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He's here with me. In my home. I don't remember inviting him here, to my sacred place. I've been numb ever since I saw him standing on the beach. Nothing I do or say can be comprehended by my clouded brain. I feel as if I'm on some sort of autopilot that I cannot escape from.

He's lounging on my couch, his heavy feet propped on my fragile glass table. The urge to tell him off is strong. It's on the tip of my tongue, but it won't slide off into the open. I'm not sure what is wrong with me. I feel weak and depleted. No fight in me left.

He flicks through the channels quickly, not letting it sit on one channel for even the briefest moment. A deep scowl is planted on his face, marring what I once thought was perfection.

Disgust bubbles up inside me, wanting to spill out.

I want to ask him to leave, but he may be my escape out from the messy werewolf world I seem to have gotten myself into.

I want out and I hope he can be my key.

I'm not sure how long I'm standing by the window staring outside. The deep snow that once graced the ground has dissipated slightly. A light dusting covers the ground but not enough to cause any trouble. I remember faintly, him telling me that he had never seen snow before.

He'd get sick of it sooner than later.

I know I did.

I heard him get up from the couch, rising up. He was watching me closely, wondering what was wrong with me. Ever since we had left the lavish hotel, he'd been cautious with me.

Wary.

I couldn't blame him though. Lately, I had been temperamental and unstable towards him. It wasn't intentional, it just happened. I wanted to apologize for my attitude but whenever I go to do it, I seemed to freeze up and sputter out like an old motor.

I had never been an explosive person but something inside of me was pissed and he just happened to be the only person that I could let it out on.

Honestly, he was taking it surprisingly well. He would let me get out what I needed to say without interrupting. He would then give me a few words of input, give me a hug and a kiss and leave me to stew in my intense anger.

Seeing him not get angry, infuriated me to no end. I wanted him to get angry at me. To yell, scream, anything.

But he'd do nothing.

"Eva." His voice calls out to me. It's soft and cautious. He's not sure what type of mood I'm in and doesn't want to disturb the beast that lies inside of me. I don't want him to be afraid of me but it seems it's a little too late to fix that.

Hell. I'd be afraid of me if I was him.

I don't turn around to face him when he speaks my name. I don't want to see his face anymore. Just thinking about it makes my stomach roll in disgust.

He tries again. "Eva." His voice is driving me crazy. His presence is no longer what I want. It's making me physically sick, my insides churning.

He's getting closer now. I can almost feel his body on mine. If he touches me, I'm not sure what I will do. I hope he won't.

The churning in my stomach is worse now. It wants to empty out what I've fed it.

If I open my mouth now, I know what will happen. I won't be able to stop it and for some reason I don't want to. Maybe this is what I need to cleanse my body from the buildup of stress over the last few weeks.

His hand touches my waist softly, silently urging me to turn towards him.

I can't take it anymore.

I turn towards him and my stomach takes that as a cue to lurch forward violently.

Everything seems as if it's happening in slow motion.

I feel myself hunch over, my hands on my knees as I empty out the breakfast he had made for me that morning. I watch in silent horror as it covers his obsidian black boots.

I feel as if this is a bad dream, gripping me in my sleep. But this is real.

So real.

Time returns as normal as my body continues to lurch, trying to expel something that is not there.

He still hasn't moved, his feel rooted to the spot. I don't want to his his face but if I did, I'm sure it would be pure shock.

I can hear the television so I know time is not frozen. He's still not moving as though it actually was frozen.

I can't move from the spot either. My body gripped in both uncertainty and shock.

It feels like forever before he makes the first move. His strong arms take me up into his broad chest. He's carrying me bridal style, not caring that I was partly covered in my own vomit.

I don't want him to carry me though. His touch seems to burn it's way through my skin, scorching me from the inside out.

He carries me to my bedroom, laying me down. He hovers over my body for a moment, allowing me to get a good look at his face briefly. He doesn't seem angry in any way. He just seems confused by the way his eyebrows are furrowed together.

He turns and leaves, heading towards the bathroom. I can hear the water running for a moment before it is shut off. His heavy steps signal his return as my eyes move to the rag he holds in his hand. He leans over me and begins to wipe the offending bile from my face. He's gentle with it, being careful not to jostle me too much.

I want to flinch away from him but I refrain. My body doesn't want to do anything so I let him continue on.

He takes his time, being sure not to miss anything on me . He gives me a once over, satisfied with his work.

He takes that moment to finally speak up. "Are you ill?" His face is still contorted in confusion.

I don't have the strength to answer him back with my voice so I resort to using head gestures. I shake my head side to side, letting him know that I wasn't. His eyebrow quirks up in suspicion.

"Then what was that about Eva? Obviously something is going on with you." I can see his vein throbbing under his forehead. He moves his hand to sooth it briefly before rubbing his hand down his face.

My voice makes a sudden return but it's low and flat. "Nothing is going on with me. I'm fine."

He's not convinced. I see it in his eyes. But I don't make a move to try and smother my lie.

He backs away from the bed, keeping his eyes trained on me. His eyes are calculating, judging.

I was trying to look anywhere but him, so that he wouldn't see the lie in my eyes. Although I knew it was too late for that. He always knew when I was lying.

Always.

"You're lying." He say slow and cautious. He shakes his head slowly, a pained looked coming over his features. "Why do you feel like you have to lie to me Eva? I thought we had something?"

He looks distraught and I know exactly why. He feels as if our "relationship" is falling apart.

If only he knew that it was never together. I feel bad knowing what I know.

I used him.

I used him to get over him and it was coming back now to bite me in the ass. I think he was genuinely into me.

"We do Liam." I hope he couldn't hear the slight crack in many voice. "I really don't know what is wrong with me. If I did, I would tell you. I really would."

His pained expression didn't ease up at my revelation though and I was a fool for believing that it would. He had dropped his travels for me, to be here with me, in my home.

He could have been anywhere now but no, he was stuck with a girl who had genuinely no feelings for him whatsoever. I was simply playing him to satisfy my constant and selfish need for some kind of human contact.

All because I couldn't have him.

What kind of person had I become? This man was obviously and foolishly in love with me.

But how? I had nothing of good quality to offer him. I had been an awful companion to him over the last couple of weeks. Why was he even still with me? He could have anyone he well pleased.

I had nothing to offer to him anymore.

"Why are you with me Liam?" His footsteps stopped at the doorway across the room. He had been on his way out but I had been so caught up that I had failed to notice. Turning back, his blue eyes pierced mine with an unreadable expression. I suddenly wished that I had the power to read minds. I so wanted to know what was happening in that brain of his.

He stares at me for what seems to be hours but it couldn't have been more than a minute or two. His shoulders raise up in a harmless shrug that I was not expecting.

"I'm not sure Eva...there is just...something about you that makes me stay. If I wanted to leave, I don't know if I could." As he spoke, my eyes watch with dancing curiosity in them as he approaches my bedside again with long strides.

The bed where he and I consummated our attraction for one another. I could never bring myself to do that with Liam in this bed.

It was because his scent lingered.

It was faint...very faint. But if I closed my eyes for a moment, it was like he was right there. I felt as if I would ruin it by him just being in here. Inhaling now, I was sure it was at it's strongest. Maybe I was just insane...

I was craving a man that with my own foolishness, tossed away like a box of stale cereal.

Liam was hovering over me, looking at me with a strange expression on his face. He was close, too close for my liking. He was driving away the scent. I knew it. Looking deep into his warm eyes, I'm not sure if I was reading right into it, but I was sure I could see love in them.

Love as he was looking down at me. How would he look at me if he knew what was happening in my jumbled mind?

He looks at me now as if he had something to say and for some strange reason, I knew what he was going to say. I knew it would be devastating for me, to know that his feelings were real.

He leaned closer to my face and I thought for a moment that he was going to capture my lips into a kiss but he did the opposite.

He just stared.

I could feel his breath splash against my face as his lips parted in anticipation for his incoming words.

"I love you Evathia."

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