Do You Still Love Me When We Meet Again? (Aubrey and Damon) novel Chapter 101

Chapter 101

My fingers brushed against the knife handle. One quick move and I’d

have answers–one way or another.

Fuck it.

I knocked. Three sharp raps that echoed in the silent house like

gunshots.

“It’s open,” Nash’s voice drifted through the door, casual as a summer

breeze, yet somehow laced with something darker, more dangerous.

I plastered on my best innocent–teenager smile and pushed the door

The hinges didn’t squeak–of course Nash would have oiled

them. “Nash! Still in bed?”

open.

He was hunched over the desk, back to me, focused on something I

couldn’t see. Morning light spilled across his broad shoulders,

highlighting the perfect stillness of his posture. He didn’t turn.

“Been up since six,” he replied, his pen still moving across whatever

he was working on. “Unlike some people who appreciate a good sleep-

in.”

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I edged deeper into his room, eyes scanning every surface, every

potential hiding place. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood and

something metallic–gun oil, maybe. The dresser? Too obvious. The

closet? Maybe. Under the mattress? Amateur hour.

My fingers twitched near the knife at my waist. I could have it at his

throat in under a second. One clean movement. He was distracted,

still writing or whatever the hell he was doing. But something felt off

-this was too easy. Nash wouldn’t leave himself vulnerable unless it

was a trap.

“Looking for something?” Nash asked, still not turning.

I froze mid–step. My heart accelerated, adrenaline flooding my

system. This was it. The charade was over. My fingers closed around

the knife handle.

Then Nash shifted, and I caught sight of what he was working on. Not

writing. Drawing.

Drawing me.

The sketch was hauntingly beautiful–my face in perfect detail, illuminated by moonlight, Satan’s Heart gleaming at my throat. I was smiling in the drawing, but it was my real smile, not the fake one I showed the world. The one I’d almost forgotten existed.

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“If you’re looking for Satan’s Heart,” Nash said casually, finally

turning to face me, “the one in this drawing.”

I released the knife but kept my hand near it. “You know what it’s

called?”

“Of course.” Nash’s lips curved into a smile that didn’t quite reach his

eyes. “It suits you. Mysterious. Dangerous.” His gaze locked with

mine, intense enough to burn. “Captivating.”

I tensed, waiting for him to make a move, to reveal his true

intentions. Instead, he stood slowly, offering me the sketch with one

hand while the other reached into his pocket.

My muscles coiled, ready to strike.

“By the way,” he added, pulling something from his pocket that

caught the light, “you left this in my car yesterday.”

Between his fingers dangled Satan’s Heart, its obsidian surface

catching the morning light, throwing crimson reflections across the

walls.

“I meant to return it sooner, but didn’t get the chance.”

He stepped behind me before I could react, his movements fluid and

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Chapter 101

confident. I felt the cool metal of the chain against my skin as he

fastened the clasp at the nape of my neck, his fingertips barely

grazing my skin. Each light touch sent unwelcome electricity down

my spine.

My hand closed around his wrist in a vise grip, stopping him cold.

“Fuck you,” I hissed, spinning to face him. “You didn’t come here for

this?”

Nash stared down at me, his expression unreadable. The silence

stretched between us, electric and dangerous. I could hear my own

heartbeat, feel the heat radiating from his body.

“I came here,” he said finally, his voice dropping to a whisper that

somehow filled the entire room, the words falling between us like

stones into still water, “only for you.”

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