Intensity

He was really starting to piss me off.

There was no way Cullen would ever do anything of the sort to me.

For the past five minutes he had just sat there staring at me while I processed the information that he just told me. For crying out loud, who the hell was Felicity? Who was Elizabeth? Did he mean one of Clare’s goonies that liked to make my life a living hell? I shook my head. This boy might have some serious sex appeal but he made absolutely no sense.

“You are wrong,” I muttered, turning my head away from his burning eyes. He sighed and stood up.

“In order for you to do this favor for me, you have to understand what I’m talking about. When that weird party day that this fucking town likes to do every year comes around, you have to realize he might not be there.”

My head snapped back toward him, my eyes narrowing.

“So you mean that Cullen won’t be there to save me if I were to… help you… because of this Felicity?”

He curtly nodded, his eyes flashing.

I rolled my eyes and shifted in my chair.

“I don’t believe you.”

He stood there for a moment staring, his eyes wide and disbelieving. Suddenly he threw himself on his bed, and groaned. “Only you would think Cullen to be faithful.” He sat back up and looked at me again, “Why do you like him so much?”

I simply shrugged, and stood up walking around the room. After Patrick had taken off the blindfold he had quickly escorted me to his room – or well I only figured it was his room, it had a bed – away from the other people that had once been talking. I ran my fingers along one of the few paintings that were hung in the room, and sighed. Whoever had decorated this place had no sense of style whatsoever, unlike Cullen’s mansion.

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Patrick said from across the room. I heard the bed squeak from relief as he stood up and walked toward me. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pressed his lips to my neck.

“You know, if you keep doing that, there will be no talking,” I mumbled, heat rising to my face. His hand ceased movement and then suddenly he let out a laugh, and pulled away all together. His hands up in the air.

“Fine no touching. Better?”

I rolled my eyes and nodded. He sighed and threw himself back on the bed and turned on the flat screen. I rolled my eyes as I walked over to him and sat down beside him on the bed.

“Do you really want to know why I like him?” I whispered, keeping my eyes on the flashing images on the television. Patrick didn’t say anything, but I could feel his eyes boring into the side of my head. “He protected me. He makes me feel as if I’m important. He is confusing sometimes, but he wouldn’t sleep with me until I was ready. He makes sure I’m safe and he cares about me.”

Patrick scoffed, and pulled me down so that I was laying on the bed our faces inches away.

“You, my darling,” he whispered, his eyes finally showing some other emotion than anger and cockiness. “Are delusional.”