Page 8 of Darkness Tempt Me (Bloody Desires #7)

Chapter eight

Peyton

“ C ome on, come on. Answer the damn phone, Ty.”

The next morning, I’m pulling my peacoat tighter around my body to protect myself against the fall chill and locking my apartment door while I listen to the phone ring and ring. When Ty’s answering machine sounds in my ear, I sigh in frustration. After the beep, I leave a message.

“Hey, Ty. Call me back. Please don’t shut me out,” I plead, walking down the street toward my local café.

If I hurry, I can get a coffee for Mavik and me before work.

After tossing and turning most of the night, caffeine is definitely needed.

“I’m always here for you. You know that, right?

I shouldn’t have assumed things, and for that I’m so sorry,” I say as I pick up speed.

Quickening my pace feels like I’m trying to outrun the memories of my past. And maybe I am.

But after all the shit my ex put me through, it left a mark on my soul.

Tyler knows I barely made it out of that relationship alive.

Something like that fucks with one’s head.

Still, I shouldn’t have compared our situations.

I turn the corner, officially leaving my neighborhood, and walk onto the busy city street. It’s like stepping through a portal; one moment, the faint traffic sounds are only in the background, then suddenly, I’m plunged into the city’s chaos.

“I love you and need you in my life,” I pause, lost in thought.

I’m about to hang up when an image of the flower I found last night comes to mind.

There are only two conclusions I could come up with: either my brother left it there, or maybe there actually was a masked man watching me.

I shake my head at the ridiculousness. “I know this is super random, but did you happen to leave a gardenia on my patio? It was odd. There were red dots on it that kind of looked like—” Fuck.

Was I really going to finish that sentence?

The red dots almost looked like blood, but there’s no way anyone would leave a bloody flower on my patio.

Not only is it crazy, but it would make me sound crazy, too. “Anyway, call me back.”

Crossing the street, I walk into the café, immediately savoring the coffee scent.

I spot Billy, my favorite barista, and grin.

Since he’s too preoccupied with customers, I step in line and unwind the scarf from around my neck.

By the time I make it to the front of the line, my stomach is growling, reminding me I forgot to grab a Pop-Tarts on the way out the door.

“Hi, Billy! Can I get my usual—” My words trail off when his face comes into focus.

“Oh my gosh,” I blurt. “What happened to your face?” As soon as the words are out, I wince.

Billy is about my age, maybe twenty-five or twenty-six, if I had to guess.

He’s gorgeous, with long brown hair tumbling out of an unruly man bun.

Usually, the man bun isn’t my thing, but I’m pretty sure Billy can pull off anything. Anything but a black eye.

A dark purple bruise sits mainly under his eye and on his cheekbone. It looks painful, especially with the way it makes the bruised eye droop. I’ve known Billy for about six months or so, and he’s always sporting a grin. As if reading my thoughts, he gives me a weak smile.

“Hey there, Peyton,” he says softly, eyes bouncing around nervously.

Peering around us and making sure no one is within hearing distance, I lean forward for some extra privacy. “I’m so sorry I blurted that out loud,” I whisper. “Are you okay?” Damn, I hate that question. It sounds so stupid, especially when it’s obvious he isn’t okay.

“I’m fine. It’s nothing really.” Billy’s eyes meet mine before he lets out a deep sigh and leans in even closer. He shakes his head as if changing his mind. “No. I’m not okay,” he whispers back. “It—damn, this is embarrassing. Just forget I said anything.”

I bite my lip and reach for his hand. It’s cool to the touch.

I fucked things up with my brother yesterday, and I don’t want to repeat the same mistake.

I might not know Billy well, but I want to be here for him if he needs it.

“Please don’t be embarrassed.” I squeeze his hand in mine. “You can talk to me anytime.”

Something flashes in his eyes, too quick for me to decipher. “Thank you, Peyton.” He squeezes my hand back before his tone turns cold, emotionless. “It was my boyfriend. He did it to me.”

I tense. What the fuck? His boyfriend? I didn’t even know Billy was seeing someone.

Every time we talked, I got the impression he was single.

Then again, if his boyfriend is a piece of shit, why would he be mentioning the guy?

Is everyone meant to find at least one abusive asshole in their life?

Billy bites his lip, studying me, almost as if he’s waiting for me to judge him.

I would never judge him for something like this. I couldn’t.

“That’s terrible, Billy. Is he always like this? Or was it an accident, maybe?” I ask, my voice sounding hollow and echoing in my ears. I’m trying not to jump to conclusions.

“Not an accident. He meant to hurt me.”

Something in the way he says those words.

It’s the tone of his voice. The defeated admission of the truth.

That’s what hits me the hardest. My healing progress over the last three years just washes away, like water swirling down the drain.

Memories flash across my eyes, unbidden.

Pounding fists and sharp slaps. Sharp kicks to the ribs.

Hushed whispers. My mother, sobbing on the floor, clutching her arm. Small whimpers.

An intense wave of dizziness hits me, and suddenly I know what this is. It’s been years since I’ve felt this helpless. My vision narrows before it grows dark. I can’t register anything around me but my lungs trying and failing to pull in air.

Time slows down, and seconds feel like hours. My vision flickers in and out while blood rushes to my ears.

I need to sit down.

I need to run away.

I can’t move.

“Peyton! Peyton!” Billy pulls me into a tight hug, using his hand to smooth back the curls out of my eyes.

When did he come around the counter to my side of the cash register?

I blink, realizing the whimpers were coming from me.

His tight embrace is making it harder for me to breathe, and when his fingers tangle in my hair like a lover, I want nothing more than to put space between us.

I jolt back, mortified. “Oh god, I—I.” It’s been a really long time since I had a panic attack like this.

Billy’s face comes into focus; his brows scrunched in concern.

My gaze wanders over to his black eye, and I’m pretty sure it was the emptiness in his tone that triggered the attack.

Maybe that and the combination of seeing my brother just the night before in a similar state.

“Can I get you anything?” Billy asks, getting back into my space and rubbing my arms. I know the gesture is meant to be soothing, but I’m too on edge, filled with too many negative feelings.

I step out of reach, and his face falls.

I hold up a hand. “I’m okay. Can I get some water, please?

I need to have a seat.” I walk to the back of the café with shaky feet, only vaguely aware of those around me.

As I move, I clutch the backs of the empty chairs nearby, silently praying I don’t topple over.

I choose a seat away from the crowd, and I turn around as I sit.

I jump when I realize Billy followed me over here.

“Of course. One water coming up,” he says quickly, making my head spin. “Let me get your usual coffee for you and your boss. On the house.”

I shake my head. “No. No coffee for me. Just for my boss. Caffeine sometimes makes my attacks worse.”

Billy nods. “What about some herbal tea? Caffeine-free.”

“Okay, sure,” I say quickly, just needing some time to myself. My attack hasn’t fully passed, but I need to feel grounded, and I can’t do that with Billy buzzing around me like a bee.

Billy rushes back with water before quickly leaving again.

After a few moments to myself, that strange feeling of being watched sends a chill up my spine.

This is nothing like last night, where it felt like my imaginary Mavik was undressing me with his eyes.

No, this is different. There’s something unsettling and creepy about this sensation.

Something disturbing, like bugs crawling on the side of my face.

It’s been happening more often, and it’s really starting to freak me out.

I peer around, trying to capture someone in the act.

Billy’s coworker is up at the cash register already taking orders, and I notice a few nervous glances aimed my way, but nothing unusual.

My face heats with embarrassment. Damn it.

How long did I stand there, heart beating frantically in my chest while I whimpered like a crazy person?

No, not crazy. I tell myself. I remember my therapist’s soft voice and kind words.

‘It’s normal to be triggered by things others might find random.

Panic attacks are completely expected, especially with everything you survived. Your symptoms will pass soon.’

Pulling out my phone, I call my brother, but of course, he doesn’t answer. He always used to be the person I called when I had a panic attack, but it hasn’t been that way for a while. I call the only other person who usually makes me feel safe.

I call Mavik.

“Peyton,” he says, tone smooth. “Make sure you’re in my office in ten minutes. We need to talk.”

Fuck, I must be crazy. His domineering voice and forceful command settle something inside my soul. I let out a deep sigh before slowly breathing in through my nose, holding it, then letting it out.