You're Mine

Chapter Six- The Change

Almost 50 fans and four comments on the last chapter? Come on, slackers xD

                It was nine when I finally left my room again. I would have stayed in there all night if possible- I was too unsettled to face Abby again. Besides, If I saw her, I’d have to ask her what was wrong with her, and I wasn’t a confrontational person.  But then I got really hungry and was forced to fetch some dinner.

                As soon as I entered the kitchen, I spotted Devon outside talking to Abby.

                A millisecond after my eyes landed on him, he looked directly at me, as if he felt my gaze on his face. My breathing automatically hitched.

                Abby responded to something he said and then walked off the porch and into my backyard, leaving Devon standing alone, staring at me with an emotion in his eyes I couldn’t understand.

                With that look, I lost all sense. The fact that Abby just went more than slightly insane in my room three hours earlier no longer mattered, nor did the fact that she just walked off into the night with a peculiar, determined stride. He was the only thing I could think about. He and all of his frightening perfection.

                Something about his look that moment was different. Different from all the times I remembered him looking at me. It was… passionate.

                I smiled warmly, confidence building in me and walked to him.

                I opened the porch door and motioned for him to come in.

                “It’s cold out here. Come inside, I’ll make you dinner.”

                He looked at me for a moment, examining my face.

                The silence was not awkward. If anything, it made me more confident.

                “I make good pasta,” I assured him.

                Slowly, he nodded.

                He stepped towards me, but didn’t cross through the threshold of my house.

                “I’m not craving food at the moment,” he told me, moving closer.

                A strange feeling shot through me at his words, so quick it was nearly painful.

                “What are you craving?” My voice became significantly softer. I didn’t even realize what I had asked until after it slipped from my mouth.

                His eyes held no uncertainty. His lips curved into a slow, seductive smile. “Your company,” he answered simply.

                He stepped away from me and into the house. The cool air from outside hit me, feeling unpleasantly different from his warmth.

                I regained what little composure I could before closing the door and following him inside.

                He stood by the kitchen stove, leaning against it, keeping his eyes trained on my every movement.

                I glanced at the pull-out drawer under the stove that held all our pots and pans. He was practically barricading it.