Page 26 of Facet

“You didn’t actually reach out to your mother about my family, did you?” I asked in a small voice.

“I did ask her, yes, but it wasn’t my main purpose, no,” he reluctantly admitted.

It was trivial, but it hurt that he’d lied to me. Then my brain got to spinning and though I was a little afraid of the answer, I asked anyway. “Whydidyou reach out to your mom?”

“Something happened that I didn’t understand.” Damien wouldn’t look at me, and the muscle in his jaw ticked madly.

“Which was what, exactly?”

“I need to get inside. Venom and my brothers need to be made aware of what has happened,” Damien announced instead of answering my question, yet he made no move to get out.

Unsure of what he expected of me, I sat with him and bit my tongue.

I was shocked when he suddenly leaned over and tangled his fingers in my hair at the back of my head. With gentle pressure, he guided me until our lips brushed.

That simple action sucked the air from my lungs and stilled my heart. When his tongue teased my upper lip, I opened and sucked in a sharp breath. My oxygen-starved brain was flooded, making me dizzy—or maybe that was the rush of lust.

He swept into my mouth and stroked against the sensitive roof, making me shiver and cling to his shirt. We were both panting by the time he broke free, his heated breath fanned over my damp and swollen lips.

“Damien,” his mother murmured, her tone full of warning.

“Wait for me in my room,” he finally said.

I nodded and we climbed out of his truck. Hand in hand, we entered the clubhouse and went straight to the back hall. When he took a left to go to Venom’s office, our hands disconnected, and I took a right and went into his room.

After everything that had happened that night, I needed a shower to wash some of it off my skin. I stripped out of my Spanx shorts and cropped T. When I stepped under the heated stream, I closed my eyes and dropped my head back.

I’d been searching for my real family for years. Every lead I found turned out to be a dead end. It always seemed I made one step forward and two steps back. Then one guy I was introduced to recommended I find the Royal Bastards in Ankeny, Iowa.

I’d hopped on a bus and arrived in Ankeny with what I could fit in my oversized backpack and the clothes on my back. When I’d arrived at the clubhouse that first time, I’d been a bit terrified. Cookie had brought me there to speak to Venom after I showed up at the strip club looking for him.

Venom and the others had terrified me, and it had taken me months to break down and ask for their help. Cookie had offered to ask them for me, but I didn’t want her fighting my battles.

A small part of me couldn’t help but wonder if this newest development was going to destroy us before we began. Damien was some type of demon. I was human—or I assumed I was human. Shit, what if I wasn’t? This newest development had me questioning everything IthoughtI knew.

Despite what I’d learned tonight, I still wanted Damien.

Did that make me crazy, under some type of compulsion?

Or maybe both.

“Everything”—BridgeToGrace

Venom had seen and heard a lot of shit over the years. I knew that because I’d been with him for a lot of it. Still, after I concluded my story, his jaw hung, and his blue-green gaze was wide.

“Bro, I’m not sure what to say.” He blinked. “Are you sure you didn’t do some ‘shrooms or something?”

I heaved a sigh. “I wish it was that easy to explain away.”

His large hand rubbed over his jaw and mouth before he fell back in his chair and continued to stare at me like I’d just landed in his office covered in tinfoil and announcing I was from the planet Pluto.

“I’m going to call everyone in. We’ll go over this and find out the best course of action going forward. You’re not alone,” he finally insisted.

“I’m not asking for this to become a club issue. I just need your guidance and opinions on what I should do,” I muttered before I hung my head. When I lifted it to look at him through the dark fall of my hair, he was already sending out a text. I knew that because my phone vibrated in my pocket. When I pulled it out, I saw the group message from the app I’d created specifically for us—for security reasons.

“It’s not about it being a club issue. You’re our brother and you have never hesitated to be there for us. It didn’t matter if it was a club matter or a personal one. You never denied us. Let us return the favor—at least as much as we can.” He gazed at me, waiting for my affirmative reply. I was sure he wouldn’t accept anything less.

“There isn’t much you can do, but I appreciate the support,” I finally muttered, embarrassed by the emotional attention. Growing up the way I did, too much affection made me uncomfortable.

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