Page 113 of Born in Depravity

I didn’t knowhow long I had been asleep, but when I was startled awake, it wasn’t even morning yet.

And I wasn’t alone.

The bathroom light was on, just enough for me to see in the room, and I caught sight of him right away. He was sitting on the recliner facing the bed, and he was watching me. I didn’t know how long he had been watching me sleep, but it couldn’t have been very long.

Damien was still in his day clothes, his dark eyes wide awake, and his buzz cut dark hair had grown somewhat since the day I met him at the gas station.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, pet. Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

Oh, yeah, like that was possible with him sitting right there watching me. Plus, now that he was here, I didn’t want to close my eyes for fear that he might disappear on me again.

I patted the spot next to me on the bed without thinking. Damien watched my hand for a long moment before he looked up and met my eyes.

A dark cloud shadowed his eyes, and I didn’t know the reason behind it.

“You want me to join you in bed?” He shot me a cruel smile. “Has my little pet gotten addicted already? Do you want me to play with your body again?”

For some reason, his words hurt. I blinked and looked away from him.

I didn’t say anything as I lay back down on the bed and pulled the covers over my shoulders, closing my eyes. I was determined to ignore him.

I didn’t know what it was, but Damien felt different tonight than he did any other night.

Less controlled.

More dangerous.

I’d let my guard down. It was what they had planned all along, but fuck, I had fallen for it. I’d let my guard down, and I actually missed them … missed him.

And now he was being mean. The worst part was this wasn’t anything new.

The blanket was yanked from my body and I let out a small cry.

Damien loomed over me, and he didn’t look like the avenging angel but the fucking devil himself—and I had pissed this devil off.

He grabbed me and I thrashed on the bed, trying to fight him off. He moved on top of me, his weight pressing me down on the bed and keeping me immobile.

I let out another cry as my nails raked down the side of his face, trying to buck him off with my hips. He pressed down even more against me, forcefully moving between my legs.

I fought harder when I felt his hard erection pressed up against me, my nails digging into his skin and drawing blood. A drop of it ran down his cheek and to his mouth. He paused when he tasted it, his tongue peeking out to lick it clean.

I swallowed. He smiled at me.

Leaning down, he kissed the side of my jawline, moving up to my ear.

“I fucking love it when you make me bleed,” he said softly, and took off his shirt. The scars on his body seemed so much more prominent in this light, and that said something, considering how dim the room was.

I didn’t want to look at the scars.

I didn’t want to look at the markings that made the monster, as I was sure each of these scars played a role in who he was today … in who he was right now, with me.

A cruel, cruel man.

My heart pounded in my chest in fear, clouding my vision and thoughts. I didn’t think when I moved my hand down his back, trying to hurt him.

It didn’t seem to be working.

He was too fucking strong, and I didn’t know how to fight him off. I couldn’t.

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