Page 18 of Damaged & Deadly

Reaching the first bedroom door, I find it ajar and push it open with my foot. I sigh heavily when I find mom’s things scattered around her room. Clothes have been tossed out of her wardrobe and her bed has been pushed to one side as if someone was trying to check under it.

With a shake of my head, I move swiftly on, already picturing the damage I’ll find in his room and mine.

“It’s alright, Luc,” I soothe, rubbing his back. His tiny arms are wrapped tightly around my neck, his head buried in the crook of my neck. “Mommy will be back soon. Let’s get you into bed and I’ll get us tidied up. How about mac ‘n’ cheese for dinner, yeah?”

I reach Luc’s bedroom next. His door is covered in dinosaur stickers, and I’m distracted, placing a kiss on the top of his head as I step into the room. My steps falter as the door creaks open and I catch my first glimpse of a foot. Another step, and a torso comes into view. Unease churns my stomach, bile climbing up my throat as the door swings all the way open.

“Oh my god,” I gasp. I clutch Luc’s head, holding him tightly against me so he can’t look. He can’t see this. I can’t see this. This can’t be real. My chest heaves as I stand frozen in the doorway, trembling from head to toe. My vision blurs and I have to blink, causing tears to spill down my cheeks. I don’t need to see her, though. The image of her lying there is forever ingrained into my memory: her wide, glassy eyes and the mottled bruising around her neck.

I stumble from the room, dry heaving as I blindly make my way back to the living room and collapse onto the floor. Hours pass in a haze as the sun slowly moves across the sky in the kitchen window while I freak out on the grimy floor and clutch my brother to me. My mom is dead. Murdered. Lost in my frantic thoughts, I kiss the top of Luc’s head. He lifts his face to look at me, and I stare down at him. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

I startle awake with a gasp that quickly turns to a moan as pleasure unfurls in my lower belly. My heart is still racing from that dream… except it wasn’t a dream. It was very much reality.Myreality. My past. And I’m currently experiencing the biggest mindfuck as I try to coincide the terror I felt when I awoke with the pleasurable sensations that are quickly sending that fear skittering to the recesses of my mind.

“What the…” I glance down to find Dante’s broad shoulders wedged between my thighs, his tongue going to town as he laps, sucks, and nibbles on me. Another wave of pleasure rattles through me, and I arch my back. I go to move my hands, but something cold pinches the skin. Confused, I glance up to find my wrists handcuffed to the bed. What the… “Ooh,” I moan as Dante’s fingers join the party, easily sliding into me.

My lids are at half-mast as I writhe beneath him, my breathing quickly becoming ragged as the pleasure builds in my core, threatening to explode outwards at any moment. The handcuffs dig painfully into my skin as I instinctively try to move them to thread my fingers through Dante’s hair, wanting him closer, needing more, and I groan in a mixture of frustration and need.

“Dante,” I cry, desperate for release as I grind on his face. His eyes flick up to meet mine, and his pupils are dilated with arousal. His gaze holds me captive, this intangible connection hovering in the air between us like an electric current. It’s thick with chemistry, lust, and desire, but there’s something more profound as well. This isn’t purely physical. It’s not just sex. It’s more, so much more. We both feel it, even if I can’t put words to what it is. But as he stares into my eyes, I can feel it. Tenderness. Compassion. Maybe even love, or something close to it.

I throw my head back, screaming my release as pleasure shoots out from my core, racing along my nerves all the way to my fingers and toes, leaving me breathless. My eyes are closed as I try to get my breathing under control, then I feel Dante as he tugs my panties back in place and fixes my top before rolling onto his side of the bed.

As the heady rush of endorphins begins to wear off, reality seeps in, and the afterglow of my orgasm recedes as frustration and anger rear their ugly heads. I fell asleepalonelast night. In my old room. Yet, I’ve woken up handcuffed to Dante’s bed. The asshole doesn’t know the meaning of personal space.

I snap my eyes open, intent on telling him off, but my mouth goes dry when I find him fisting his engorged cock. Precum leaks from the head as he works himself over in tight, fast strokes. He groans, the guttural noise dragging my attention to his face. His head is leaning back against the headboard, his eyes on me as his hand works harder, faster, bringing him to orgasm. Our eyes connect, that static energy flaring to life once again, and his face scrunches up as he grunts. Cum spurts onto his chest and abdomen, glistening against the hills and valleys of his abs as he breathes heavily.

After a moment, he gets up and heads into the bathroom, and I hear the shower turn on. Without his delicious body frying my brain cells and distracting me, I remember that I’mstillhandcuffed to his bed. Asshole.

“Sure, I’ll just stay here,” I grumble under my breath as I tug pointlessly on my restraints before giving up and waiting for him to come back.

He takes his sweet fucking time showering, and my head is about ready to explode when he returns. “Take these fucking things off me,” I snap when he steps into the room with a towel hanging low on his hips.

He fights a smile as he moves toward the bed and perches beside me. I can’t do anything except glower up at him. “I said I wanted to be alone last night.”

“And I said you were to sleep in here from now on,” he counters.

“How am I supposed to trust you if I can’t even go to sleep without worrying if you’re going to violate my privacy.”

Not immediately responding to me, he reaches out his hand instead, running the tip of his finger along the strip of skin on display between the bottom of my top and my panties. His eyes diligently follow the motion of his finger as if he can’t look away. It’s not a sexual gesture. It’s more like he feels compelled to touch me. Like it’s something hehasto do. Goosebumps erupt along my skin, and somehow this moment feels even more intimate than the one we just shared.

Slowly, he drags his eyes over my chest and up my neck, until he reaches my face. His hand is still flat against my stomach, but it feels more comforting than dominating.

“You already do trust me. You wouldn’t have told me about the Reaper if you didn’t. Nor would you have left your brother behind yesterday.”

Fuck, he might just be right. “Well, this definitely is not playing by the rules.”

“You broke the rules first. You sleep in here,” he reminds me, repeating his words from yesterday.

“I just needed time to myself,” I try to explain.

He gives a small nod in understanding before reaching over to open the drawer in the bedside table. Producing a tiny key, he turns it over in his hand as if contemplating actually letting me go. I can see the hesitation in his eyes. Hewantsto keep me tied up here. Instead of berating him, I remain quiet, waiting to see what decision he chooses for himself, wanting to see whether my words from yesterday had any impact on him. Dante’s a conundrum wrapped in an enigma, stuffed inside a puzzle box. He’s not just a mystery to me, but to himself. He doesn’t know who he is. He doesn’t fully understand right from wrong, nor does he have the capacity to empathize and put himself in others' shoes. It’s not that he can’t, he just doesn’t know how. He needs someone to show him. So, why do I find myself wanting to be that person?

I wait him out while he stares at the key in his hand. The seconds tick by, but eventually, he lifts his hand to insert the key in the lock, and with a click, the handcuffs fall away. I fight a smile, my heart swelling with pride that he did the right thing by me. Baby steps.

Sitting up, I lean forward and place a soft kiss on his cheek before shimmying to the end of the bed. I make a point of not looking back as I stride into the bathroom, so he can’t see the stupid grin on my face. I have much bigger things I need to focus on today. Like saving my brother and protecting my guys. Closing the bathroom door behind me, my head drops back to rest against it as I sigh. Fuck, nothing like trying to achieve the impossible.

Chapter 8

Half an hour later, I step into the kitchen dressed in the comfiest pair of skinny jeans I’ve ever worn. They literally mold to my ass, making it look fantastic, and the rips in the knees are intentional and not a consequence of running around the city in them for years. I’ve paired them with my trusty, chunky heeled boots. There were more shoes in the wardrobe than I could wear in a year, but footwear is vital in my line of work and I don't have time for blisters while I break in a new pair of shoes. I’ve finished today’s outfit with a forest green corset-style top that hugs my curves and pushes my tits together and complements my fiery-red hair perfectly.

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