by L. J. Woods
“Jesus, Rowland,” Damien’s voice is a growl, as usual, his scent twisting my insides. When I try to grab the rail, I don’t know how but my hands hit his face instead. Those soft cheeks, that rigid jaw bone. “How fucked up are you?” he asks, leaning back to get a better look at my face.
“You’re one to fucking smudge, you bathe in scott,” I spit, trying to steady my balance. That made less sense than I intended so I cut to the chase. “Willow! Where is she?”
The room goes lopsided and before I stumble again, Damien’s hands come to my waist. They’re cold, but his touch feels so warm, a heat flooding through me. His scent surrounds me. Whiskey and peppermint and fuck … I want a taste so bad.
My lips come to his. It’s sloppy and messy but I want him. I want him now. He’s the only thing that can stop making me feel this pain. This emptiness. He’s always been. His hands come to my arms and he pulls me off him, gazing into my eyes. “Jo.” The way he says my name sounds pitiful but it only makes me want to kiss him again. I pucker my lips but he pulls back, laughter erupting around us. “Go home, Jo.”
He tries to steady me but I push him back, his words hitting me like a giant bag of dicks and again, my hand goes flying. I want him to hurt as much as he’s making me hurt. I want him to feel the pain but he catches my hand, pulling me in close. “Get the fuck out of here, Medusa, before you embarrass yourself.”
“Too late!” Georgina’s voice comes from the crowd. She steps forward in a dress that looks like a toga, her phone pointed at us. But she’s not the only one with her phone out. The entire party is getting this altercation on video, and as usual, I’m the goddamn star. Well, a very drunk version of me anyway. “It’ll be easy to commit this pathetic display to memory. Say hi to QuickTok.”
I lunge at her, but Damien stops me and I hate him even more. He’ll always take after them. He always does. “I mean it, Rowland,” he growls in my ear, holding me from smashing Georgina’s face in, my back to his chest. “I’m getting you a ride.”
Fighting out of his grip, I almost topple again when I get loose. “It’s fine!” I walk, nope, stumble towards the end of the hall. There’s another staircase back here and it’ll save me from walking through the hoard of gawkers at the front of the party. That’s when I see the staircase for the roof.
Jasper flashes in my mind, the way he had my sister with his grimy hands all over her. I hold onto the wall before I start climbing the steps hardly thinking this through. When I push open the door to the roof, I spot Willow right away. She’s there with Bella and Jordan, drinking coolers as they lean over the railing. Their heads whip towards me when the door makes a BANG!
“Jo?” WIllow’s shoulders drop when she sees me, leaning back from the rail. She doesn’t look surprised and when I see the phone in her hand, I know why. “I can’t believe you followed me! You’re so drunk right now!”
“Believe it!” I yell but goddamn, it’s still a slur. “L-let’s go. I’m calling Uber.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Willow confirms. Jordan and Bella on either side of her like she’s starring in a film with her squad by her side. It reminds me of Allie and Nate, more relationships I brought to the ground.
“Yes, you are!” I reach for her, surprised at my brute force when I grab her soft arm. She snatches it away and my hold slips. And fuck, I’m going down with it.
“Ew,” Bella’s voice is an extra added insult to injury when I hit the floor. “This is woeful. I’m so sorry she’s your sister, Low. Please tell me you’re staying.”
“I’m not going anywhere with her!” she yells, the smell of cherry vodka coming off her breath. “Go home, Jo! You’re not the boss of me anymore and no one wants you here.” Her words cut like fucking glass.
“N-not even you?” The question slips out as I look up at her, a cold curl falling in front of my eye. I’m starting to feel more pathetic by the minute.
She turns around, putting the bottle on the ground before blinking at me on her way to the door. Her expression softens, shoulders dropping with it. “Just … go home.” I glance at Jordan and he looks away. Bella gives me a look like I’m a lost puppy before they exit through the door.
The door clicks shut and I’m left out on the cold rooftop. Alone.
Thanks to the alcohol, I’m too drunk for the winter’s night air to make me too cold. Picking up the bottle, I walk to where they stood, taking a long, burning swig. I’m not sure where the bottle I came with went so this will have to do.
No one wants you here.
Her words make me flinch when they replay in my head. She’s my little sister and she doesn’t even need me. Leaning over the rail, I take another swig, the cold air on my face, the grass blurring below. Blending cherry vodka with bourbon isn’t exactly a great mix but right now I need anything that’ll dull the pain.
Anything that’ll make me feel free.
A tear falls from my eye before I even realize I’m crying, and I watch as it disappears into the air, making its way to the floor.
I want to disappear like that tear.
Like my parents.
Like Sebastien.
They don’t have to deal with this shit anymore. They don’t have to deal with the pain, the hurt, the disappointment.
I want to be free.
Taking another swig, I look over the railing as it begins to snow. I do my best to climb on the ledge, but I’m wobbly, my legs betraying my mind when I try to level out.
“Is that Jo?” Someone calls from the front yard but I can’t see them. I’m staring up at the stars, my mind slipping to my parents. The lump in my throat grows. I wonder what my parents saw that night. Before their lives burned away forever. After taking another swig of vodka, I let the bottle hang between my fingers but it slips.
“Fuck,” I mutter as it hits the railing, toppling over to the ground below.
SMASH!
The sound is distant as I swallow on the vile spit in my mouth, realizing how far it’s gone. It’s a long way down. But it’s short. One short fall to freedom.
Willow’s good now.
She’ll be okay.
She doesn’t need me and my shitty grades and my illegal money to get her anywhere. She’s found her voice and she’ll be fine on her own. Taking a deep breath, the world around me becomes a dark blur.
“Jo!” The sound of his voice makes me stiffen.
BANG!
The slam of the door startles me to another teeter but this time I can’t level out. My right boot slips before the sky tilts.
I’m losing my balance.
I’m flying.
Twenty-Four
I want to be free.
I want to escape.
I want out.
But regret is quick.
I’m floating through the air, the stars and moon above me, and for some reason, it feels like I’m going up. I don’t hear the screams, I don’t hear the yells. It’s a muffle to this soundtrack, my parents in my head. I even hear Hendrix playing in the background, welcoming me to peace.
“Jo!”
His voice cuts through and something stops me from my fall, my arm suspended in the air.
Am I floating?
Am I dead?
The sound comes back to me in a whoosh and when I look down, the concrete is still far away. Looking up, Damien’s looking down at me, an expression I don’t recognize on his red face. It’s tense yet frantic. Worry? Desperation?
“Hang on!” he yells. “And for fucks sake, don’t let go!” There’s a shake in his voice, one I’ve never heard before, his grip tight around my arm in my jacket.
The leather slips in his hold and his face fills with determination. I’m scared shitless, but the only thing I can do to put myself at peace is to look in those eyes. “Don’t you fucking let go, Jo!” he repeats before his voice cracks. “Please, just fucking hold on! I’m not letting you go! I’m never letting you go!”
If I died right now, at this moment, at least I know he tr
ied. At least it’s with him looking at me like I’m his whole world. Thing is, I don’t want to leave it if he’s in it.
There’s a hard pull and I’m slipping even more before Christian appears behind him. Then I’m flying over the rail before I’m slamming onto Damien’s chest.
People are around us but I don’t register who. Cold hands come to my round cheeks, squishing my face, forcing me to look into that kaleidoscope gaze. “What the fuck?” Damien asks and I can feel his heart thumping against his chest, mine beating with it. He pats over my body. I’m not sure what he’s looking for before he pulls up my sleeve, looking at my wrists. “What the fuck were you doing?”
“I-I almost—” Speaking’s no use, I’m much too shaken. Much too fucked up. What the fuck was I doing?
“Fuck, Jo.” Damien searches my eyes for an explanation and I don’t know if he finds it before he pulls me into his arms. Pressing me against his chest. “Don’t fucking scare me like that again. You jumped? What the fuck were you thinking? I can’t fucking lose you, Jo!”
It’s like a sudden burst of sobriety. “I—” My voice shakes, my body shaking with it.
“Get the fuck out!” He calls around him. “Everyone. Get the fuck out, now!”
The music shuts off before the sound of a scrambling crowd follows.
“King?” A girl’s voice comes from behind him.
He screams in response, “Get. The. Fuck. Out!”
With my ear to his chest, his heartbeat thumping into my head. I’m warm. At home before the world goes black.
* * *
Opening my eyes, my head aches.
So does my body.
A warm chest presses against my ear, heartbeat thudding to a rhythm, a long, muscular arm around me.
The room is dark. Black.
And the smell … familiar.
Peppermint. Whiskey.
Damien.
I stay there for a few minutes, pressed into his hold before my stomach gurgles.
Fuck. My body hurts like absolute hell, but it doesn’t feel like I’m there for once, Damien’s body engulfing me.
My stomach gurgles again, a burp escaping my lips and I know what’s coming next. My stir makes his heavy breathing stop, his arm tightening around me when I lift the thick black comforter off my body. I’m in a t-shirt. It’s big but smells like him.
A deep, croaky voice fills the room, “Where do you think you’re going?” He pulls at the shirt, settling me back into his hold and I’ll admit, it’s a task to try to get out of it. Not because I’m suffering from a massive hangover, but because I’m not sure if I’ll ever get to feel like this again. “You’re not leaving my sight, Rowland.” He sits up, a finger under my chin as he tilts my head towards him. “I mean that.”
My stomach does a flip, my eyes positioned on his and I’m unsure of what to say before … Oh no. Here it comes.
Damien’s brows lower before his eyes widen and he reaches to the other side of his bed, sticking a black pale in front of me. And it all comes out. The bucket already smells like two-month-old chilli and it tells me this isn’t the first time we’ve used this.
“You can keep that,” he says. “You’ve been blowing chunks in it all night.”
Hearing his words makes me want to hurl some more and I do, the sounds of a demon ringing through the room. He chuckles and when it sounds like I got it all out, he pulls me right back.
“Damien, wh—”
He cuts me off, pressing his lips to mine in a soft, tender kiss. He leaves it with a bite of my lip and my stomach stirs like a blender again. Pressing his head to mine, his stone-y eyes peer into my head and goosebumps rise to my skin, a chill running through me. It’s easy to get a thrill looking into the eyes of the devil.
Last night is a blur. A mess in my head like the human I am today.
My friends hate me.
Willow’s pissed at me for some reason I can’t remember.
And I showed up at Damien’s house drunk off my ass.
Fuck.
Then it hits me. The image of Damien’s hands saving me before I plummet into obscurity.
“I’m so sorry,” my voice comes out like a whisper and I don’t even know what I’m apologizing about.
He shushes me before giving me one of these new tender kisses. “Jo, I’ll never let you fall. No matter how much I hurt. If you were trying to prove a point, you sure as hell did. I’m never letting you go, Jo. Last night … after my dad—” He stops himself, waiting a second before he continues, “These games are bullshit. You’re mine, and that’s that. I’m going to prove that to you until you realize I’m the only person you can trust.”
I don’t say anything, my mind whooshing through the memories. The ups. The many downs. But he goes on, “Seeing you there on that ledge …” He stops, glancing away before he meets my eyes again. “Fuck, Jo I thought you were a goner.” His finger grazes the tree trunk of my tattoo, my scar.
Oh, shit.
Shit.
Shit.
My eyes widen and it’s like he knows that I’m panicking inside. That my world is spinning upside down.
My second suicide attempt.
I don’t know what scares me more. The fact that I almost jumped to my death while on a cocktail of whiskey and vodka or the fact that I did it at Damien King’s house.
“Where’s Willow?”
Damien doesn’t hesitate to answer, “Christian took her and Bella home. She’s fine.”
My shoulders drop and my teeth unclench. At least she’s okay.
His eyes narrow, “Are you okay? Or is that something I’m going to have to watch out for? If so, I have a cage with your name on it.”
A smirk forms on my lips, even though smiling hurts my face. “Kinky.”
He growls, “Don’t rile me up, Rowland. I don’t care how pukey you are.”
“Ugh.” I look down at my clothes and I don’t even want to look at my face. “I’m a fucking mess.”
“You’re my mess.” His finger grazes my cheek again and before I know it, he’s pulling me into his lap, curling me up like a doll before he stands up.
I squeal, the room still topsy-turvy, “What are you doing?”
“I thought you’d trust me by now,” he says, his breath landing at the top of my tangled strands. “I did save your life and all.” Again.
I’ve saved him too, and his business. We’re always around when the other needs them most but damn, did it take us both dying to see that? There’s no denying that Damien King is a hero. My hero. There’s a heart inside the steely cold exterior.
He walks through his trashed room, stepping over broken glass and toppled chairs before he takes me through his bathroom door. A big square white tub sits to the side and he walks towards it, towels scattered all over the dark floor. He lowers me in like a baby in a bassinet before warm water starts flowing out of the faucet. Damien isn’t usually this soft or this careful with me, but now it’s like I’m his fragile prized possession.
I lay my head back and a bath pillow stops my head from hitting the rim. He swoops his hair out of his face, pulling the shirt off my head, my arms dangling in the air. “When I’m hungover, this is my favourite remedy,” Damien says before he bites his lip. His eyes trail over my shoulders, my dips, my chest. My body is clammy and sticky from leftover sweat and I’m sure I look like hell, but he still looks at me like he wants to eat me alive. “That’s if I can drag my ass out of bed. Dragging you in here is a hell of a lot easier.”
“Like when you’re dragging me through the mud?” I say, soothing water pooling around my naked body.
He smirks. “There she is.”
I’m giving him sass but I know the reality. Damien saved my life for what might be the fourth time? This time is the most important. I could’ve fallen off that roof like a twig. I could’ve shattered. It could’ve all been over for me but Damien was there. “I’m sorry.”
Pulling off his shirt, his hard pecs distract me, that smoot
h soft skin. He stares at me, his eyes bouncing around my body while he takes his time, pulling his grey boxers down his toned legs. He stands naked in front of me, his cock eyeing me from way too close. I remember how it feels to be inside my mouth, inside me. Like a snake exploring every crevice.
Swinging one long, muscular leg over the side of the tub, he climbs in. “What’re you—” Water splashes in my face and out the tub when he drops himself in. This tub is huge but he can hardly fit with me inside, spreading his legs out to the side for more room. That only gives a direct line right to his bobbing royal staff. “You can’t be thinking about sex.”
He smirks. “I’m always thinking about sex with you, Jo. My cock fits in your pussy like a glove but that’s not why I came in.”
“To make sure I don’t drown myself in the tub?”
He arches an eyebrow. “You thinkin’ about it?”
No. I’m already drowning in his presence. In those eyes. When I bite my lip, his brow relaxes. As if he already knows I’m bluffing.
Damn. I’ve known this guy for a short time but it’s like he knows me better than my sister. Definitely better than my parents. What would they have thought if they saw Damien? Would they see him as the threatening King of Eden? Or would they see him like I do? Strong. Dominant. Irresistible. The more time I spend with him the more I realize he lives up to the name.
“Let’s talk game,” he says. “You’re a hockey fan, right? Drooled all over Hugo Perez in his heyday?”
My brows furrow, “Did Christ—”
“What if we lowered our defences? Allocated more efforts to training our offence but together we’ll be the strongest team in the east. The world. ” My mouth opens and closes like a fish and I hate that I’m at a loss for words. “Seeing you on that ledge forced me to imagine things without you. Again. You’re stubborn, impulsive and you don’t give a fuck about listening to anyone … ”
Nudging him with my toe, I purse my lips, splashing some water his way. “Please,” I’m giving him a six-layer cake of sarcasm. “Do go on.”