Page 4 of Darkness Tempt Me (Bloody Desires #7)

Chapter four

Peyton

A n echo of heat tingles on my lower back, where Mavik’s hand rested earlier as he guided me through New Vernon’s crowded streets. Although I’m an expert at getting around this city, I didn’t shrug away from Mavik’s possessive touch.

Okay, perhaps I’m projecting, wanting his touch to be possessive and that heated gaze in the diner to be real, but damn, dominant men have always been my weakness.

By the time we made it back to Blackwood Investments, my imagination had gotten away from me. Thoughts of work were replaced with images of my boss taking me in the elevator, dominating me with filthy commands and the rough touches I secretly crave.

Yeah, definitely not work-appropriate.

I ended up rushing out of the elevator and making a beeline to the restroom just to hide the evidence of my arousal. Several minutes later, after splashing my face with water, I was finally good to go.

Trying not to obsess over my dirty daydreams or Mavik’s strange behavior, I bury myself in work and emails until the end of our workday. Mavik must have left early because there was a text waiting for me as I passed his office and said goodbye to my coworkers.

Mavik: Thanks for today, Peyton. You did a brilliant job with the reports. And thanks for earlier, at lunch. It’s nice to see your smile.

My body vibrates with excitement over his praise. God, could I be reported if I replied by saying how nice it was to see him smile, too?

Peyton: I’m always smiling, sir.

To my shock, Mavik replies quickly.

Mavik: Brat.

I smile.

“How was lunch with the boss?” Iris asks as we enter the elevator together. She presses the large button for the lobby, and the doors close, giving us privacy.

“It was fine. We talked about work for a while, but our conversation strayed away from that. I kind of thought he was going to talk to me about some investment opportunity or chastise me for not getting another appointment with Mr. Sinclair, but we just chatted about life.”

“Life? Like what? Did you learn anything fun?” She waggles her brows.

I replay snippets of our conversation in my head, remembering how I confided in him about my brother, and later, the way his face lit up when he talked about his mother.

All of it was innocent, but it also felt more intimate somehow.

Different. I don’t think Mavik opens up to people often, and that alone has me treating our conversations like a secret I’m willing to lock away in my heart.

“Well? Spill.” Iris gives me a nudge as the elevator doors open, and we step into the lobby before exiting the building. It’s early enough that the sun is still high in the sky. The sounds of people and cars fill my ears while a fall breeze gently touches my face.

I know Iris; she’s like a bloodhound that won’t give up until I give her something juicy. “Well… I might have snapped at Mavik and told him that if he planned on having a one-night stand, he should have warned me ahead of time.”

“You what?” Iris shouts before a huge smile appears on her face. “Are you serious?”

I groan and nod dramatically. “Yup. It was so embarrassing. The words started tumbling out of my mouth, and surprisingly, I was able to stop myself before the phrase ‘ one-night stand ’ had the chance to leave my lips.” I groan again.

“But Mr. Blackwood got so insistent and sexy, commanding me to finish my sentence. So, I did, and basically told our freaking boss to inform me that if he was going to be late again in the future, he needed to plan it and tell me ahead of time.”

“Oh shit.” Iris barks out a laugh. “What did he say? Did he look at you with that killer stare of his? The one where it looks like he can slice your throat open with just his gaze? God, it’s hot when he does that,” she murmurs the last bit, fanning herself dramatically.

“No! He freaking laughed and asked if I was jealous! He was oddly… playful. Then, he proceeded to tease me, saying that he would keep me in the loop by informing me every time he decided to sleep with someone.”

“Holy shit. I would have killed to be there.” She shakes her head. “Hearing about Mr. Blackwood laughing and being playful boggles my mind. It must have been really weird to witness.”

“I don’t know… I kind of liked it. God, Iris, is it crazy to think he was flirting with me?”

She shakes her head. “Are you kidding? You’re gorgeous, Pey. If Mr. Blackwood is into men, he’d have to be blind not to be attracted to you. Actually, now that I think about it, it kind of makes sense. Sometimes he stares at you like he wants to devour you.”

My face heats, and my mind races.

Fuck me. Now my thoughts return to Mr. Blackwood’s commanding presence, his intense gaze at the diner, and the possessive nature of his touch. It felt like he was claiming me right there on the street, for everyone to see.

As soon as I get home, I notice my brother’s car parked in front of my building. Relief washes through me. Ever since his mysterious phone call this morning, I’ve been worried. “Hey Ty, I’m home,” I call out, tossing my keys onto the kitchen counter.

“In here,” my brother shouts from my bedroom. When I walk into my room, there’s some action movie playing on the TV in the background, and my little brother is curled up under the blankets in the middle of my bed.

My gaze immediately lands on my brother’s red-rimmed eyes and bruised skin.

I freeze, momentarily shocked as images of finding my mother in a similar state flood my mind. How many times have I found her with tear-soaked cheeks and nasty marks covering her body? How many times did I look in the mirror only to find a bloody, bruised reflection staring back?

No, no, no. Not again.

This can’t be happening.

Not again.

Tyler sits up, his gaze meeting mine. “Don’t be mad,” he whispers. He looks so damn small and vulnerable there. So much like me three years ago.

His words snap me into action. I rush forward and sit at the edge of the bed. My fingers hover over a delicate bruise on his right cheekbone. “What happened?” I whisper back. “Who did this to you?”

Tears flood his eyes. I can’t stand it. As carefully as I can, I gather him into a hug, making sure he isn’t hurting somewhere I can’t see.

I know all too well what it’s like to get bruises that stay hidden under clothes.

Tyler trembles in my embrace, and rage fills me. “Who did this to you?” I ask again.

“Connor.” His voice is so soft, I almost think I’m imagining it. My grip tightens as anger boils over. How fucking dare he! I’ve never actually met my brother’s boyfriend, but every time Tyler talks about him, I don’t like what I hear.

We sit there for a long moment, with nothing but Tyler’s quiet sobs and the TV in front of us for noise. I give my brother several minutes, hoping he’ll open up to me, but he doesn’t say anything else.

Damn. Just thirty minutes before, I was daydreaming about being dominated by another man as he gets a little rough with me, while my brother was suffering alone in my room.

What the fuck is wrong with me and my family?

My mother, my brother, and even me. We always seem to pick the wrong types of men.

“Please tell me you dumped his ass,” I say when he finally stops crying.

“It wasn’t like that. Connor… he didn’t mean to.”

An icy chill runs down my spine. “This wasn’t an accident, Ty. I know what this is. I’ve been there, remember? Mom—”

Tyler stiffens before shoving me away. He jumps out of the bed, and my eyes scan his body quickly for more bruises. His knees and arms are scraped, but other than that, it’s just his face. He looks okay. His eyes narrow, and he rushes out of my bedroom.

He’s in the living room, shoving on his shoes when I catch up to him.

“Please don’t go,” I beg, wanting to keep him safe. He shakes his head wildly, and I know I’ve fucked up. I remember what it was like at this stage. No one could have convinced me my piece-of-shit ex was dangerous.

“I’m not you. And I’m not Mom, okay? I know better, and I know how to defend myself,” Tyler snaps. “Connor isn’t like that. It was an honest mistake.”

I wince, not sure if it’s because I’m hurt that my brother is saying these things to me, or if it’s because I get the feeling my little brother is wrong; that yes, Connor is just like that.

“I shouldn’t have come here. I need some space, Peyton. Don’t follow me.”

I frown. “Ty, please.”

“No. You don’t get to pity me. I said I’m not you!” he shouts before storming out of my apartment and slamming the front door behind him.

Anger and hurt cause my temples to throb. Making my way to my spare room, I shove my headphones into my ears and turn up my music. The beat of heavy metal blasts into my ears, distracting me from all the memories that threaten to drown me. I pull a chunk of wood out of my desk and start carving.

It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this powerless. I just hope that what I’m feeling is wrong.