Devils Roses 01 - Cursed

“I have never and will never drug you. I could never hurt you.”
    I hadn’t taken a breath in a while and started to feel light headed. I wasn’t entirely certain, it wasn’t from being drawn to him more than anything in the entire world.
    “ You are so familiar to me,” I whispered still close to his face, his lips were inches from mine. I could feel the heat of his breath on my mouth. He dropped my hand, leaving it hanging in the air.
    “ Maybe you dreamt of me, Aimee.” He smiled the most delicious smile, I had ever seen. He looked like he was struggling with something internally.
    I backed away, needing to come out of the bubble we had somehow stepped into, where we were the only people in the world. "I did dream of you."
    "When?"
    "In the hospital. I swear I know you."
    “ Beloved,” he whispered.
    I was speechless. It had been a long time since anyone had said that word. “What?”
    “ Your name, it means beloved.”
    I took another step away from him. “How do you know that?”
    “ Je parle français.” He just kept getting better.
    “ Well, your name means great protector.” I didn’t know why I said it, but he started laughing.
    "I know what my name means."
    “ My mom called me beloved, all the time. Before she died.” There was gloom in my voice I couldn’t stop.
    He winced. “How did she die?” He was making conversation and being nice to me, but I could see he wanted to escape. Now that I had finally found him, I wasn’t going to make it so easy.
    I never took my eyes off of him, as I spoke quietly, “She was driving from the city to here, she started to get sleepy, I guess. Even though it was midday, she got out of the car on the side of the road. We don’t know why. Sometimes she did some stretching when she got tired, so we think that's what she did. There was a trucker driving toward her and a dog ran out in front of him, a big dog he said. Like a wolf. He swerved and lost control of the tandem trailers he was pulling. My mom was in front of the car, when the back trailer swung around.”
    He cringed, seeing the pain on my face. “I’m so sorry.”
    I had never told the story. The words had never left my mouth. I didn’t cry, like I thought I would. For some reason, I was happy he was the one I told.
    “ She was close to home too, that’s the weird part. She was only about thirty minutes away. It was nine months ago.”
    “ That’s tragic.”
    “ She was an art historian.” The words just kept popping out.
    He smiled. “The most complete detailed biographies in history are art.”
    “ That’s what my mom always said.” A smile crept across my lips.
    “ I guess art lovers all feel that way. I am a huge art buff myself.”
    I was having a hard time guessing his age; he was a man, of that I was certain. But I couldn’t imagine him being more than twenty-five. His face was young looking, but his eyes were wise.
    “ Want to go for a coffee?” I asked quickly, before he could end our conversation.
    He frowned trying to be polite. “I really need to get going.”
    I panicked wanting to grab his arm and drag him somewhere and hold him hostage.
    Seeing the desperation in my eyes, he softened for a second. "I guess one quick coffee wouldn’t kill me.”
    I nodded. “Okay.”
    I felt my phone going off in my pocket and smiled. “I need to tell my dad where we are going.” I grabbed my phone and sent my dad a message, explaining I had gone for a coffee with a friend to talk about art.
    I put the phone back in my pocket, certain my dad was texting me back. I ignored the texts and looped my arm into Aleksander's. I couldn’t fight the urge to squeeze. His body was thick and muscled.
    He escorted me from the library, across the street to the café called Cup O’Feelin. It was our local jazz café, the only café.
    “ So what are you reading now?” he asked looking down at me, his gaze burned through me. I felt things a little nerd like me had only ever scoffed at.
    “ Ancient medicinal practices. It’s riveting,” I replied smiling. I didn’t watch where I was walking and I didn’t look around me, I walked trusting him. Something about him made me feel protected. I felt healthy again, somehow stronger.
    He opened the door for me and waited, as I walked through. I only took my eyes off of him for the second it took him to walk in behind me.
    Adele was singing on the radio about love and hurting as we walked in. I could smell the coffee and fresh-baked treats.