Page 18 of Pawn

Being this close to him in an elevator reminds me of the time at the hotel, my cheeks getting warmer. How does he still have that effect on me when everything’s so fucked up?

My gaze drops to the floor, but on the way, I don’t miss the bulge in his pants. Even on a day like today, I can still make the King hard as a steel rod. And why the fuck does that turn me on? “I’m in hell and you’re the fucking devil.”

To that he chuckles, bringing my chin up to meet his gaze again, “Guess that means I’m the only one who can bring you out of it.” And when he kisses me again, I know he’s fucking right. I’m lost in his lips when the metal on my wrists loosens and when I look down, Damien has the key in his grip.

Like the same one he has to my heart.

“This shit is so fucked up.” My forehead falls against his chest, too exhausted to fight anymore. “What are we gonna do?”

His arms pull around me, lips coming to my head. “Keep you safe. At all costs.”

* * *

Our time at the hospital is a blur.

After getting Willow a big bag of food, Damien stopped to buy her a huge teddy bear. It’s so fucking cheesy, you could see the thing from The Grove.

Probably from the guilt.

Who am I kidding? I’m as responsible for my sister’s situation as he is. As responsible for this mess I’m in.

When we finally get to see Willow, there’s colour in her face again, a brightness to her eyes. Her voice sounds as meek as it did when we got here but the small smile she gives tells me she’ll be okay.

The doctor doesn’t keep her for long, Damien making sure he taps any instructions in his phone. I have no idea what my sister went through but I’m never letting her out of my sight again.

Damien agrees, taking us both back to the lake house. He orders a car there and tells him to be quick. The streets are empty as it nears the wee hours and once we’re settled at the house, we get my sister comfy in the guest-room before she’s dozing off in fluffy white sheets. Not wanting to leave her, and still needing time from Damien, I crawl in with her, slipping off my jacket.

With her heavy breaths telling me she’s alive, I try to relax as she drifts deeper into sleep. Exhausted, it’s not long before I do too.

My dreams make me relive that night, replaying the nightmare of the past hours in my head.

Fire.

Blood.

Screams.

Damien.

My eyes shoot open every time they get too intense, my arms sweaty and clammy in my sweater. When I’m startled awake again, the last images on my lids are those heels in the air before cold hands come under me.

“Damien?” The smell of pot and peppermint gives him away as he lifts me off the bed.

He doesn’t answer and if I wasn’t so tired I’d protest. But when he takes me to his bed, my head against his chest, the nightmares finally stop.

BANG!

I’m not sure how much sleep I get, if any real sleep at all when I’m woken up by a loud noise. My eyes spring open, my vision focusing on the closed door.

No one’s in the bed beside me, rumpled sheets and a messy Damien imprint. I can still smell him and I hate that it makes me warm.

My sister’s giggle comes from beyond the door and the beating in my chest slows. She’s okay. She’s here. Alive. And after all that somehow, she’s still laughing. My sister’s stronger than I give her credit for.

Wanting to rub the morning out of my eyes, something holds me back. When I wiggle, I realize I can’t move at all. Rolling from side to side, I’m starting to wonder if I’m dreaming or if I have paralysis. When I roll off the bed, my shoulder hitting the ground hard, I realize what’s happened.

I’m fucking hogtied.

I can’t move my legs or wrists, and when the rope digs into my skin, it’s soft like the stuff Damien uses.

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