Page 55 of Promise of Destruction (Destruction & Vengeance Duet #1)

fifty-two

Soren

I wake gently, having forgotten that I’m sitting upright in a chair that started out comfortable.

The sky outside steals my breath before I’ve even remembered it’s there.

I don’t know how long I slept, but when my eyes started to feel heavy, I’d been glancing out at the puffs of clouds in a stark blue sky. Now, it feels like the plane has slipped into another world.

The golden light of the sun has been reduced to a yellow line on the horizon, sandwiched between swatches of sky that look like they’ve been painted.

Cotton candy pink clouds in the distance, pale blue sky above it, with an inky sort of darkness pressing on that, like the dark is getting ready to fall on the world.

It's beautiful—one of those moments that pulls you apart to make you assess yourself—your priorities, your mindset.

It’s the kind of thing that reminds you you’re alive when so many aren’t, that you are so small in the grand scheme of things, that your problems may feel like the end of the world to you, but that in spite of everything, nature persists, and the world still turns.

There’s something oddly comforting about that.

I smile, but it slips off my face in shock when I turn to find Declan staring at me.

All of the comfort I’d felt a moment ago is drowned, chased away by the weight of his eyes on me and the knowledge that he’s watching me.

How long has he been doing that?

I wait for him to say something, to mock me for falling asleep, to tell me I snored or talked in my sleep. He doesn’t speak, so I do.

“You were just watching me?”

It’s a fact—I saw him doing it—but it comes out like a question.

“Yes,” Declan says, his voice a whisper, hoarse with disuse.

I realize that, though he’s watching me, he isn’t looking at me. He almost seems to be looking through me.

“How long have you been watching me, creep?”

That seems to draw him back from wherever his mind went. His eyes slide up to mine and his humor is back, shaping his mouth into a grin.

“How long have you been asleep?”

I glare at him but then realize I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep. It seems like forever.

My body is stiff, my bladder is screaming, and my mouth feels like I’ve been chewing on cotton.

“A few hours,” I glance out the window, trying to gauge the time between when we left and now.

Declan laughs, leaning forward in his chair. I realize he’s changed into a tee shirt—a plain white tee shirt that hugs his biceps and skims across his broad chest, stark against his tanned skin.

“A few hours?” He teases. “Try again.” He gestures out the window, so I turn to see whatever I’m supposed to.

The darkness that I thought was pressing on us has actually lightened a little, chased away by the light of the sun. It’s not the set of the day; it’s the rise of a new one.

“No way,” I say, turning back to Declan. “How could I have slept that long?”

Declan shrugs, a lock of his hair brushing over his eyes. He sweeps it back without a stray thought, and I realize he looks tired.

“Guess you were really worn out from assaulting your kitchen last night.”

Ignoring his mockery of me, I squint at him. Gone is the clean-cut, fresh face he presents to the world. He looks like he’s missed a few days’ worth of shaving. The dark circles under his eyes reiterate the story his beard tells.

“Did you sleep?”

I hate the concern that leaks into my voice—I pray he doesn’t notice, but of course he does.

“Worried about me, Ren?”

I wrinkle my nose at him, not sure how I feel about him using my nickname. The only people who call me that are Marissa because she’d been around to hear my grandmother use it, and Khan because that’s how Marissa had introduced me to him.

I look around, trying to get my bearings, and note the smirk on his face.

“You have my phone, don’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His feigned innocence is canned; there’s one thing that Declan Evers doesn’t have. He’s a crap actor.

“Declan…” My voice is low with warning— threat that I can’t follow up on.

“Soren…” His low voice matches mine. When I don’t waiver, he laughs, lifting my phone in the air like some sort of trophy. “You know, we both knew I was watching you, but I think you downplayed your obsession with me.”

I take a step forward, reaching out to snatch my cell out of his hand.

He whips it back, his amusement growing when I teeter off balance, an advantage he uses to pull me hard down on his lap.

I wince and push against his chest, terrified that my bladder is about to give up on me.

I think I’ll die of embarrassment if I piss myself on the lap of a man that I keep having the sexiest thoughts about.

If I’m honest, I want to do filthy things with him—but not this sort of filth.

“I have to pee.” I tell him, my tone pleading though my words aren’t.

“Is that so?” Declan muses. His words come out like a purr, sensual and velvety and I realize just how close his lips are to mine. We’re talking about bodily functions, but he sounds like he’s trying to seduce me.

“Please,” I gasp, when he pulls me deeper into him, forcing my legs further apart.

“So now isn’t a good time for this?” He fingers the waistband of my leggings, the pad of his thumb brushing against my skin.

It feels good, but all I say is “no”. It comes out like a moan, though… a breathy and drawn out “ nooo ”. It’s so soft I’m not sure he even heard it, but his eyes flick to mine, his hands retreats.

I move to stand when his lips crash down on mine.

Everything about it is unexpected—the force, the tenderness, the abruptness, the lack of hesitation. He tastes like mint, which makes me remember that I haven’t brushed my teeth because I’ve been asleep and my mouth felt funny, so my breath is probably horrendous.

For all the horror I feel at the idea he’s tasting my morning breath, he doesn’t seem repulsed.

In fact, he kisses me harder when I start to pull away, dragging me back into him.

His lips press over mine, unrelenting, almost violent.

It kindles a weird feeling in me, something I can’t give a name to… something dangerously like desire.

It ends just as abruptly as it began; I don’t even get a chance to look at him before he stands, forcing me off his lap.

“Go.” He says, pointing to the room at the back of the jet. “Before I change my mind and keep you here.”

It’s oddly humiliating, like he’s just sent me away for disappointing him.

Uncomfortable heat washes over me as I brush past him, intentionally knocking into him on my way past. I expect a hand to drag me back to him, to knock me to the ground in retaliation, but he just laughs.

I barely bother to lock the door, flicking it half-heartedly at the same time as I yank my pants down in such a rush that I’m peeing in the dark.

I don’t know if it’s the darkness, the unsettling quiet, or the fact that I really had to go, but it’s the longest pee of my life before I jump up and hit the light.

I should have left it off.

The reflection in the mirror isn’t flattering. My hair has been flattened on one side of my head from sleeping on it, the usually-faint lines on my forehead look like they’ve been carved into my skin, and my complexion is ruddy at best.

I glance around the small bathroom, looking for anything to help me freshen up.

There’s not much, but a small cabinet holds a few toiletries, which I assume were put there for guests and don’t feel bad using.

Thankfully it’s all still packaged, so I brush my teeth, rinse with the mouthwash, drag one of the skin wipes over my face, and rake my fingers against my scalp, tousling my hair gently.

It won’t make me look better, but I reach around and unhook my bra too, relief washing over me as the band pulls away.

Not sure I can hide it from Declan, but I’m not walking back out there with it in my hand, so I tuck it in the drawer and make a mental note to come back right before we get off the plane.

By the time I leave the bathroom, I feel a lot better than before I stepped in there.

I want to hide a bit longer, not wanting to face Declan with the humiliation he left me with by pushing me away so abruptly, but I have no idea how much time is left in our flight and I can’t hide from him forever.

I don’t expect him to be standing there the minute I open the door, his large body blocking the exit of the bedroom I didn’t even look at in passing.

I swallow, rolling my shoulders, and clear my throat, searching for something to say—anything.

But no words come so I turn my eyes down and make my way toward the door on the chance that he’ll move out of the way to let me pass.

Of course, he doesn’t. I go as far as I can without running into him, and Declan goes the rest of the way, closing the space between us with a single step that leaves barely a breath of air between us.

“You never answered me.” He says, speaking again like we’ve just stopped chatting a second for someone to take our order. It seems Declan has a one-track mind and he assumes I’m not thinking a million things all at once.

“What?” I blink. “You didn’t ask me anything.”

You dumped me off of you like I’d spilled something on you , I think.

“I said that you downplayed your obsession with me.” He presents my phone again, flashing it toward me so that I can see the screen is covered with photos of him. He’s looking at my stuff on the cloud—the stuff I used when I was working on my article.

I saved several photos, not sure which one I was going to use until I’d submitted it. I’d also had about twenty tabs open to various bits of information regarding him—a reddit post, his LinkedIn profile, different google results.

I’m glad my last phone broke, so at least he hasn’t seen all of that . It’s just the entire file I’ve labeled with his name.

I groan loudly. The humiliation I thought was bad moments earlier doubles, twisting in my stomach. “That was for my article.”

“Sure,” he nods, “the article.”