For the Love of Layla

by Callie Moss

My skin will be the last to touch hers, even if it blows apart every plan I’ve put in place.

“She liked your voice.” I suppose I should feel nervous. I’m downright giddy. The thought of getting an object of her affection out of the way forces fire and adrenaline through my veins.

“Haven’t you heard smoking kills, James? She hates cigarettes anyway, something about her dad I think, but I haven’t confirmed it yet.”

He doesn’t fight much, “You couldn’t keep her safe.” He doesn’t argue the point. I’d imagine severing his vocal cords have a thing or two to do with that. I jerk the blade back again, this time plunging it deep into his throat. Squelch. Such a cute sound, just like her.

To be honest, I’m one spilled glass of milk away from a fucking breakdown. I can feel the tendrils of anxiety poking at my fractured resolve. Last thing I want tonight is a pair of grippy socks.

Each second sitting in silence makes my chest tighten uncomfortably. It’s moments like this that I miss him the most. His confidence, the way he simply existed, always made me feel so…safe. So cared for.

Unknown: You looked beautiful tonight. Sorry you had to see that. Some lessons are best learned the hard way baby.

I stop at an overstuffed kitchen drawer, jerking it open and frowning at the pill bottle inside. I hate that I need this. I hate that I can’t live without it. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth that has little to do with the pill. I pop one in my mouth,

“I think there’s something wrong with me.” I admit. I think I’ve kind of always known, but recently these feelings I get…they aren’t normal. Sometimes I scare myself. This feels like as good a time as any to admit that. He frowns, as if he’s considering what I’m saying. “I mean yeah, you’ve cracked your head open, dude.” Idiot. “It doesn’t hurt. Maybe I’m dying.”

“Can you at least wait until they release Final Fantasy XI next month? I won’t have anyone to play with.” Yeah, I guess I can. I don’t say it out loud, at least I don’t think so.

I was bred for it. Bred to dawn whatever face suits the situation best. Whatever the person I want something from will react to. Manipulative? Certainly. Also, incredibly effective. I learned from the best. All my combined faces could never go up against one of Mother’s. I’ve always had this other side to me, the face I wear when I’m alone. I get…caught up in things. Mother always said I was an excitable child. Whatever the fuck that means, she wasn’t wrong.

The day I first laid eyes on Layla Rea Burke; my mask cracked. My control slipped. Suddenly it all meant less, my company, status, etc. Proving a point to the silver spoon fed family I came from, all I could see is her. All I could think of was her. In an instant she wiped all other touches from my skin, goals and morality from my mind. She became my anchor, the thing I could focus on to keep me level. Except I didn’t stay… level. She drew out all that obsessive intensity I had suppressed. She slipped off my mask that day, laid me bare. Something about her was so raw and delicate. Her scars and insecurities were so fucking beautiful to me.

The fact that I don’t know every single crevasse of her mind like I know her exquisite body irritates me more than it should. I suppose I could’ve spent more time really digging into what made her tick instead of burying my cock in her twenty-four seven, but Layla feels like an angel dripped in fucking sin. Feeling her clench and come apart on my dick was the closest I’ve ever been to heaven. She was content there too, always so willing to push herself. Test her limits, so eager to please me. Such a good girl.

All of this is necessary to bring my little star back to me. I knew she was upset after what I did back then. I had no clue she would… leave me. That has been the worst day of my life by far and wide. She stood there in front of me, dry eyed and told me to go. Told me she was done with me. You’ll never be done with me, Layla…

I couldn’t react. My heart was shattering. What could I possibly say? What could I possibly do? The hole she bore through my chest is still raw and bleeding. A wound only Layla can balm. It was a mistake what she did, a hiccup. Nothing more. She didn’t mean it, I know that. Still, it was everything I had not to cross the kitchen and snap her fucking neck, or fuck some goddamn sense into her. I should’ve said something. I couldn’t make the appropriate words come out. Couldn’t make any words come out. I was…scared. It felt like that day all over again. She abandoned me when she knew how much I fucking needed her. So, I just stood there like an asshole and watched her rip out my heart and stomp it into the dirt like a spent cigarette.

It’s been two fucking hours since I’ve checked in on my little star. God knows what she could be doing, who she could be talking to at work.

“Mr. Curran, clinging to a failing magazine to appease your fiancée is hardly a decent-” I stand abruptly, sending the rolling chair I had been sitting in swooshing backwards. I fight the smile that threatens my face at his words. Calling my sweet Layla my fiancée, she hasn’t agreed yet, but I couldn’t help it when I announced our engagement.

“The next time you feel the need to bring my personal life or my fiancée-” God, I love the way that sounds.

The lyrics of our song playing through my head. I know you belong To somebody Somebody new. But tonight. You belong to me.

“It’s exactly your fault that you wouldn’t let me borrow yours.” “Or you could just walk out to your car and get yours.” “It’s raining.” “You’ll live.” “Crusty bitch.” He mumbles as he rolls back to his desk. I stand smiling to myself.

My ratcheting anxiety determined to make Xanax look like a little bitch.

I can feel his stare before I look up. My core heating at the prospect of having his full attention, I feel it as sure as the heat pressing into my palm. It’s all-encompassing, damming and fuck me, I’ve missed it. I peek up from under my lashes as I approach them, his intense blue eyes trained on me. Looking at me the way he always has, as if nothing changed. My cheeks flush bright red as his lips pull up into a smirk. “Hello, Layla.”

The copper haired God was the last thing on my mind until I heard his voice, his self-assured footsteps quickly approaching me. I can’t. I can’t deal with you and this right now it wasn’t a coincidence. It wasn’t…it wasn’t. God, I can’t fucking breathe.

“Little star.” He breathes out, grabbing my face in his hands. My heart lurches from my chest. “Take a deep breath with me.” I do. In, hold, out. “Good job, another.” In, hold, out. “Another.” In, hold, out. “Everything is okay. You’re in control. You’re safe.”

“You did good for me, little star.” His lips graze mine as wetness pools between my legs only adding to the general chaos inside me. No. I jerk away from him, walking out into the garage. Looking anywhere but him. Months of zero contact, then he shows up and helps talk me through a panic attack. How fucking humiliating.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of, Layla, not with me.” I meet his eyes. There’s so much there. Things I don’t want to see. All the emotion he didn’t show that day, it’s there. Pain, longing…love and something else, something strange. “We know each other too well for that.” No, we don’t.

Just like that, he’s slipped back into old Liam. Controlling, obsessive Liam. God help me and this warm feeling in my gut.

“I care about you, Layla, and I don’t give a fuck if you want to hear that or not. I will make sure you’re okay and you’ll put up with it or I’ll-” He cuts himself off, taking a deep breath. Biting down on my lip, his words catch me off guard, but not nearly as much as his voice. The raw malice in it. My sex throbs as my chest tightens. My mind waving the proverbial red flag while my body threatens to melt into him all together.

“You should’ve called me, Layla. You must’ve been so scared.” I scoff, “I should’ve called my irrational short-tempered ex to tell him I think someone is stalking me and that they killed the guy I was trying to hook up with? Yeah, that’s a brilliant idea.” I watch his jaw clench as if to prove my point.

That’s what I am now. A walking, talking ball of anxiety and dread. Fun. Fun for me.

“You know I don’t mind paying for it. You won’t owe me a thing. I want to keep you safe.” My lip trembles, “No, thank you.” “It doesn’t have to be like this, Layla.” His coppery eyebrows knit together, somehow making him even more handsome. His freckles and tossed hair make him look deceptively boyish, but he’s not. Liam Curran is all man. Where was all of this when it mattered? I tear my arms out of his grasp, his fingers leaving red indents in their wake. “Yes, it does.” I turn again, walking quicker as my chest aches. Fuck you, Liam. Fuck. You. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you feel nothing for me.” His voice takes on a hint of desperation and makes the dull ache in my chest grow until it’s a large gnawing wound. The kind that could kill you.

“I feel absolutely nothing for you, Liam Curran. I don’t think I ever really did.” His eyes widen slightly, I can tell my words hurt him. Good. He hurt me. He scared me and tore my heart out of my fucking chest. I needed him to fight for me, to show me I had nothing to be afraid of and he just… stared. Like right now, his cruel gaze raises goosebumps to my flesh as my phone rings again.

“To unravel you sweet, sweet, Layla.” “Did you do it? Did you kill him?” I ask, barely above a whisper. My hands shaking as my palms sweat, feeling slick and clammy against my phone. He laughs, sending chills down my spine. It sounds wrong and unnatural, “You liked his voice. So, I took it from you.”

My eyes wander when I see the tears falling down her pink cheeks, “It would be the greatest honor to be your mommy, Master Liam.” I beam up at her, fighting a giggle. She laughs. The warm sound makes my chest feel funny, “Don’t you be poking fun again.” She scolds me playfully, flicking water in my face. “It’s not my fault your voice sounds goofy.” “It’s called an accent,

Now there’s an idea. We can consider this payback for how our last meeting went, little star. I rub my chest absent-mindedly as it tightens, as if the action will release some of the tension and pain nested inside my chest cavity. I feel absolutely nothing for you, Liam Curran. I don’t think I ever really did. Those are the words she said to me. I had no clue words could hurt so badly. They have no substance, yet they cut more effectively than the world’s sharpest blades. All I’ve ever done is love you, love you better than anyone else ever could. Yet you insist on making things difficult for us.

These past four days have been hell. Calling, emailing, texting constantly. Waiting outside our home like a fucking peeping Tom, desperate for a glimpse. Being ignored by her is enough to drive anyone to extremes. I even played our song through her Bluetooth speaker a few times. She threw it out the front door where it still resides busted in the gravel drive. Stubborn fucking woman. She groans softly, pulling the covers up around her delicate face. So fucking adorable. Too bad you’re such a fucking brat.

he heaves me over his shoulder carrying me back into the bedroom, my head only barely missing the door frame as he quickly covers it with his hand. A simple, thoughtful gesture and my heart is the fullest it’s ever been.

“Be a good girl for me and stay put, okay? Things will be a lot easier that way.” A sob leaves my throat as I push myself up again. There’s something in his deep heavily accented voice that makes me want to listen to him. To obey. “You can never just fucking listen. Such a brat.”

“I just want to be next to you, to keep you safe. Is that such a bad thing?” He whispers as he presses his masked forehead to mine. He slowly grips my wrists in his, jerking them above my head as he pins them there. I gasp as he pushes his hard cock against me. The length feels like a threat. It is a threat. Oh God. “You made me do this, Layla. I didn’t want things to go this way, but you left me no choice. You didn’t answer my calls or texts. What else was I supposed to do?”

He pumps them in and out slowly, rubbing my clit with his palm as arousal seeps out from around his fingers, my body and brain on two dreadfully different wavelengths. More tears fall as he snickers, if you can call a bitter sound like that anything close to laughter, extracting himself to show me my body’s betrayal. “You can deny it all you want, but your body is telling me a different story. It knows it needs me.” The words sound like a prayer from his lips. A vow.

“You taste far too sweet for that.” I suck in a sharp breath, hating how my body reacts to him, hating this, hating him. Hating my stupid body. What kind of fucking person gets off on this? Am I getting off on this?

Something inside me, deep beneath his disgusting hand tightens, something bizarre and wrong. Something that shouldn’t be here. The way he touches me is so frantic, yet tender. This person… is insane, ill. And so are you for reacting this way.

“Don’t be mad at me, baby, I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I…I just can’t stand hearing you talk about anyone else. He could never have taken care of you like I do. Made you feel what I can.” His deep voice comes out desperate as he dips his head, briefly pressing his thick plastic forehead to mine. To my horror, my heart sputters in my chest. Take care of me like you do?

He slightly tilts his head to the side, taking in the blood welling from the wound before bringing the blade up his face. As if it hadn’t occurred to him he could actually cut me. His dark brown eyes meet mine as he smirks, gently running his tongue down the blade, licking it free from my blood. My stomach rolls in protest.

He slips down further, removing his hand from my sex before continuing the painstaking process down my body. Marking me. Bite, suck, lick. “Why are you doing this?” I ask, only half wanting an answer. My body trembling violently beneath him. “If I didn’t mark you, how would everyone know to stay away?’

“Why do you have to make things so fucking difficult for us?” He asks me calmly, as if this is a perfectly normal thing. My stomach churns as I realize for him…it might be.

“You insisted on being a fucking brat. Now take the damn pills or I’ll carve up your pretty face so badly only I’ll be able to love it.” I swallow hard, sobbing as he shoves me away from him, bending and grabbing the bottle before removing three pills himself.

“I’m going to take care of you, Layla. That’s all I want.” I lift my head, staring at the tall dark figure on top of me. Wishing those words meant nothing. That they didn’t make my heart race with something entirely different from fear, although there’s no small amount of that there too.

Just like Liam did. My heart flutters as I try to sit up abruptly, his large hand pushing me back down by my chest. He just stares at me unbothered as I weakly struggle against him. He hums that creepy old song, his voice sounds… different now. Can you tell that from a hum? After I surrender to the heaviness in my limbs, he resumes running his bloody fingers up and down my arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Liam?

She’s mine. She said my name.