Page 9 of Call You Mine

He leans forward, his lips a mere inch away from mine, allowing me to smell the liquor on his tongue. “Where’d you want it to go, Wyn?”

Instead of further complaining about his horrible, unoriginal choices in nicknames he’s determined to give me, I cut straight to the point. “I need somewhere to stay.”

And just like that, he releases me. “You really need to come up with a lame ass excuse to come and see me Wyn? I thought you were better than that.”

I stomp my foot in frustration, behaving like the goddamn spoiled brat he’s accused me of being in the past, but I can't help myself. This man has always brought out that side of me, constantly pushing me toward the edge of madness just to get a rise out of me and prove his point.

“It’s not an excuse, it's the truth,” I groan. “I need a place to crash for a few nights.”

His expression doesn’t change, and I’m not sure why it pisses me off so much.Why is he acting like we’re fucking strangers?

“Why?” he asks, taking a step forward.

I take one backward in response. “What do you mean, why?”

A small smirk appears on his face the second he notices my movement, taking another three strides my way. Without thinking, I pull my coat tighter, unable to fasten it since the buttons are lying scattered along the floor.

“I mean, why do you need somewhere to stay? What are you running from?”

“Nothing…”

“Bullshit,” he shouts, his gravelly tone awakening something strange inside of me. Fear, but not the kind I’ve dealt with the last few years. This is something entirely different, a pleasurable feeling. “There is blood soaking your clothes. Blood you just said isn’t yours. Not to mention you look like shit, Wynter. "

Ouch.

I shake my head, needing to get the hell out of here before my tired, frazzled brain confuses this situation and turns it into something it's not. There is no desire in his eyes, no lust when his eyes trailed over my body. It was a need for information, to know exactly why I was at his doorstep, covered in someone else’s blood.

“Look Damon, I need a shower, a change of clothes, and a fucking bed to lay my head down before it fucking explodes and makes a mess on your precious wooden floor. And I need you to not ask questions. I thought I could at least count on you for that.”

He laughs before his placid smirk settles back in place. “Look around, Princess,” he says with conviction. “Even if I believed you, there isn’t room for you here. I’m turning the keys in for the place today.”

I turn away from him, frustrated I’m still wasting time. “Forget it. I’ll just catch an Uber to a hotel.”

“Wait, Wyn,” he calls out and I halt, my hand on the doorknob. Relief washes over me when I realize he’s about to agree to help me.

But he doesn’t.

“At least let me give you a ride.”

Chapter Two

DAMON

Of all the things I thought I would do today, standing in the middle of my apartment with none other than Wynter Fucking Servite, AKAThe Stone-Cold Bitchof Servite Academy and all of fucking Hillcrest Hills—not that I’d ever say that to her face—was the last thing I’d have ever guessed.

Yet here I am, staring at a woman who looks nothing like the uptight yet incredibly sexy chick I used to see around campus and at Servite parties. This isn’t the same girl who was one of theQueens of Servite Academy, a quartet of condescending rich girls who fought tooth and nail with every student who didn't meet their elitist expectations, especially my sister Ruby and my best friend's Scarlett and Jade.

This version of Wynter is also different from the girl I formed a secretfriendshipwith after a drunken night full of mistakes and regrets.

Over three years ago, shortly after we’d arrived at the academy, I’d gotten into a huge fight with my ex-girlfriend, Scarlett. Not only were we arguing constantly since comingto the school but she’d been acting differently, claiming our relationship was doomed from the start or what not. Coming to Servite Academy felt like the worst thing that could have happened to our new relationship.

After years of friendship, we’d given ourselves the chance to see if we could become more than just friends, but once we were forced to leave the foster home we’d grown up in, it felt like she became a completely different person. I no longer recognized my best friend.

Scar began acting secretive when that asshole Ace Servite, who I didn’t like since the first time I saw him, was constantly on her ass with the excuse of wanting us gone, but there was something else in the way he looked at her. He wanted her, and she was mine, so I became this psychotic, possessive asshole who ended up driving her away.

I felt a strong need to keep her safe despite everything, especially when Ace and his family continued to be a threat to her. We were family, and I’d do anything to keep my family safe, but I confused the need to protect her as something entirely different. I confused it for love, having never experienced it before in any form. I wasn't sure what I was feeling.

After a fight we’d had, the one that in reality ended it all, I went out to a Servite party and got shit-fucking-faced. I felt betrayed but worst of all angry with myself for becoming such a fucking asshole and treating Scar that way, pushing her to betray me—something she would have never done if she had her mind clear. She owed me nothing, but I was a volatile, short-tempered, fucked up son of a bitch who couldn’t see it. Hence my nickname, Dragon. I’ve always been temperamental—a vicious, fire-breathing monster was exactly what I’d become.

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