UNMASKED: Volume 2 Page 4

  Fuck! Now I’m hearing things?

  I knew something like this would happen. Living in the dark for so long made my sense of hearing quite acute. Suddenly, my face hurts and tears sting my eyes as an awful question enters my mind. Will I ever get used to living in the daylight? Maybe I’m just better suited for the darkness.

  The monsters we can’t see are the scariest ones of all.

  I knew when my mom said these words to me that she was referring to me. I was the scary monster that no one could see. They hid me from the world to protect others, not just me.

  Entering my house, I wipe my tears as I head directly for my bedroom closet to retrieve some clean clothes. I need a shower. I need to wash away the vomit and the salty air that’s dried on my skin.

  The moment I open the closet door, my stomach drops. That briny smell that was so thick in the air when we were at the docks last night has invaded my wardrobe. But there’s another smell mixed in with it.

  I sniff the small collection of clothes hanging before me and I immediately recall the scent. Fresh and soapy. Earthy like… oak.

  Something in my closet must have come in contact with Daimon while he was in my apartment in L.A. Hell, he was probably in my old apartment many times while I was gone working at the gas station. I’ve been too busy trying to blend in to my new home, I didn’t notice I’d brought a piece of home with me.

  I miss L.A.

  And, as sick as it is, I miss Daimon.

  I miss his scent. I miss his kiss. I miss his voice.

  I miss the anticipation of not knowing when he’d arrive. I miss the feeling of his warm skin on mine.

  But, most of all, I miss being in the presence of someone who was my equal.

  You and I … we are the same, Alex.

  I peel off my dress and look down at my perky nipples and the soft curve of my hips. I recall the time Daimon sat me on the edge of my bed and knelt before me so he could devour me. I close my eyes and my heart races as I remember how it happened, allowing my mind to embellish where my memory is fuzzy.

  I slide my hand over my ribs and cup both my breasts, pinching my nipples, I imagine Daimon’s mouth covering my areola. His tongue flicking my sensitive flesh. That familiar throbbing between my legs returns. A pulsating, flashing signal, beckoning me.

  I slide my hand down my belly and into my panties. As soon as the soft pad of my fingertip comes in contact with my clit I gasp. Leaning against the doorframe of the closet, I inhale that familiar scent as I stroke my swollen bud.

  I remember Daimon’s mouth sucking my clit. His fingers massaging me from within. How he made me taste myself. Finger-fucking my mouth and forcing me to savor it.

  “Oh, God. Daimon,” I breathe, my right finger working soft circles over my achingly swollen clit.

  I slide two fingers of my left hand into my mouth and imagine Daimon’s hard cock. That sticky bitterness I tasted on the tip. My legs begin to wobble as an orgasm approaches. I lift one of my legs and press my foot against the other side of the doorframe across from me to steady myself.

  I suck hard on my fingers as my other hand brings me to orgasm. Then I slide down to a crouch on the wooden floor. Hugging my knees to my chest, I finally allow myself to weep for the loss of Daimon.

  My other half.

  I bury my face in my arms and cry until my chest aches with exhaustion, then a delicate breeze blows over me. Feeling like a soft feather on my shoulder. I open my eyes and find my bedroom window open.

  Chapter Five

  After crying for more than an hour, I pick myself up and indulge in a long, hot shower to rid myself of this repulsive behavior. Fine. I’m allowed to grieve over Daimon for a short period of time, but I can’t draw this out. The man killed my father. I can’t indulge in sexual fantasies of the two of us together because, even if he is alive, we will never be together again. If he is alive, the only time I will ever touch him is to break his neck.

  His muscular neck with the smooth skin that tastes so… real. So manly.

  Oh, God. I’m in trouble. And I’m pretty sure Nick is the only person who can help me.

  I try not to cringe as I quickly dress myself in another dress and sandals. I pull my hair up into a ponytail and apply some eye liner and lip balm. Then I sling my camera around my neck and head out the door. Outside, I run into Maria Elena; though she goes by Elena. She’s checking her mailbox on the other side of the street.

  Elena digs her slender arm inside the box and comes out with a small stack of envelopes. She waves at me as I step out onto the street.

  “Hello, Alyssa!” For an older woman, her voice is still quite youthful and melodic. “How are you?”

  “Just fine, thank you.”

  I keep walking toward Nick’s house which is right next door to hers and her gaze follows me. “Are you visiting Nicolas?”

  I almost blurt out that it’s none of her business, but I keep my cool. “Yes, I am.”

  “Oh, very good. Can you please take this to him?” She walks toward me holding out an envelope. “They put it in my mail.”

  I take the envelope from her and she tilts her head as she looks at my skin and my hair. “I can color your hair, if you want. I used to have a salon many years ago, but I still color my own hair.”

  A sharp pain twists inside my belly and I grit my teeth at that familiar feeling of being judged. “No, thank you. I like my hair the way it is.”

  “I’m sorry. I did not mean to say that it is not beautiful the way it is.”

  “It’s okay. I understand. And thank you, but I’m not interested in coloring my hair. I’m…” I pause as I try to figure out what the hell I’m doing. “I’m trying to be myself.”

  I cringe at the irony of telling her I’m trying to be myself when the woman doesn’t even know my real name.

  She flashes me a warm smile. “Your self is beautiful.”

  I chuckle softly. “Thank you.”

  “You should come over for dinner one of these nights. You shouldn’t have to eat alone. My husband and I would love to have you.” She takes a piece of my hair between her fingers and examines it wistfully. “My children have all moved away. My son is in Barcelona and my baby girl is in Belgium studying. She loves it, but I miss them. I can’t really afford to visit them. And they can’t afford to come home.”

  “I will definitely stop by one of these evenings. Thank you for the invitation.”

  She lets go of my hair and her smile tightens as she realizes I’m humoring her. She tucks her mail under her arm and turns around to leave.

  “Wait! Elena.”

  She turns around, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

  I lift the camera from around my neck and hand it to her. “Here. Take this.”

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s a camera. You can use it to take pictures and send them to your kids.”

  “Oh, no. I can’t take that. It looks very expensive.”

  “No, please take it,” I say, pushing the camera toward her. “Please. I ordered a new one and it should be arriving any day now. Please take it.”

  “Are you sure?” I nod vigorously and she carefully takes the camera from my hand. “Thank you.”

  I watch as she heads back to her quaint yellow cottage with the red tile roof. Just one in a thousand other cottages like it on this island. But I’m beginning to realize that each one holds a different story. I think Elena’s might be one of quiet desperation. I still haven’t figured out my story yet.

  I knock on Nick’s door and he answers almost immediately. He looks me up and down then smiles. It’s almost a bashful smile, as if he’s embarrassed for making me sick with his cooking.

  “I’m starving,” I say, holding out my hand. “Can we get some lunch?”

  He reaches for me then pulls his hand back at the last moment. “Hold on. I can’t forget my phone.”

  He disappears inside and comes back a few seconds later, tucking his cell phone in his pocket as he pulls the
front door closed. He turns around and grabs my hand, swiftly bringing it to his lips and planting a soft kiss on my knuckles.

  “I will try not to feel bad that you don’t trust my cooking.”

  “It’s not that I don’t trust it. I’ve just had an upset stomach for a couple of days. Just getting use to the island and all.”

  He casts a suspicious sideways glance in my direction. “I’ll pretend to believe that.” He begins walking faster until we’re jogging. “Come on. The restaurant I want to take you to is always busy for lunch. We have to hurry if we want to get a table.”

  I laugh as he pulls me to the left at the crossroad and we jog up the incline to a small restaurant with a patio overlooking the harbor. He seems a bit out of breath when we get there, but I could probably go up and down that hill a half dozen times before I’d show signs of fatigue. If Daimon comes back, Nick will be no match for him.

  Nick speaks to the waitress, who seems reluctant to seat us. He seems to be laying on the charm pretty thick, though I don’t understand a word they’re saying. Finally, her shoulders slump and she nods as she grabs a couple of menus and takes us through the restaurant to the patio.

  “What did you have to tell her?” I whisper as she leads us to a perfect location in the corner of the patio where the view is spectacular. From here, we can see the waves crashing against the black ocean rocks below.

  “I told her you were dying of cancer and this is your last wish. And…”

  “And what?”

  He waits until the hostess is gone, then he chuckles. “I told her you are the daughter of a famous Spanish actor. She believed it.”

  I swallow hard when I think of the words Daimon said to me last week: You are a princess, Alex! It’s time you start acting like one….

  “I’m sorry. Did I upset you?”

  I look up and Nick looks worried. “No, no. I’m just thinking about home. Sometimes I get a little homesick.”

  Homesick isn’t exactly the word for what I’m feeling. More like just plain sick of feeling haunted. Sick of feeling anything at all for Daimon.

  Nick stares at me through squinted eyes for a moment, as if he’s hatching a plan. “I think I can help you with that.”

  “How? I can’t go home — I mean, I can’t go home yet. My rent is paid through the month. I need to try to find some inspiration while I’m here.”

  He smiles and I get a fluttering in my belly. “I think I can help you feel less homesick and help you feel more inspired, at the same time. But I’ll have to tell you about it later. I have to talk to—” His cell phone rings and he’s almost frantic as he slides it out of his pocket and checks the screen. “I have to take this. I’ll be just a minute.” He practically leaps out of his chair and answers the phone just as he enters the interior dining area.

  That was odd.

  The waiter comes by and asks me a question in Spanish, but I ignore him as I rise from the table and head inside to follow Nick. I see him just as he disappears into a corridor marked with a restroom sign. I hurry over, but I don’t enter. I stand off to the side and attempt to listen in, but all I hear is Nick whispering urgently in Spanish.

  A woman wearing a straw sunhat looks at me curiously from a few tables away. I must look strange, a half-albino trying to eavesdrop on her date’s conversation. I smile at the woman then I flip her the bird and she looks stunned.

  “Al—Alyssa?”

  Shit.

  I turn to my right and Nick has one eyebrow cocked as he waits for me to explain what I’m doing here.

  I smile and flip the woman off one more time for good measure. “Sorry, I didn’t see you. I was coming to use the restroom and this rude woman was staring at me because I look different. Excuse me.”

  I push past him and head for the ladies’ restroom. Once inside, I take a deep breath of stale bathroom air and head for a stall. I force myself to piss then I head back to the patio.

  Nick looks a bit serious as I take a seat across from him. “I ordered you a glass of wine.”

  “Thank you,” I say, trying to squash the paranoia telling me not to drink it.

  We sit in silence for a moment, just watching the waves as they crash against the rocks repeatedly. Finally, the waiter returns to take our order and Nick translates the specials for me. But when none of them sound interesting, he orders something he’s certain I’ll enjoy then sends the waiter on his way.

  “You haven’t touched your wine.”

  “I’m just still feeling a little queasy.”

  “Queasy?”

  “Queasy means sick, to my stomach.”

  “Oh.”

  He nods and turns back toward the ocean view. He doesn’t believe me. And why should he. He just caught me spying on him.

  “Nick?”

  He turns to me and raises his eyebrows.

  “There’s something I have to tell you. I … I left the U.S. to get away from some things … someone. I thought he was—”

  “You don’t have to explain.”

  “No, I want to explain. I want you to know why I did that.” I nod toward the dining area inside the restaurant. “I was burned … badly. In the worst way imaginable. And I’m … I’m scared.”

  “It’s okay. You—”

  “I feel like I don’t know what the truth is anymore,” I continue, not wanting to stop while I’m on a roll. “I used to have a routine. I knew how every day would go from the time I woke up until I lay down to sleep, but now I don’t know anything. I don’t know who to trust. I don’t know if I’ll ever trust anyone again.” I grab his hand and look him in the eye. “But I want to. I want to let go of the past. I want to trust… someone.”

  He leans forward in his chair and lays his hand over mine. “I just want you to give me a chance.” He reaches up and cradles one side of my face in his large hand. “Can you give me a chance to show you that I’m not like this person who hurt you?”

  A surge of emotion overcomes me and I blink repeatedly to stop the tears from spilling over. The waiter arrives with our food, providing me with a bit of cover to dab the corners of my eyes with my napkin. Once the waiter’s gone, I flash Nick a huge smile.

  “Let’s hurry up. I want to take you back to my place and show you something.”

  ***

  We arrive at my cottage, our hunger sated with outrageously succulent seafood. Our thirst slaked with equally phenomenal wine. I feel much better than I did last night after those sangritos. In fact, as I close the front door behind me and follow Nick into the living room, admiring his backside view, I’m feeling positively fabulous.

  He turns around where the living room and kitchen meet. “This home has a very warm feeling. Is it just me?”

  “No, it’s not just you. It’s the air conditioner. It doesn’t work.” I chuckle as I head for the living room window to open it. “This house is 114 years old. Sometimes the water heater doesn’t even work and I have to take a cold shower.” I unlatch the lock on the window and slide it open. “But at least it has new storm doors and windows.”

  I flinch as Nick sneaks up behind me and slides his hands over my hips, moving forward until they rest on my abdomen. I can smell his soft cologne as he nuzzles his face in the crook of my neck.

  “I’ve been wanting to touch you ever since I woke up with you in my bed this morning.” I close my eyes, trying to ignore that familiar pulsating sensation between my legs as he takes my earlobe between his teeth and gently scrapes them over my skin. “But you left in such a hurry.”

  A stiff breeze sweeps through the window, lifting the hairs around my nape and carrying with it that familiar scent I’ve come to associate with Daimon. His smell must be embedded in this dress from being inside my closet. I glance down and notice my nipples have hardened beneath the thin fabric of my dress.

  Though the breeze is cool, my body is warm and receptive from the wine. I want to have sex with Nick. Not just to forget Daimon. I need to feel wanted. I need to be touched by someone ot
her than myself.

  I turn around in Nick’s arms and press my sensitive nipples into his chest. “Take your clothes off.”

  He smiles at my order, but he quickly removes his T-shirt. “Your turn.”

  I peel off my dress and toss it behind him. He coils his arms around my waist and lifts me slightly so he can kiss my burgeoning breasts. His lips on my skin is driving me crazy. I wrap my arms around his neck and lift myself off the ground to wrap my legs around his hips. He kisses me hungrily, our mouths tangled in a wild dance as he carries me toward my bedroom.

  “I want to make love to you, Alyssa.”

  I can’t stand the sound of my fake name coming out of his mouth at a moment like this, so I kiss him hard, but he quickly pulls away. He sets me down on the floor next to my bed and grabs my face to force me to look at him

  “Do you hear me. I want to make love to you. I don’t want to have sex with you.” He gazes into my eyes for a while and I feel the moment growing bigger than just the two of us. “I want you to trust me. I can’t do this if you don’t trust me. I … I adore you. Te adoro.”

  It takes me a moment to realize I’m not breathing. After a few deep breaths, I wrap my arms around his neck and rest my head on his shoulder so I don’t have to look him in the eye when I say, “I trust you.”

  He kisses the top of my head and moves down, his lips whispering over the curve of my shoulder. I turn my face into his neck and lick his skin, not surprised to find he tastes salty from our day outside in the ocean air. I close my lips around his flesh, scraping my teeth over his skin and pleased to find his cock hardening under his jeans. I slide my hands down and quickly undo his belt and pants, then I push them down hastily.

  He chuckles at my urgency as I continue pushing down his blue boxer briefs. “Are you in a hurry, cariño?”

  The room is darkening more and more with each passing moment. We need to do this quickly before it gets dark. I don’t want my first time with Nick to be bogged down by memories of Daimon.

  “Yes, I’m in a hurry.” I grab his hard length in my right hand and clasp my left hand around the back of his neck to kiss him, but he pulls back. “I have to go to Maria Elena’s for dinner,” I lie. “She invited me this afternoon before we went to lunch.”