Property of a Gordon

Chapter Forty Two

Enjoy ;)

Chapter Forty Two

If I believed in fate or destiny, I would say the universe was against me. I was walking down one path, but the universe was shoving me down another.

I'd finally tamed my pride for the time being and went to attempt to apologize to Kendall. Except, someone thought it would be hilarious to suffocate me before I even made it halfway. I did what I thought was the right thing only for the universe to send someone to take me out.

Waking up was more confusing than anything. My head was pounding, and my surroundings didn't look even vaguely familiar. I thought it was because I was disoriented, so I sat up and allowed my eyes and mind to adjust.

After a minute or so, things began to reluctantly add up. The room still smelled of the sweet flowers that were standing proudly in vases, and I knew without looking that the dark oak nightstand beside the bed would hold a small, unique statue of a bronze woman.

It was the reason I hadn't been able to put up a good fight. He was stronger than I would ever be, as much as I hated to admit it, and that was without trying.

I glanced at the door, grateful for my small advantage. I knew who I was facing, but not why. I felt more curious than fearful at this point, which might not have been the best approach.

I went to the door, deciding it was worth a try instead of sitting and waiting. I found myself staring blankly at the door as the doorknob kept turning and it opened. No way in hell was it going to be this easy.

I paused, listening for any noise. It was dangerously quiet, but I knew he had to be around somewhere, listening just as well. But I didn't exactly know where he was, which was just another disadvantage.

It was funny how much this house used to mean to me. The first time he'd introduced me to his "vacation" home, I instantly fell in love with it. It was spacious with a modern look, but comfortable for a house placed in the woods. The lack of dust particles and covers over the furniture told me it was more than a vacation home, but I never questioned it.

He seldom brought me to this house, even on those special occasions. I used to plead and beg him, but he would only laugh and tell me no, that there was a reason we didn't go to it daily. Once he said it was "much too dangerous," but when I pressed, he changed the subject with ease.

When we did come here though, it was blissful. There was no television, phone, or any technological distractions. Sometimes, we would even take the light bulbs out of their sockets and inhale the enticing smell of scented candles and watch the crackling fireplace lick at the wood.

Maybe he brought me here for reminiscent purposes because that was what was happening. I was having trouble paying attention to my surroundings because I could still faintly smell candles, see them flickering from side to side, and taste his lips on mine.

By the time I recovered, I was in the living room, which was lit dimly by a lone lamp. He was there too, on a black leather couch that suited him well. In a similarly colored collared shirt, he looked both comfortable and lethal.

There was a crystal wine glass placed deliberately in his hand, a small portion of red liquid still in the glass. His legs were propped on the table, the bottle of wine sitting right next to his feet.

"I once believed a wolf's loyalty was what defined us; I thought the superior trait made us invisible. But it was a mere weakness," he said, laughing humorlessly without looking back.

I walked over, sitting on the couch that faced him, meeting his amber eyes. They had always looked so ancient, so wise to me, just like the beautiful eyes of a natural wolf. They were always so easy to be mesmerized by, so I supposed they were what helped him slip in the deepest lies.