Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny

Quintessa scoffed, "As if you're one to talk about not kissing."

Her room seemed to be Tyrone's favorite crash spot; the hotel clearly didn't care as long as the cash flowed.

Head bowed, Tyrone bit her lip, "Could he ever compare to me? What is he, some old guy kissing you, I'll end him."

The smell of alcohol was heavy on Tyrone; Quintessa wondered just how much he had drunk, as if he'd been marinating in a whiskey barrel for days.

Quintessa pushed him away, "Why didn't you just drink yourself to death with your uncle outside? Get away."

Tyrone grunted, "No, I'm not leaving; I'm staying."

Damn it; was he even drunk? He was too quick with his comebacks. She ground her teeth, "Then move over; this is my room. If you're broke, go sleep on the streets; don't hog my bed." Whether drunk or sober, Tyrone mumbled, "I won't go. I want to roll with you together."

In the dark, he leaned down to kiss Quintessa accurately on her lips, gently nibbling, whispering, "I need to erase his scent from you, you should only carry my scent, only mine."

In the darkness, they couldn't see each other's faces, and Quintessa could only feel the burning heat from Tyrone, the scent of alcohol almost intoxicating her too.

Maybe it was the night's allure or the numbing effect of the alcohol, but Quintessa found Tyrone's kiss surprisingly tender and lingering, her hands instinctively reaching for his shoulders.

If this was merely a night for two people to seek solace and warmth in each other's company, Quintessa thought she might not push Tyrone away. All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

Whispering into her ear, Tyrone said, "Quintessa, be mine, I can protect you."

Her heart fluttered, the intimacy and flirtation from his kiss fading with those words. She gently patted Tyrone's head, "Be good. You're drunk; go to sleep."

Tyrone surprisingly reacted fast, "Alright, let's sleep."

Saying so, he quickly shed his clothes and reached for Quintessa's nightgown, Quintessa clenched her teeth, thinking she might tolerate just sleeping beside Tyrone, but now she realized even that was too much to ask.

With a kick, she sent him off the bed, "I don't want to sleep with you; get out."

With a thud, Tyrone hit the floor. Quintessa expected him to explode in anger or come back with more persistence, but after a while, there was still silence.

Something wasn't right. She turned

on the bedside lamp, its dim light filling the room. Looking under the bed, she saw Tyrone sprawled out, already asleep in a comical pose.

Quintessa couldn't help but laugh, but soon, the laughter died in her throat. Releasing a sigh, she realized Tyrone got his wish; she was now marked by his scent, her breath tainted with the smell of alcohol.

- Quintessa, be mine, I can protect you.

Covering her eyes with her hand, she pondered, "In this world, who can truly protect whom?"

Quintessa remembered someone else making a similar promise; he said, "You won't have to be afraid; I'll protect you."

But in the end? He left, and she was still floundering in danger at that time.