom is of a beautiful woman with long black hair holding a baby boy wrapped in a blanket. She's in a long white dress with sleeves and blue eyeshadow painted beautifully across her eyelids. She has the same ice eyes as Daegan. There's such a peaceful essence in the way she's holding him while sitting on a couch.

"Is that you as a baby with your mother?" I point to the photo on the wall, and he looks over his shoulders.

"Yes," he whispers coldly.

We continue to walk through his dark bedroom and get to his bathroom in seconds.

"I will be taking the couch tonight, and you can take my bedroom." He holds the door open like he's already ready to close it. I step in, examining the black and white shower curtains that mimic mountains and snow scenery. I turn around and immediately open my mouth to argue.

"I will not! Let me sleep on the couch. I-"

"I'm not asking Alessia. I'm telling you. I'm taking the couch." He barks.

My teeth jam shut when he says my first name.

I like the way he says my name.

God, he can order me around, and I'll gladly obey.

Shit.

I'm already acting like Winters with Lopez.

"Your boyfriend did that to you." He lifts an eyebrow and points to the marks on my arm.

My head falls down to the red and purple marks. I hold where Jack gripped me with my palm, rubbing it up and down as if it'll erase it. Erase the betrayal. Erase the bruises. The memory of my best friend screwing me over, quite literally with my boyfriend, comes back, and I'm tempted to start bawling my eyes out until I ache.

This hurts so damn much. She was my best friend. They both were.

And now?

I feel like I have no one.

A lump starts to form in my throat, but my somber thoughts slowly fade when my attention gets pulled toward a deep, husky voice once more.

"Didn't he?" He growls, trying to pry the answer out of me again.

I nod, my lips turn into white slits, and I'm silent. I don't know why, but I feel ashamed, even though I have nothing to be ashamed of.

Or maybe I feel shame for staying with Jack this long.

His eyes scream disgust. The same type of gaze he had when he stabbed Frankie. He grips the doorknob tight, his knuckles turning white. The anger radiates off of him, thickening the energy in the room. He shakes his head violently, like he's doing whatever he can to hold back his fury.

"I was trying to leave the apartment when I found him and my best friend together. I was at the door to my place when he tried to stop me." I murmur, unable to look at him anymore.

"I'm going to kill him."

My eyes bulge out of my skull, and I launch forward to stop him before he can dart out of the bathroom. Before he can take another step forward, I squeeze his hand desperately, and I cry out.

"Mr. Hannibal, no, stop! You can't!" I plead with him. After seeing what he did to Frankie, I can't imagine what he would do to someone who left bruises on me.

Why does he care so much anyway?

"I kicked him in the balls," I scoff, remembering Jack's red face."He's probably still on the floor crying about it, honestly." I grab his hand gently, gripping it, hoping I can stop him, just like I did at El Devine.

His eyebrows narrow intensely at my palm like he's fighting an internal battle. I can't tell if I've overstepped. Either way, it's not enough to stop me.

His chest rises and falls fast as he takes in heavy, fiery breaths. We're both still watching each other like we're watching a horrible accident before our eyes, and we can't stop it. There's a connection between us. He knows it. I know it. An indecipherable connection that only time will unravel. We both take in this moment of our skin touching, savoring the intimate silence I don't want to break.

He must feel what I am, too.

He has to be. I watch him…watch my hand, and my lips part.

"They are meant for each other. I might be a little angry and a little upset, but it's the betrayal that still has me in disbelief."

I swallow the rock in my throat, refusing to cry in front of him. I don't want to cry anymore. He senses what I must be holding in because he returns the comforting gesture.

My heart jumps when he starts to trace his thumb over my wrist in circles, and a low hum slips from my mouth.

"Are you this protective over all your assignments? Why do you care so much?" I ask, daring him to answer. Is he a womanizer? Is he like Lopez and Rider? Bailey would tell me about their constant trips to El Devine with different ladies in their arms every weekend.

I take a step forward, not caring if he can see my very hard nipples through my wet shirt. I hope he can see them, and I hope he can feel what this sudden, unexpected attraction is doing to me.

I don't know what's come over me. I'm a mess right now. Figuratively and physically. Why not make more of a mess with a very attractive Navy SEAL?

His eyes move from my hand to my arm and finally stop at my chest. I take another step forward, placing my other hand on his in a way that says thank you.

He clears his throat, rips his hand away, and mutters, "Towels are underneath the sink." He vanishes from the bathroom and shuts the door with a slam like he's trying to escape me like I'm a plague.

I stand there, startled with mixed emotions.

Lust, astonishment, curiosity, but most of all aroused, and I'm questioning every rational part of my mind.

After my shower, the stubborn part of me yearned for Daegan. As the water rained on my hair, I kept replaying the moments at El Devine, his car, and the elevator over and over again. When my time in the shower was over, and I was cleaned up, I found myself searching for him.

His aura was one I wanted to match.

He's just so…unapologetic about how he portrays himself. He doesn't care what anyone thinks about him or his decisions.

I wish I could be like that. It's not in my nature, but maybe with time, I can be.

No one has ever looked at me like Mr. Hannibal. No one.

I want to know him. Every single part of him. He's a captivating mystery in my life I want to explore. Even if those depths are deep and dark, I want to dive into them blindly, not caring if I get stuck in what I think is his madness. He has made me feel seen and heard. I want to be near him like a month to a flame, mesmerized by his scent, his voice, and those eyes.

Cold, grey pools of ice.

With my tiptoes, I creep into the other side of his house through the dark living room. With each step, my feet and drops of water from my hair hit the cold floor. There's an hourglass lamp in the corner that's on with a cream lampshade. He must have left it on by accident. I reach for the string, switching it off before I coat myself with bravery to wake him up. I bite my lip, thinking twice before I do.

I look around hesitantly and spot the kitchen island to my left. A tall glass of Makers Mark Whiskey sits with an empty shot glass.

Did he drink before bed?

I peek at his all-black couch and see his massive sleeping figure with white socks on.

He's still wearing his mask.

Is it because I'm here? Does he always sleep with a mask on?

He should never be ashamed of having scars if that's why he covers himself up.

He's still in the clothes he picked me up in—dark grey sweatpants and a black top. I walk slowly, gripping my towel tight around my breasts.

I don't want to be more of a burden than I already am. I'll sleep in my panties and a towel, refusing to wear his clothes. I won't take more from him than I already am.

He's breathing heavily on his back. Shouldn't he be taking slow, steady breaths if he's asleep? He seems the opposite of relaxed, with his finger muscles slightly twitching around his veiny hands, and his chest rises and falls like he's trying hard to breathe.

Is he having a nightmare?

A frown curves downwards onto my face. I reach for his shoulder, finally taking a leap of faith. He's probably not used to sleeping on the couch. He needs his bed. Maybe that's why he's having a nightmare because he's out of his familiar element.

Which is why I'm here.

"Mr. Hannibal," I whisper while pushing against his bicep with my fingers. Two fast movements have me waiting for a reaction. But nothing follows. I suck in another breath and attempt to wake him up again. He's probably a deep sleeper.

"Daegan," I mumble his first name softly as I get closer to his masked ear, my wet curls falling forward, and they slightly graze his chest.

Faster than I can blink or register what I've done, I'm on the floor in seconds with a knife held to my throat.