Chapter 25 Chapter Twenty-Five - Gabriella
My laugh is cut off as a shudder ripples through my body when the air around us suddenly feels as though it’s filled with static electricity. I know that feeling. Hasn’t taken me long to understand exactly what that feeling is and where it’s coming from. I drop my arms, placing my weight back on my feet and doing my best to ignore the pressure that returns to them, as I whip myself around to look for Jartre.
I don’t have to look far. The moment I turn around, standing just three feet in front of me is the 7’9 God himself. Instinctively my face breaks into a bright smile, but that smile immediately vanishes when I see the look on his face. His nostrils are flared, his jaw is clenched, and his fists are balled up so tight I can see the white of his knuckles, but that’s not what has me gulping. It’s the haunted – almost pained – look in his eyes, that has my heart feeling like it’s been clenched too tight.
I take a slow step towards him as if attempting to stop a wild animal from fleeing. “Jartre?” I call out gently, certain he can hear me over the music.
His eyes drop down to look at me, their normal bright silver pools now looking through me with a dark hollowness that makes me feel cold.
“Who is he?” he asks in a deep threatening tone that I can hear perfectly over the music.
I frown in confusion and look back at Wyatt who is standing behind me looking a mix of shocked and worried. I look back Jartre. “Him?” I ask, pointing my thumb back at Wyatt.
“Who the fuck else would I mean?” he spits at me.
I narrow my eyes at him, “You better watch your fucking tone,” I snap back. Oh, hell no. He is not playing the possessive boyfriend. I do not tolerate that shit. Especially not with Wyatt or Derrick on the receiving ends.
Surprise flashes across his face at the tone in my voice, as if snapping him out of a trance, only for it to quickly vanish and turn deadly. For once I’m starting to feel just a little scared of him.
He takes a slow, but imposing step towards me. “Answer my fucking question. Who is the guy who dares to fucking want what’s mine?”
Okay, so I legitimately was feeling scared a second ago, and I don’t know if it’s the fact I am way too accustomed to drama or it’s from hearing the words he actually said, but instead of being scared or snapping at him for coming off like an asshole, I burst out laughing. Probably not the right response, but we’ll just blame some loose wiring in my brain.
“Did you just say the words ‘wanting what’s mine’?” I chortle, which only seems to make him angrier. But again it’s the look in his eyes that stops my laughs. The hurt in his eyes is enough to make me realise this isn’t funny. He’s acting angry, but he’s actually really hurting right now. I sigh and step towards him, “Jartre, read his mind.”
Slowly his brows dip into a hard V, as he stares me down looking perplexed. He assesses me carefully before looking behind me at Wyatt. After a second, recognition and just a little flicker of shame, replace his features and his body begins to relax.
“Oh,” he mutters.
I take his hands in mine, relieved to feel the heat of their touch again. “Wyatt is Derrick’s boyfriend, and they are both very gay. We were just dancing, and he was helping me with my feet. I’m not the kind of woman who flirts with other guys when I’m spoken for,” I say pointedly.
He winces at my words, but his thumbs move rhythmically across the back of my hands. “I’m sorry, I just… never mind.”
Normally I would introduce Wyatt to Jartre, but I think I need to handle this before the two of them have an official introduction.
I look back at Wyatt, “Look, I need to go and talk with Jartre. Can you let Derrick know I’m sorry I’m going to miss his performance?”
Wyatt turns his attention off Jartre to look at me with deep concern, “You’re leaving with him?”
“We need to have a talk. Will you pass on my message?”
“Ella I’m not sure…” he says with worry in his voice.
“I’m fine,” I say with a reassuring smile, “I promise.”
He takes a moment before slowly nodding, “Call us if you need anything, no matter what,” he says with an urgent warning.
“You’re sweet,” I say, rubbing his arm and turning my attention back to Jartre. “I think we need to have a talk.”
He sighs and nods, “Very well.”
“Maybe we can go back to your place this time?” I suggest.
He blinks at me in surprise, “My place?”
“Do you have a place? Or do you just reside on some cloud atop Mount Olympus?” I say playfully.
He rolls his eyes. “There’s no such thing.”
I shrug. “One can never be too sure when dealing with a God, now let’s go,” I command, taking his hand and dragging him to the back exit. I know I can’t actually drag him, but it’s a nice feeling to know he’s letting me. Makes me feel like part of him does at least trust me.
I should be excited about getting to see his place for the first time, but first, we need to address what the fuck just happened because if possessive jealous behaviour is part of his norm, we’re going to need to nip this in the bud immediately.