Page 12 of Knight

Layer after layer of dark crown moulding greets me, another fancy chandelier dangling from the middle of the room. A velvet chair sits beside a white stone fireplace, a large screen on top of it. A built-in bookshelf sits behind the curved desk with a massive array of titles. It smells like leather and cigarettes, with the faintest hint of weed in the air.

Tapping on my cheek, I sit in the big leather chair behind the desk. Where would a rich dead guy keep his secrets? Turning around, I open a few books on the shelf behind me. My eyes narrow and I start tilting books back as if a secret door will open like in the movies.

Nada.

Swivelling in the chair, I pull at the little rectangular drawer under the desk while I look around, but it’s locked. Pulling again as if it’ll magically open, it doesn’t, a small keyhole at the top.

Of course.

“What are you doing here?”

That deep growling voice makes me gasp. Like, a literal gasp leaves my throat, the hairs on my skin rising to attention.

When I look up, we’re finally face-to-face. The King and I.

Damien hangs onto the doorknob, his brows low, face wet. A lock of wet hair hangs over one eye, his blazer on, still no shirt underneath. His slacks hang off his lean frame without a belt to hold it up and that chiselled v-cut beckons me.

Rising from the chair, I approach him, staring into his eyes as my stomach squeezes into itself. “I was—”

“Ruining my life some more?” Damien cuts me off before I can explain.

“Wait, what?” This morning, a part of me would give anything to be alone in a room with Damien King, but this isn’t what I expected.

“I told you to leave.” He makes his way towards the green velvet chair, taking a book out of a shelf along the way.

“We’re back to this?” After everything that happened? “Damien, I haven’t seen you since—”

“Why are you still here, Medusa?” He cuts me off again before he reaches into the pocket of his blazer, pulling out a small baggie of white powder. There’s a coldness in the room, and even with my leather jacket on I’m shivering. He taps out some powder on the hardcover of the book before pulling out a cut-off straw from his pocket.

Walking over to him I snatch the book out of his hand, powder flying off. “You can’t mix uppers and downers or you’ll end up like your dad, stupid.” Shit, that’s harsh. I guess I’m more frustrated with him than I thought. “What happened to you? I went to your house but Isobel sent me away.”

“What happened?” Damien chuckles, low and menacing and it makes the contents in my stomach toss around some more. “You degraded my life to that of a Grove whore. Sad and parentless.” He leans back in his seat, eyes blown. “Seems we have more in common now. Is that what you wanted?”

I’m trying to ignore what he’s saying. He’s hurting. He doesn’t mean this. His words cut through me, but I’ve been here before. Waking up and realizing your parents won’t ever come back is a hell of a thing to go through. Damien might think he’s alone, but I want him to know he has me.

“You were sad before I met you,” I lean against the desk, dropping the baggie in my pocket, crossing my arms. He seems too tired to argue. Too out of it to care that I’m not leaving. “Don’t blame me for that.”

“You’re right.” A lazy smirk grows on his face and … okay. How does he still look like he’s posing for an album cover when he’s pissing me off? Sexy and cool even though he looks completely toasted. “And that sweet little pussy helped cheer me right up.” He sits up but his head still slumps into his shoulders. “Is that why you’re still here? To cheer me up with a quick fuck?”

“Don’t you have Mia Khalifa over there for that?” Shit. I sound jealous as hell.

He arches an eyebrow, his voice a slow drawl. “The fact you know who that is is pretty hot.”

“I’m surprised you know who I am while on … whatever the fuck it is you’re on.”

“What?” He chuckles through his word, leaning back in his seat, chin to the ceiling. “A little whiskey, weed and valium cocktail never hurt anybody. Cocaine would’ve topped it all off.”

“With death.”

“You’d know all about that.”

“Damien, I get it.” My arms flop to my sides as I walk towards him. Pulling my jacket down my arms, I let it fall to the floor. I don’t miss when his eyes wander my body. That’s good. I’m reaching for the boy I know is inside. “I get that you’re hurting. I get that this must be the hardest thing in the world for you to go through. But I’m not the enemy here—”

His rolling laugh cuts me off again before he sits up, reaching for my hand. His touch lights a rocket in my core. “Aren’t you?” I let him lead me onto his lap, his hand falling to my thigh. It sends my body ablaze. Damien’s touch feels so good. So relieving. “It’s always hotter sleeping with the enemy, isn’t it?” His warbly voice hits my ear. “No matter how badly they fuck you over.”

“What?” My brows knit together as his hand tightens on my thigh, the other tilting my chin to the ceiling. His tongue is on my neck and it sends ripples of tingles flowing through my body but I can’t ignore his words.

“Every time I tell you to leave, you stay. Why?” On his last word, his fingers push between my legs, the cold touch of his hand mixing with the heat of my thigh. I’m a mix of emotions. His words make me angry. Scared. While his touch makes me feel like I’m headed for the stars.

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