"Will you sleep with me?" He hesitates. Then he takes a deep breath. Dammit, I'm pleading. I should not beg him. I should chase him away.
I open my mouth but he lets out a "Shush." and pulls me against his chest. I'm a mess, but for some reason, I'm a happy mess. Date = 5 September
Place = San Francisco (Uncle John's house)
POV - Damion
I glare at the message on her phone. Is this a prank? I dig deep to think of anyone - except me - whose name starts with a D. Fuck. And I'm going away for a few successional races soon, but if she has a stalker I need to do something.
Knock. Knock.
Someone's at the door. Fuck. I don't want to get up. Mel is sleeping peacefully on my chest, making the sweetest sexiest little snoring sound. Almost like a tiny kitten.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
The person is getting impatient. Fiddling with the handle. I shift Mel gently to the side so I can get up.
"Mel?" A voice sounds through the door. "Are you in there?" I cringe on my teeth. It's the bastardly boyfriend. I unlock the door and swing it open.
"What do you want?" I don't even try to sound halfway friendly. His face contorts. He doesn't seem to like me very much. Well, the feeling is mutual.
"I'm looking for Mel." He tries to push past me, but I fill the doorway pretty darn well. He's no match for me.
"She's sleeping," I say calmly. He glares at me with pissed eyes.
"Have you seen Jason and Chloe?"
"They were escorted home." Thank goodness Jackson threw them both into an Uber and ordered the guards not to let them back in. He should have done the same with this asshole.
"And you're not welcome here, so just go." He turns around without a word.
"Good boy," I taunt. Then he swings around and a fist hits me against my jaw. My head snaps and I have to step back to keep my balance. Motherfucker.
Years of training kick in instinctively, and without even thinking I land one on his ribs. He huffs, wind out. I move through with a solid blow against his eye. He falls to the ground. That was not planned … but it feels so fucking good.
"Now get the fuck out of this house!"
He gets up and glowers at me. I swear he's killing me in his mind - I can see the crazy in his eyes. Fuck. I really need to get Mel away from him. He's not good boyfriend material.
"This is not over, biker," he threatens. I smile cheekily, but I realize he's going to be trouble.
"She's mine," he hisses before he walks away. Yeah, in your dreams buddy. I close the door. I'll need to stay here and look after this drunken bunch tonight. What if that guy comes back and does something to Mel? A chill runs down my spine.
No fucking way am I leaving her alone in this state.
I check on Logan. He's passed out in the fetal position in the big empty bath. I put a pillow under his head and cover his nearly naked body with a blanket. He's fine for now, but he's going to feel like shit when he wakes up eventually. I'm sure the rest of the brothers are also passed out somewhere … they overdid it just a little. But Axel's got them covered.
I bend down next to the bed and watch Mel's sweet face as I sweep her hair back. She looks like a fucking angel when she sleeps and I swear I can stay right here in this moment looking at her forever. The shadows inside me dissipate and there's no guilt, no pain, no demons … just a warm empty calmness.
Only she has that effect on me. She's my light.
I breathe in deeply, drinking the essence of her.
She smells like the ocean. A fragrance created in harmony with nature. Radiant, fresh, and subtly capturing the landscape where the sky meets the sea in a warm, oceanic floral bouquet.
Enveloping, serene, and sensual. My dick hardens and I push it down.
Here and now, every reason that previously stopped me from claiming her as my own suddenly seems inconsequential. I take one last whiff, plant a kiss on her forehead, get up, and walk out onto the balcony.
Maybe my feelings are just in my head. Or it could be circumstantial. Or fatalistic … superstitions … or even potentially harmful libidinous urges … who knows?
What I do know is that each time I reach rock bottom, Mel is the only one who can lift me up and out of the hole.
I stare at the almost silent black ocean in the distance. It's a calm wind-free night.
I could say it started at the haunted house … and it did … but a year before I met Mel.
And there's a whole preliminary foreword that comes even before that.
Like my wild hyperactive childhood. My urge to do dangerous things. My impulsive recklessness. My inclination to attract disasters. My tendency to get caught in stupid situations. My love for racing. Things that are a part of me. My nature.
Unfortunately, with the thrill, the speed, the risks, and the stupidity also come the demons - accidental or otherwise - little fucking leeches that attach themselves to my soul, living off my guilt, pulling me into the shadows of nightmares. And it's nearly impossible to pry their little claws away.
PTSD is what the doctors call them. I call them demons.
Just a word, a smell, a sound … any little reminder … can pop one out to haunt me like a fucking banshee on a runaway freight train. It's not pretty.
That's how I ended up at the haunted house … hoping to find some clearance … anything to make it stop before I went insane.
And that's when I found Mel.
Because of her, I tried to find new ways of coping and ended up taking fighting classes. Unlike therapy, it worked, but even though it helped a lot, it could not fully fix the broken boy. The demons stayed … and more joined the train over the years.
I'll never forget that first day of eighth grade, just as I was at a very low point again, the universe sent me my angel … standing at her school locker this time.
Just seeing her got me out of the hole and back into business. And I knew she was the solution to getting rid of that train track to hell.