by L. J. Woods
I hear a couple of hollers from whoever’s around us but it’s all a blur, my lips and my eyes on the King. My King.
“Ugh. Are they back together?”
“He’s never done that to anyone.”
“What’s so special about her?”
The voices of snobby girls only make me pull my arms around him because he’s mine as much as I’m his.
“Ew,” Nate’s voice comes from behind and he brushes my backpack as he walks away.
Guess he got word of my altercation with Allie.
Damien tries to hide his laugh as he lowers me to the ground, but I see it. He speaks first, “Quinfrey and Allie still upset with you?”
“Oh, you couldn’t tell?” I say, trying my best to make light of the situation. Now that I’m done with this project, I have the mind-space to try to mend whatever relationship I have left with my friends. For now, I brush it off, pulling on his shirt for more of his sweet toxin. Those lips. “I’ll talk to them later.”
“Mhm.” He pulls me in for another kiss, pulling me to the side of the steps where he usually stands with his crew and I can’t help but think this is our new spot. “Wait, you gotta tell me how you did. On your Picasso shit.”
Talking art is one of the only things that’ll get me to pull away from him now. “My art project? Is that why you’re here?”
He brings his mouth to my ear, his voice rumbling through my insides. “If you make me admit that I’ll have to punish you.” Damien takes a soft bite out of my lobe before he pulls back. It’s better he does because the longer we stand here with his arms tight around me, the harder it is not to have my way with him in his front seat. “Besides showing you and this school I mean business, I already had a meeting with Beckett.”
My face gets warm, turned on by his grand gesture but I don’t miss the end of that sentence. Narrowing my eyes, I meet his gaze but I can’t read it. “Beckett? For what?”
“Tell me how you did.” He nibbles on my bottom lip and it’s fireworks in my core again. I’m not usually the type to hang out canoodling with my boyfriend in front of the school, but with him, it’s different. “C’mon, Rowland. Tell me. Don’t make me ask again.” My cheeks fill with air trying to keep him from the truth. I want to fuck with him but it’s hard to fight the perma-smile that’s been on my face since I walked out of Clara’s classroom. He already knows me too well, a smile spreading across his face. “You did it,” he says.
“Of course, I did it,” I smile. “Just call me Warhol ‘cause I got an A-plus.”
His lips smash into mine again, his hand coming to my ass and he gives it a squeeze before his mouth lands on my ear. “If I didn’t have business to get to, I’d celebrate with you right here. Bent right over my hood, with my cock up your ass.”
I bite my lip and with the way I’m feeling, I want to take him up on his offer. “More business?”
“I’m driving you home but then I gotta head out. I’ll be back at the usual time.” We’re talking like we live together and it feels like we do. I’ve been using the key he gave me and while I haven’t officially accepted yet, I might as well.
“Where do you go every day?”
“I thought you said you trust me.” I can feel his fingers between my legs, his gaze meeting mine as he backs me against the wall. The same one that started it all.
“I do.” Wiggling my toes in my boots I can’t fight my curiosity. “That doesn’t mean I can’t ask questions.”
“If you trust me there shouldn’t be a need to ask questions.” The air’s cold between my folds when he tugs on my thong. I’ve been switching it up, knowing his hands like to wander.
I gasp, his fingers finding how wet I already am. Pushing the words out, I see him smirk. “I’m curious.”
“Don’t you know?” His fingers slide across my clit in that teasing swirl that makes my knees buckle. “Curiosity killed the cat.” And fuck, his distraction is working, his fingers plunging inside me. Students walk around us but he doesn’t give a fuck. Never does.
“Damien.” My head falls on his shoulder, my teeth sinking into the leather of his jacket so I don’t let out a scream right here.
“Yes?” He lifts my chin so I can look at him and I’m biting my lip so hard I taste copper. “Look at me and act like we’re having a conversation. You don’t want to get caught being a bad girl on school property. Not after your A-plus, do you?”
When he pulls out his fingers, I catch my breath, nodding so this pleasure rollercoaster doesn’t come to an end. But as soon as I do, he pushes his fingers deep inside me, a whimper escaping my lips. “Now tell me. Do you wanna come on my fingers?” He curls them in a way that he knows drives me insane, pumping them inside me while I’m staring into his eyes. They catch the sun, the blue bright, the grey smouldering. “Or do you wanna come on my cock?” On his last word, he pushes his hard bulge against me, his palm slapping against my clit.
This feels good but he feels better and Damien inside me would put a giant cherry on this sundae. “Your cock.” I moan against his lips, wanting to taste the mint off his tongue again.
He pulls his finger out before pushing them right back in. “What was that? Say it louder, I can’t hear you.”
So I meet his challenge, finding it way too easy to shout, “I wanna come on your cock!” He stops, and I smirk, his eyebrows reaching his head before he returns my smirk with one of his own. “Let’s get you somewhere where only I can see you before I get us both kicked out of here.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” I tease.
“Don’t tempt me, Rowland.” With that, he’s picking me up, throwing me over his shoulder so he can make a show of tossing me in his car, claiming me like his prize. His prey. And I can’t wait for him to devour me.
Twenty-Six
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The clock sounds louder than ever. It’s taunting me in the foyer, feet away but I hear it.
Loud and fucking clear.
I’m laying on the sofa in the living room, Damien’s Kindle in my face. I’ve dug into a new book. It’s dark and sexy and kind of reminds me of us but I’ve been re-reading the last sentence for an hour. Only the lamp shines in the room, the winter evening coming all too soon. The strong wind on the window is making this massive house creepier than ever.
Damien hasn’t answered my text for the last few hours. Even when I sent him a picture of my tits, trying to steer him in the right direction. But, nada. Now that I don’t have my art project to focus on, it’s super obvious how empty this house is.
I miss Damien.
While I’ve basically shacked up with him, I’m starting to feel like a housewife, watching the clock and waiting for her husband to come home. Trying to get comfortable again on the sofa doesn’t work. Neither does another gulp of this whiskey. I thought it would liven up the space, but I’m halfway through my first glass and I feel pathetic.
A call to Allie gives me no answer. Same with Nate and when I check in with Willow, she’s busy with Bella and Jordan. Jesus, how much time do they need together? I guess people could say the same about Damien and me. If he was ever here.
Walking into the kitchen, I’m looking for a snack to be my distraction. There has to be something luxurious and delicious in these cupboards. Damien started Isobel on a new schedule and the place has been both spotless and stocked. She’s around less but damn, I hope he’s paying her well.
After a few minutes of rummaging through the cabinets, the pantry is where I find the golden treasure. Boxes of cookies, candy and chocolate sit on one shelf and I pull out one of the many boxes of Toblerone. Seems like we share a sweet tooth. Unwrapping it, I drop the wrapper into the trash, but something familiar sticks out. Something out of place.
A receipt with a name I know all too well. “Anansi’s Kitchen.”
My brows furrow, scanning over the words on the receipt while I take a bite of the bar. I swallow hard on the glob of chocolate in my throat. It looks like a receipt
for a meal for one. Jerk chicken, rice and a soda. But it’s the date that hits me. This is from only a few days ago.
Backing away from the trash, I stare at the receipt. I’m trying to make sense of it, pacing back and forth in the pantry. There has to be an explanation.
Is Isobel from The Grove? That has to be it. It’s crazy to think Damien’s up to no good and I’m supposed to be trusting him. Glancing back into the kitchen, I move towards the pantry door.
But what’s a few questions?
Heading to the phone hanging off the kitchen wall, I exhale. Isobel’s number is stuck to it and I give it a dial. She picks up after the second ring and I wait for her to say a greeting. It sounds rowdy in the background, like a sports game. “Yes, Mister Damien? Is everything okay?”
“Isobel? It’s me, Jo.”
“Yes?”
“This might sound like a weird question but, I’m from Glendale Grove and I was wondering if you were too?”
“No. I am from Poland.” She lowers her voice, “Why do you ask?”
“Have you been there recently? To The Grove?”
“Oh no, people from Eden say it is a bad place. Why? Do you need something from Glendale?”
Fuck. “No. No, it’s okay.” Shaking my head, my finger hovers over the button. “Nevermind, enjoy your night.” I rush off the phone, my brain spinning, my head with it before I’m reaching for my phone to call Damien again.
No answer.
Trying to tell myself not to panic is redundant because I’m already panicking.
Pacing the kitchen, I tap a sandy brown finger against my cheek, repeating the mantra, “Don’t freak out.” This is exactly the kind of thing Damien would expect from someone who doesn’t trust him and I do trust him. At least I think I do.
So why is there a gut-feeling that something’s off?
The minutes go by like a snail. Every second feels like an hour. The next hour feels like a lifetime. What if Damien did get to The Grove and he’s in trouble? No one knows those streets like I do. Besides, what else have I got to do? Zane’s not out to get me anymore.
Grabbing my jacket off the front staircase, I pull it over my hoodie and black leggings. After ensuring I have enough money in my backpack, I sling it over my shoulders. Picking up my phone, I give Damien one last call before I solidify my position.
My hand on the door, I stop in my tracks.
Shit. Willow.
She’d kill me if I went back to The Grove and didn’t tell her. So I shoot her a text, hoping she’s way too distracted by her rich friends to care or notice and head out the door. The minute my face hits the cold winter air, my phone chimes.
Willow: The Grove???
I’m texting her back a quick explanation when she texts back first.
Willow: I’m coming!
Then another.
Willow: Be there in 10.
My shoulders drop and I give her a call. She picks up on the first ring, “Don’t try to talk me out of it.”
“When did you get so bossy?” I ask with a healthy mixture of annoyance and pride.
“I learn from the best. If you’re going back to The Grove, I’m coming too.”
“I don’t want you coming.”
“Why? Cause it’s dangerous? If it’s so dangerous why are you going?” she asks. “Every time you go on one of your little missions, something bad happens. So, you might need an escort and besides Damien, I’m the only one you can trust.”
Damn. Eden Gardens has given her a lot of mouth. I can’t decide if that’s good or bad.
“Fine. If you’re not here in ten, I’m leaving,” I promise.
Willow agrees and I sit on the steps, digging in my pockets for my beanie while I wait for her to show up so we can take this little adventure. I’m not sure what’s in store but at least my sister is by my side. Exactly where she should be.
* * *
Low insists we take an Uber to Glendale.
When I tell her that’s way too much for us to afford, she tells me she’s been using Bella’s Uber account.
Clever. Not like the Quinfreys will miss the money.
It’s around dinner time when we arrive, using the drive to fill Willow in on my worries. She reassures me it will all be fine which makes me even more grateful she came along.
The smell of burning tires hits my nose when we open our door. While Glendale feels as familiar as these boots, it doesn’t feel like home. Not anymore.
“Where do we start?” Willow asks.
“Anansi’s,” I respond.
“Oh! Miss Anita might have her patties out!” I’m happy for Willow’s excitement. For making this trip feel normal. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was dreading the outcome. Nothing good ever comes out of being in The Grove.
Damien’s not at Anansi’s Kitchen, but Willow gets that patty she’s craving. It helps keep her spirits up while we wander our old Glendale paths, our eyes out for Damien or his car. But after some time walking down the sidewalk lit up by bars, money-lending businesses and barbershops, we still haven’t seen him anywhere.
“Is he really out here?” Willow asks, pulling her plaid coat around her. She tugs on her yellow hat before she wraps her matching scarf tighter around her neck. “Or are you freaking out because you’re in love with him?”
I stop in my tracks. “What?” My heart thumps against my chest.
She laughs through chattering teeth, “Oh, p-please. It’s obvious. You’re t-trying to find excuses not to go along with t-this.”
I look down at her, unable to hide my smile. It’s like she’s become a whole different person in a few months. “Pft, what do you know?”
“I’m just saying.” Willow pushes her hand in her pockets, moving her head to the side so her hair moves out her face. “I know you. And the only people you hunt down like this is someone you’re in love with. R-remember when we spent all day looking for Zane when he didn’t c-come home that night?” She chatters again, bouncing in her white boots.
Shaking my head, I look at the path ahead, refusing to entertain my sister’s thoughts. The library is only another block. A great place to warm-up and consider what the fuck my sister’s saying.
Am I here because I think he’s doing something sketchy? Or because I’m so worried I couldn’t resist looking for him myself? “Okay, Shakespeare. C’mon,” I say, pointing my chin towards the library sign. “Let’s get warmed up.”
Miss Angela sits in her usual spot behind the administration counter when we step into the library. The heat feels like a warm blanket as I rub my hands together. Willow stays close to my side as we make our way in, our boots dragging along the dull carpet.
A huge smile spreads across Miss Angela’s face, “Jo! How nice to see you again! And you brought your sister.”
“Hi, Miss Angela,” Willow greets with a wide glossy smile.
“It’s cold outside so we thought we’d step in and warm up,” I explain.
“Well, you’re most welcome.” Miss Angela leans over her desk in a raspberry blazer and matching lipstick, crow’s feet on full display with her cheesy grin. Her glasses hang off the gold chain on her neck as she eyes my sister’s outfit and I know what she’s thinking. It’s a long way from our usual attire of hand-me-downs and thrift store finds.
“Might as well visit while it’s here, right?” I shrug, my body feeling warmer by the minute.
Her brows furrow before her smile grows wider. “Oh! Right! I’ve got great news!” she exclaims, her hands clapping together. “The library might not be going away, after all!”
“What? For real?” I ask and when she nods I can hardly believe it. I thought this place was a goner, along with my childhood. “Wow! What changed?”
“Thank you so much for your time, Mr. Fitzgerald.”
A familiar voice booms from the brown office door behind Miss Angela.
“You won’t regret this decision.”
My brows lower, eyes narrowing. A very familiar voice. “Da
mien?” His name falls out of my mouth.
“Yes! You know him?” Miss Angela asks as the door behind her opens. “He’s a knight to our rescue!”
On cue, Damien comes out from the door looking like the boss he is. He’s in a black dress-shirt that clings to his frame, matching slacks and oxfords, coat hanging off his shoulders like a runway model. He looks dressed to tackle business in that chilling Damien demeanour. When he looks up, he looks as confused to see me as I am to see him. A couple of men in business suits come out behind him and they all shake hands while Miss Angela whips her head back and forth between us.
“I look forward to this project with you, Mr. King,” one of the older men says before they head towards the door. He smiles our way and Miss Angela gives him a wave. Damien doesn’t say anything until they’re both gone. I cross my arms, my eyes on him.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, his eyes moving from Willow to me.
“Me?” I ask in return. “What are you doing here?”
My mind starts to race, the lines in Miss Angela’s forehead deepening before she says, “Of course, you two know each other. You’re both the stars of this library. My stars.”
“What?” Willow sounds like a zoned-out stoner, trying to piece this all together.
Miss Angela explains, “I thought this place was gone when we sold it to King Financial but they had bigger plans in-store. The renovations are a great idea!”
Wait. “You’re buying the library?” My head drops to the side, hair falling on my lip.
A smirk comes across his face. “We should talk.”
“You think?” I fire back.
Willow pipes up, “I know a place!”