#*aaron: genevieve lee 001*

[thearcherbrothersx]

Closed starter for @mossofteeth / Aaron & Genevieve

It had been a busy week, and a successful one at that. Not a lot of people would celebrate getting a murdering slumlord off scot-free, but Aaron was one of them. The whole firm was, really. The guy had put them on a pretty hefty retainer after his success, and Aaron had used that to cement his standing in the firm. That partner offer was right around the corner; he could feel it.

So they'd gone out to celebrate at the first ridiculously expensive restaurant they could find. Some of the others had invited wives and girlfriends along, and the evening had taken on a life of its own. All the while, Aaron personally preferred to blend in seamlessly, more or less quietly watching the evening unfurl. He was engaged loosely in conversation with a few of the other senior associates and their wives when something unexpected drew his attention. It was an instinct more so than anything he actually saw at first, but it pulled him from the conversation and made him look around.

The glass of red wine he'd been nursing still in his hand paused on the way to his lips when his eyes finally found what they'd unknowingly been searching for. They widened a fraction - and then narrowed. She'd just walked in - on the arm of one of the juniors who'd been invited to join the celebrations after dinner, and Aaron's mind stretched like a rubber band before snapping, focused on one overwhelmingly simple word: mine.

It took him all of one second to put his pleasant mask back in place, and he lifted a hand slightly to invite Gen and her date over, a casual smile on his face, attention focused on the male at her side as though she was any other two-bit girlfriend on the arm of a random colleague.

[thearcherbrothersx]

Aaron all but growled when she moaned, the sound so sweet and familiar, it only reminded him of everything she'd walked away from when she'd left him. Everything they were to each other; what she was to him, and that she'd taken something from him when she left. How she'd left. The image of her engagement ring left on his nightstand just yesterday, fresh and painful, filled his head - and it only made him angrier.

So her begging only made him pull his fingers out of her and deliver a hard slap to her ass. Then he violently yanked down her ruined stockings and delivered another to her bare skin, and a third. "Louder, bitch," he sneered at her, "like you fucking mean it. C'mon, let everyone hear what a dirty fucking slut you are for me." His hand landed on her stinging ass cheek again. Without pause, he shoved his fingers back inside her, curling them slightly to hit the soft, uneven patch of flesh that hid her g-spot, and began moving them again. "I said LOUDER!" he insisted again, the pace of his fingers inside her downright vicious and definitely merciless.

As he licked up her tears Avery whimpered in submission. Her submission to him was exactly why she had run in the first place. She wanted to say something, she wanted to apologize more and tell him how miserable she had been without him but before she could even formulate a sentence, he had spun her around and slammed her against the door.

A grunt was forced out of her at the impact, her soft body aching for his touch from the moment he'd grabbed her wrist and though it came violently she still found herself deriving some sick sort of pleasure from his aggression. Pressed against the door her back arched instinctively to allow his hand more room to travel up her thigh. "God...yes..." She moaned as he shoved his fingers inside her, her eyes closed as she reveled in the sensations caused by him returning to her. Every night since she had left him she had dreamt about this moment right here and now that the moment had finally come Avery couldn't help but moan out loudly with pleasure not even giving a second thought to the fact that most likely she could be heard by anyone passing by. In her desperation she hadn't even thought twice about begging him. "Please... please fuck me mi alma... I need you...."

[thearcherbrothersx]

When her satisfied little smirk morphed into bared teeth and a glare that - had she possessed that particular ability - would have flaming igniting all over his body, Aaron sneered down at her in smug satisfaction, flashing fangs in the process. She was pushing him, he knew she was pushing him, teasing, prodding, provoking, trying to get a rise out of him. As though the fact that he'd followed her into a bathroom and now had her pinned against the wall wasn't enough for her.

Had she only succumbed and said his name, at this point Aaron knew he'd already have been balls deep inside the little she-devil, but she didn't. So he held back, forced to tease her, to hold out on both of them, dead set on making her say it, and he didn't lose. He never lost a battle, and he certainly wouldn't lose this one. He didn't care what it took.

Tongue wet his lips as he watched her own teeth shift in front of him, the scent of fresh blood once more filling the air, so much so that he could almost taste it on his tongue. And then - a moment later, he really could, a mixture of spit and blood joining his own dried blood on his cheek.

For a moment - a split second, really - that felt like minutes, Aaron was deadly still. Like a statue. Only the tightening of his fingers around her wrists gave any indication that he was still alive. Then she spoke, the suicidal little minx, and red began to bleed into the abyss of his eyes. Not fire like before, but blood; thick, crimson liquid seeping through the cracks of his human demeanour as his lips curled into a sneer.

It was all the warning she got before he shifted. Like a shadow, he tore her off the door and then turned, tossing her away from him and into the sinks to the left. She hit them hard, the force of his throw a testament to his supernatural strength. "Stupid, stupid, stupid..." he chanted viciously, and landed a kick to her abdomen, the force sending her back against the wall, into broken shards of ceramic sink. He lifted a hand, fingers curling into a fist as the metal of the pipes behind her groaned and sealed, preventing any water from escaping despite the damage done. "This what you wanted, huh?" He glared down at her. She should have known better - she really should have. Another kick to her abdomen. "Say," another kick, "my", another, "fucking," another, "NAME!" The last word was roared at her, the power in his voice reverberating through the walls, very much like the beast inside - pulled straight from hell.

The violent passion with which he kissed her was second to none. It was a kiss of ancient longing, all-consuming, like he wanted to eat her up, bones and all. She answered with parted lips and a guttural moan, allowing the brutal marriage of lips, tongue, and teeth to send her in a tailspin of pain, pleasure, and lust. She growled in frustration into his mouth, wanting nothing worse than to thread her fingers through his hair, down his neck and chest, to undo his pants and wrap her hand around his stiff cock— the image of his cum on her face was vivid in her mind, sending a rush of wetness between her legs.

She forced that particular image of submission from her mind right before he pulled away to glare down at her. She met his gaze with a mischievous brightness in her eyes, lips twisting into a wide, crooked grin as her only reply. The growl that left Aaron’s lips was a wash of warmth that settled into her frozen bones. The sound would have frightened anyone else, and rightfully so— but to her, it was a cue that he was almost to where she wanted him, toeing that blurred line between danger and desire. She grunted as he pinned her hips, humming in response to his words and taking her bottom lip in between her teeth. There was a sliver of hope that coursed through her as his hold on her hands loosened and she pushed against him, ready to touch and scratch and stroke him until he forced himself inside of her— but it was fleeting. Her hands slammed against the door again and she fought against him in frustration, her twisted smile from before now replaced with bared teeth and a dark glare of her own.

The dark, thorn covered tendrils that had weaved themselves through her soul were no longer shriveled and fragile sticks, but thick, powerful, and all-consuming— alive and just as much a part of her as her bones and skin. The deep brown of her eyes had gone, leaving rings of glowing golden light in their place. He commanded her again, the snarl in his voice triggering a shift in her gums. She smiled despite the blinding pain as the roots of her teeth dug themselves deeper into her gums and her flat human teeth shifted to make room for the set of razor-sharp fangs to burst through the tender skin. The taste of dirty pennies coated her mouth as blood dripped from her gums and down her lips, the only sound of her discomfort being a muffled cry that lowered into a moan as he rubbed himself against her. She could have let herself succumb to the pleasure, said his name a million times over already, but she was always keen to dance as close to the edge as she could get. Before she could take another breath, she spit at his face, smirking as her blood spattered against his skin. “Funny, I thought you’d rather hear me screamin’ it while I was cummin’ on your cock. My mistake, darlin’.”

[thearcherbrothersx]

"Efficient demon," he corrected her, the timbre of his voice a low rumble, like the beast inside him had been drawn out to meet hers - punctuated heavily by the kiss he now took from her, teeth clashing, tongues warring, heavy grunts against hungry lips as he all but devoured her taste. It didn't matter that they'd been apart, didn't matter that she'd filled the void with someone else. Not in this moment. Because in this moment it was like no time had passed at all, like she'd always been his and their time apart had been a blip, a tiny flash of something insignificant. In fact, you might almost be convinced Aaron had forgotten all about the poor unsuspecting human she'd brought to the restaurant tonight.

The little she-devil rubbed herself against him wantonly, and Aaron's answering growl was downright feral as he tore his lips from hers long enough to glare down at her, lust warring with lingering rage in his dark gaze. He shot his hips forward, locking her hips in place. Lips parted, he traced the jagged outline of his sharp canines, vicious playfulness at the edge of his gaze as she spoke - taunting him. "I can smell it," he replied and for a brief moment, he loosened his hold on her wrists, letting her think he might let go - then he tightened, slamming her hands against the door with renewed force, making her bones groan beneath his fingers.

A low animalistic rumble grew in the back of his throat, his free hand lifting to meet the soft tendrils of hair he knew so well, letting the curls wrap themselves around his hand as he stared darkly down at Gen. "Say my fucking name, Genevieve," he then insisted again, voice a rough snarl. His hips shifted to rub the bulge in his pants right against her centre, giving her friction exactly where she needed it most.

The magic in Aaron’s blood threaded itself with her own magic that coursed through her veins. For the first time in fifty years, the burden of her very existence and the consequences of that lifted its crushing weight from her shoulders in such a way that the effect was just as much physical as mental. She sucked in a deep breath, like she was tasting air for the first time, her body so light that she wondered why she wasn’t floating. It was as close to Heaven as she would ever be able to get.

“Well, some of us got more than one species warrin’ inside ‘em.” Her statement is a sigh, eyes half-lidded as the magic inside of her begins to peak. The sensation of his tongue against her cheek plunged down into her core, blooming warmth and want began to throb between her legs. She pushed against his hold on her arms, the thrill of being overpowered by him and the need to reach out and touch, claw, and caress him was a constant battle. Her eyes close as the tickle of his lips along her jaw leave a buzzing path on her skin, the scrape of his teeth against her ear eliciting a low hum from the back of her throat, the softest sign of the beginnings of her imminent submission. She angles her head as best she can, baring the delicate column of her neck to him with only the thought of how much she needed the pierce of his teeth against her flesh.

The instant shift of her dress and subsequent chill of the air settling on her heated skin sent a violent shiver through her. “Lazy demon.” she chided before she met his lips with as much ferocity as he gave, reveling in the bruising pain against her mouth. The past three years with John Michael had been full of reverent softness, like she was a wounded deer that he’d saved from the unforgiving forest. It was that picture that she continued to paint for him, obsessive with the thought of living a normal life after over one hundred years of pain and the worst of humanity. In truth, and she wasn’t sure if she would ever tell Aaron, she had needed those three years of soft touches and whispered words of love and support. Without John Michael’s selflessness, Genevieve was sure that she would have died. She had been ready to.

She grinned against his lips as he pressed against her, full of satisfaction as she felt his hard cock through his pants. She hummed again, dark and playful, before continuing to grind herself against him. Her slick folds rubbed against the front of his pants, giving her just enough friction for the sweetest bit of relief. The thought of her juices seeping into the fabric of his pants was enough to bring out a low moan that slipped past her parted lips. “Can you feel that, lover?” she asked, her voice laced with the high-pitched whisper of the Old Gods. The sound of her own question had her lower belly tightening into a knot and she rubbed herself against him with reckless abandon, every bit the wild animal in the forest that she was, with no amount of fragility in sight.

[thearcherbrothersx]

Genevieve's teeth dragged at his lip, and Aaron's answering growl was deep and ominous, almost otherworldly as it pulled from the best that lingered just beneath the surface. He tipped his head then with a low hum of pleasure, jaw angling to allow her better access to the blood on his features, urging her to take more, always more of him.

Chin inching downwards, he eyed her curiously in the brief pause between kisses, taking in the effect of his blood on her lovely eyes; a sight he used to adore with everything in him, and still found himself drawn to. He smirked darkly down at her when she spoke, revealing a hint of sharpened canines that had appeared during their kiss. "Sportsmanship is for humans," he purred darkly in response before brushing his tongue along her own cheek where it had been smeared by the blood on his. A low hum sounded against her skin before he moved his lips to her jaw, dragging them up the curve of it to her ear where he proceeded to scratch his teeth along the lobe. "And you don't want sportsmanship, baby," he almost growled into her ear then.

One hand keeping her wrists locked in place above her head while the other shifted lower, trailing the line of her slim waist to the curve of her hip. There was a low hum of foreign words by her ear, the slightest warning, before Aaron's lips were back on hers in a ferocious kiss - and her dress magically fell off her body into a heap at their feet. The warlock gripped the back of her thigh, drawing her leg up enough for him to push his hips firmly against hers, the rigid outline of his cock pressing against her heated centre as another growl filled the air.

“As you are mine.” she replied, the metallic scent of Aaron’s blood tickling her nose and lighting up her senses. She groaned in pained satisfaction as her back slammed against the door, shoulder blades digging into the unforgiving wood. She met his kiss with a fervent one of her own, sinking her teeth into his bottom lip and tugging before dragging her tongue along his bloodied cheek.

Her eyes darkened, pupils blown wide as the magic in Aaron’s blood began to work its way through her. The corner of her lips quirked up against his mouth as he pinned her arms above her head. “That ain’t very sportsmanlike of you.” she purred against his lips, working to keep her breaths measured and even. She tore her lips from his and leaned her head back against the door, hair bunching up in the spaces between her head and arms, looking up at him with a smirk as she rolled her hips against him.

[thearcherbrothersx]

For a second - a mere flicker of time in his endless existence - he'd doubted. He'd wondered. He'd thought perhaps she was so attached to this sham of hers that she'd shut down the part of herself he so adored. But then she'd really looked at him, and that doubt vanished. Even now, as she closed her eyes, tried to pull herself together, he knew any resistance was futile. Her soul - or whatever passed for one to the two of them - craved his.

A shiver ran through him when her hair moved, the first touch of soft curls a not so subtle reminder of experiences that time should have erased by now, but hadn't. Still, he didn't move, letting his challenge linger in the air between them until her eyes opened, dark yet shimmering with familiar gold.

He ran his tongue over his lips, a low growl reverberating from the back of his throat when curls wrapped around his throat, and her own smirk met his. Almost as if knowing what was coming, Aaron's hands lifted simultaneously with Gen's, though his sought lower. He caught hold of her hip with one, while the other ventured lower still to grab the curve of her ass. He yanked her body against his firmly when the scent of blood reached his nostrils and he felt the jagged tip of her claws against his skin. "You're testing my patience, my love," he murmured in a deep, heavy timbre that would have served as a warning to anyone but her. Another shiver as he held himself back, this time accompanied by a dark purr, his eyes closing for a second as her nose brushed his.

They opened immediately, a hint of fire burning in the depths of pitchblack orbs, when she uttered an answering challenge.

Without a moment's hesitation, Aaron moved. In a blur of motions, hungry lips met hers as he swung her around and slammed back against the door that had been behind him just a moment earlier. He growled against her, keeping her locked in a deep, consuming kiss that held all the yearning of fifty ears apart, all the frustration of seeing her with another man; all the possession of a man who knew without a doubt that she belonged to him. Forcefully, he yanked her hands off his face, her claws leaving deep lines of crimson down his cheeks as he did - but it didn't stop him. He only pushed himself harder against her, all but squashing her body between his own and the door as he forced her hands up above her head. The taste of his powerful blood filled their kiss as it tumbled down the sides of his face from wounds that were already starting to heal.

Aaron’s taunts reached her ears, sounding a lot like the slam of a jail cell door; the dark tendrils sewn into her soul began to thrum in reply, the Murk whispering to her from the depths in it’s high-pitched, eerie whisper: wake up. She felt a pull from within her, behind her ribcage where her heart should be, like a moth to Aaron’s flame.

Her gaze lingered on the pull of his smile, unable to keep herself from appreciating its beauty, no matter how twisted it might look to anyone else. His black eyes were a mirror; his gaze a blade that flayed open her reflection, layer by layer, down to the bones and muck. A tremor shook through her as she stared up at him, or rather, herself— the self that she’d created, all wrapped up in a pretty bow. A caricature.

She held her breath as he pressed against her, eyes closing as a bout of dizziness made her head spin. The long curls that hung around her waist shivered, before slithering up and over her shoulders, seeking out Aaron’s familiar scent. The dominance in his tone sent a thrill of a shock through her core and she opened her eyes, the golden flecks now jagged splotches glowing like junebugs in the summertime.

Answer the call.

Two thick locks of hair slid forward, inching their way up Aaron’s chest before wrapping themselves around his neck. “Okay.” The side of her mouth tugged up into a wry smile as she met his gaze again. She lifted her hands to cradle the sides of his face, gritting her teeth as her nail beds shifted to reveal claws of bloodied bone. She leaned in, brushing her nose against his as she spoke again, her voice laced with the eerie whisper of the Murk. “Make me.”

[thearcherbrothersx]

He could see it, the awakening of the Murk inside her. But more than that, he could practically feel the way the darkness around her grew, coiling around her like a snake about to strike, and his own answering excitement was like a slow burn, fire spreading through his veins. He'd missed this; missed her. The way the darkest parts of her fit his own darkness like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle coming together seamlessly. It was almost enough to make him purr in pleasure.

His lips curled into a smirk, eyes alight with the cruel thrill of finally urging her out of her shell. "On the contrary, threatening you - or rather, your human out there - is getting me exactly where I want to be..." he taunted her, deliberately letting her know she was playing right into his hands just like she always had. He loved her anger; and her threat was an empty one - they both knew it. So his smile widened slightly while his eyes darkened until every bit of colour left them, leaving only bottomless blackness. Her proximity was teasing his senses, begging him to do his worst. So he stepped closer, bringing their bodies flush against each other, and smirked down at her in challenge. Instead of dignifying her threat with an answer, he repeated his former demand, his tone a little firmer this time, laced with both dominance and menace: "Say my name, Genevieve."

She didn’t respond to his question; there was no reason to. It had been a half-hearted attempt at deflection born of the shock of a lifetime— truly, it was a surprise that she had the capability, or perhaps the gall, to even attempt such a reply. None of that mattered, though; she could never forget him.

The subtle shake of Aaron’s head is met with a hard exhale through her nose and a sharp lift of the chin, followed by the parting of her lips as she readied herself to slice him open with her tongue, however she was the one left bleeding when his threat sliced her open instead. The golden flecks in her dark eyes light up with fire as the Murk inside of her quivers and cracks as it wakes up from its long sleep.

“Threatenin’ me aint gon’ get you anywhere.” she hissed, knowing that it was the farthest thing from a simple threat. The anxiety she had felt before had been burned away by anger and the need to protect John-Michael. “You don’t get’ta corner me and make demands like a spoilt child; I ain’t your mama.” She closed the space between them, her defiant glare burning into his, unblinking. “Now, you’re gon’ let me out’a this bathroom or that door’s about to have a you-sized hole in it.”

[thearcherbrothersx]

He felt no need to fill the silence that stretched between them. In fact, he almost revelled in it, letting the heat simmer and build between them. His energy reached out to hers, answering a call from hers he was quite certain she was unaware she was making, and he breathed it in; the heavy scent of tension. After all, he had to assume she'd been leading a somewhat normal life lately, playing house with the most ridiculously white-bread human he'd come across in a while.

Then she spoke, and Aaron's brows furrowed slightly, not bothering to keep his usual mask of pleasantness in place around her. "Sir?" He repeated the word, tone highly sceptical as he took her in. "Pretending not to know me, are we?" He didn't comment on her helplessness or lack thereof; he didn't bother. They both knew, he knew her better than that.

When her gaze finally met his, Aaron exhaled slowly - and then shook his head at her; just a single move from one side to the other and back. "Say my name, Genevieve," he insisted instead, eyes narrowing slightly at her. "Say my name or I'll lure your little boyfriend in here and use his blood to write it across your fucking chest to remind you." He said the word boyfriend with so much venom, you'd think poor Michael-John had killed his mother this morning.

The sound of her name on his tongue was a roll of thunder that shook the battered walls of her mind, threatening to reduce what was left to piles of dust. She gripped the edges of the sink in a white-knuckled vice, lowering her head to let the curtain of curls fall to conceal her face in an attempt at some semblance of defense. His darkness called to her own and it screamed in reply, filling the space between them with a crackling energy that felt alive.

“Trailin’ a helpless girl into the bathroom ain’t a good look, Sir.” she quipped, after far too many moments of silence; it didn’t quite have the bite she had intended. She reached forward to turn the tap on, exhaling slowly as the sound of the water began to soothe her fraying nerves. She closed her eyes, focusing only on the white noise of the water as she took a handful of deep, measured breaths. If she lost her control, she’d ruin everything she’d so painstakingly put together.

“If you’d be so kind as to unlock the door—“ she began, reaching to turn the water off and finally turning to face him. Her gaze traveled upwards to meet his and she found herself swallowed up by the darkness that waited there for her, threading itself through her own like a lover’s gentle embrace. “—I’d be ever so appreciative.”

[thearcherbrothersx]

Part of Aaron's consciousness was painfully aware of her even if he pretended not to be. Even if his gaze seemed focused on the male at her side, even if his amiable smile seemed to communicate nothing but good-natured intent... she was there, lingering at the edge like a constant hum in the back of his mind. As John-Michael approached, a seemingly disengaged Genevieve on his arm, Aaron stood and extended a hand in greeting to the colleague he now felt a very real need to see beaten to a bloody pulp.

The two men shook hands in greeting and exchanged a few pleasant words before John-Michael introduced the beautiful girl on his arm as his girlfriend. The word made something dark and decidedly sinister inside the warlock itch and claw at him, longing to be set free and wreak havoc on the poor human who'd made the unknowing mistake of dating the wrong fucking girl. Reigning it in with practiced ease, Aaron's smile widened as he directed perfectly friendly eyes towards the woman in question. His woman, in fact.

"Nice to meet you, Genevieve..." He said, impressively light and unaffected in tone, a slight incline of his head accompanying the greeting. The words had only just escaped his lips when she excused herself, and Aaron arched a brow at John-Michael as though he were responsible for the poor manners of his girlfriend as she so rudely left their company without a greeting in return. John-Michael's attempt at excuses in her favour, trying to explain that this was really very unlike her, were brushed off with a shrug of Aaron's shoulders.

A smile and a friendly pat on the guy's shoulder later, and Aaron made some excuse that he needed to talk to one of the partners standing elsewhere anyway... and then he trailed the path Gen had made through the crowd. Glancing back over his shoulder to make sure John-Michael wasn't paying attention, he veered off before reaching the partner in question - and instead turned to locate Gen. Her energy, dark and tempting, was like a honing beacon, guiding him in the direction she'd gone.

He reached the restroom she'd decided to hide in mere moments later, and made his way smoothly inside, closing the door quietly. A slight twist of his fingers later, and the door, which had no lock, magically locked itself shut behind him. Then he spoke, just one word, almost reverent - like a prayer to the God he had no business praying to: "Genevieve..."

Regret had formed a strange love affair with Genevieve’s memories over the last fifty years. They strolled together among the war-torn walls of her mind, dancing atop the rubble made from Once Upon A Times and How It All Could Have Beens. Memories would sear their place in her eyes on the nights she couldn’t sleep, while Regret leered at her, lurking in the background of everything she was forced to relive.

After the tragic death of one Dr. David Blankenship, whose mysterious case is still being kept under wraps twenty years later, Genevieve had been so certain that everything would change. That was the whole blueprint, wasn’t it? Molded in His image. Raised up with His influence. Become more than He could control. The predator becomes the prey and the Goddess devours Her God. She lived Happily Ever After, Amen.

However, her Godless life had only continued on in much the same way, forever marching towards the end. Only now, the century of rage that she held had corroded her insides, leaving only ash where her heart should be. The Murk hadn’t been exorcised from her soul, but had branched out its cold tendrils to wind around her bones and pierce her veins with its thorn-like tongues. She was still dying, but so was everyone else. And, most days, she’d be more than happy to meet Death with a glass of sweet tea and a conversation on her front porch before she was escorted to her reward.

One thing that she didn’t regret in her long life, was allowing John-Michael Bedford to slip between the cracks in her defenses and show her what her life could have been like. It was selfish on her part, how long she’d let their relationship last. He was everything that she was supposed to want. Successful, with a healthy dose of humility. Strong, but with a gentle touch. And so very in love with the version of herself that she’d created specifically for him. She’d been playing house for the past three years with him, recklessly so. She’d let herself get comfortable with the normalcy that John-Michael provided, the stability that he continuously offered and asked for nothing in return, except her love.

They were a picture perfect pair as they entered the restaurant, Genevieve’s arm wound tightly through John-Michael’s. She’d been to enough of these celebrations with him that she knew what to expect, but the social obligations of the night were always her downfall. She felt a shiver run its cold finger down her spine and the tumble of curls around her face quivered in response. She stopped in her tracks, taking note of the way her curls had awakened. John-Michael glanced down at her, giving her a reassuring smile and cupping her cheek for a moment before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She had just enough time to savor the warmth that it left in her belly before she was being pulled towards the jovial crowd. She glanced up then, her gaze meeting one that she’d never thought she’d see again. His dark gaze rocked her to the core, bringing with it memories that she’d spent years trying to learn to lock away. The din of the restaurant faded away, replaced by the sound of her heartbeat in her ears. She was vaguely aware of John-Michael saying her name, perhaps giving a needless introduction to the man that stood before them. “I—“ she cleared her throat, fingers coming up to rest on her neck. “Can y’all excuse me for a minute?” she asked, leaving no time for a response before she turned on her heel and made a beeline for the restroom at the back of the restaurant.