Devil's Plaything

Mark

When Mira opened her eyes the next morning, she was almost certain that she had dreamed the night before. But she picked up Noah's scent, and she could feel the enduring excitement she always felt when he was near. She had fallen asleep in his bed last night, she remembered. That had to mean she was still there.

She shot up, almost slipping off the bed in her attempt to stand. She scanned the area around her, having to adjust her eyes to the bright daylight that streamed in through the room's many windows. Noah wasn't on the bed with her, she noticed instantly. Her stomach fluttered with disappointment before good sense got the best of her. She turned away from the bed, and her eyes landed on the wall of windows across from her.

She approached the windows, taking in the mountains and the morning skyline of the city in the distance. The view encapsulated everything that was beautiful about the place, and it was so striking that she lost her train of thought as she took it in. It was forest and city, peaceful and busy—here, she could see it all with perfect clarity. She had never seen anything like it before; nor had an image ever made her feel so at peace. That peace dissipated, however, when she noticed movement in her peripheral.

Noah lay sleeping on the couch near his bookshelves. He was still dressed in last night's long-sleeved shirt and jeans. Mira approached him, moving as quietly as she possibly could. With each step she took, her heart rate grew faster. She worried that he might wake up, but she was drawn to him like a magnet.

Noah's eyebrows were drawn together, his fists clenched. She almost stumbled back when he moved again, shifting to turn in more her direction. She made sure he was still asleep before she took another step forward. His expression relaxed, almost as if he had sensed her presence. Incapable of stopping herself, she reached for him, running her fingers through his hair. It was soft and thick, and the sensation of her caress brought a small smile to his lips that made her heart flutter in response.

She moved back. That sensation—the fluttering—that was too much. Waking up in the same room that he was in was already bad, and feeling like she wished he had crawled into bed beside her was certainly worse. She couldn't be here any longer; she couldn't risk crossing even more lines with Noah. The idea of leaving him was more upsetting than she would have liked to admit, but that was just another sign that she was making too many mistakes.

Politeness was the last thing on her mind as she turned from him and walked briskly to the door. She opened it with extra caution and closed it without a sound. When she was in the hallway, she searched the area around her to make sure she was alone. Luckily, there was no one in sight, and her sense of security grew as she descended the stairs.

"I made you breakfast," she distantly heard a deep, vaguely familiar voice call out. She froze like a deer in headlights. "In here," the voice rang out again.

She heard the sound of cabinets being opened and closed, and she walked towards the room the noise came from. The door to the kitchen was cracked open, and Mark was busily scooping food onto a ceramic plate. The room was unexpectedly small given the size of the rest of the house, but it had nearly as many windows as Noah's bedroom did. Early morning light streamed in, reflecting off the cabinets and illuminating Mark's hulking frame. The smell of bacon and eggs wafted towards her and made her mouth water. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until that moment.

Mark glanced up from his work, meeting her gaze directly. He gave her an easy smile and motioned for her to join him. Mira wondered if she should just leave. She didn't know this man, and he was threateningly large and strong. Yet there was a compelling, easygoing charm about him and a certain way that he made his gestures and expressions make him seem trustworthy.