KNIGHT: A Dark High School Bully Romance

by L. J. Woods

  * * *

  “Why didn’t you just tell me?” I ask.

  We’re back at Anansi’s Kitchen, amidst the dinner rush and it feels surreal to have Damien here beside me, my sister across from us. Damien treats us to a full meal, giving Miss Anita a giant tip that has her gushing about her new favourite client. It’s easy to make friends in The Grove if you have money.

  While Damien gets some looks from other patrons, he doesn’t seem bothered. Doesn’t try to act like he’s the King here either. It’s like something’s shifted, this news being the cherry on the pie.

  “Didn’t know it was going to be a sure thing until today,” he says. “They were skeptical about letting me take over the plans. Which is fair. But when I found out that that library is a historic place, I knew there’d be more money in it. We can preserve some of that history while marketing it as a highlight.” He rambles on about the plans he has for the library and as he does, he’s sounding more ready for this job than I ever thought.

  “It’ll help The Grove,” he continues, his fork digging into a pile of curried rice. I’m also impressed that he’s been downing this Caribbean meal like he’s accustomed to it. “Especially if we turn the back rooms into an auditorium, introduce a small cafe. There’ll be plenty more to see beyond books and the library can create some more revenue.”

  “Wow,” is all I can say, my hand around a pineapple soda.

  My sister giggles across from us and it’s hard not to nudge her with my foot because I know what she’s thinking. Her laugh sounds stifled when she says, “She’s so in love with you.”

  Damien chokes on the ginger soda by his lips, brown liquid spurting onto the small square table. Willow’s eyes double in size and I reach over to see if he’s okay. Damien waves me off, Miss Anita coming over with a pitcher of water.

  “You alright, darlen’?” she asks, patting him on his back like he’s one of her children.

  He reaches for the glass. “Wrong tube.”

  “White bwoy cyaan handle likkle spice,” she says in patois with a wink at me. Before she leaves, she gives him one more pat, turning to the kitchen. Willow giggles as he takes a chug of water.

  “What did she say?” he asks, glancing back at the kitchen with a sexy little half-smirk.

  But I change the topic. “What do you think of the food?” Willow gets a harder kick from me under the table and she stuffs a spoonful of rice in her mouth.

  Damien smiles, meeting my eyes as if he’s searching them for an answer. We both know neither of us is forthcoming with our feelings and discussing how we feel in the middle of a crowded restaurant isn’t the best idea. “It’s pretty fucking amazing, I’ve been eating here all week.” He leans back in his chair, an arm swooping behind me. “You grew up with this stuff?”

  Nodding, it’s hard not to cozy up to him. “Mhm. My dad’s Jamaican. Was.”

  “Irish mom,” Willow informs with a full mouth.

  His eyes narrow, moving to the watch on my wrist, my palm on my chin before he meets my gaze again. “There’s a lot we’re still learning about each other, huh?”

  “Mhm.” It’s kind of scary. This connection we have. It’s all-consuming yet there’s still so much to discover.

  “You two should go for a walk,” Willow pipes up again. “You know, show Damien more of our old home. Our rags to riches story.”

  Is she wing-manning me? Wing-womaning? “It’s cold,” I say, glancing at her. There’s no way I’m leaving her alone in The Grove.

  “He’ll keep you warm,” she counters. “You want to go for a walk with her, right Damien?”

  God, she sounds like one of Lea’s minions, trying to thwart a position in her favour. What’s her plan here?

  “A walk sounds enlightening,” he says, his hand coming to my thigh. “I’ll keep her warm.”

  “Oh, will you?” I ask, already lost in his icy-hot touch.

  His voice lowers into the growl of a sex god. “Do I have to prove that?”

  “Ew.” Willow pulls the rest of our meals towards her. “I’ll be fine here. Now, go. Please. For my sake.”

  “Fine,” I give in, wiping my bare lips with a napkin. “Let me show you around.”

  After making sure Willow’s okay, Damien and I bundle up and take a stroll around my old hometown. This is even more surreal than sitting in Anansi’s. I never imagined things would turn out this way. Never thought my parents would be gone. Never thought I’d be dating Damien King, one of the richest guys on the east coast.

  Damien and I walk by my old elementary school, my old high school, and the diner I used to work at. All the while, I’m filling him in on our little tricks and schemes that the guys and I used to get money. I show him where I got that little scratch under my ass from hopping a fence and where I even had my first kiss.

  “In an alley?” he asks.

  “Sorry we’re not all so privileged to have our first kiss in a pool filled with melted gold,” I say. “Or angels carrying harps playing Marvin Gaye.”

  That gets me his rolling chuckle, deep and piercing. “I had my first kiss behind my elementary school but in an alley … that’s very—”

  “What? Trashy?” I’m defensive and I don’t know why. Blame the weeks of having rich assholes bully me.

  “You,” he says. “It’s very you.” The way he bites his lip makes me think that this is a good thing. “Should we reenact that?”

  I snort, “My first kiss?” He looks down the alleyway, nothing but a light shining on a dumpster, cardboard on the ground. It’s empty. Dark. And I’m sure it creates the perfect wind-tunnel. “Here?”

  He leans into my ear, “Yeah, here.” I give him a look before he takes my hand, leading me down the alley.

  “You jealous that someone else kissed me here first?” I ask before poking my tongue through my lips. “You want to mark your territory?”

  He smirks, leading me past the light before my back presses against the wall, “Yeah, I do.”

  Twenty-Seven

  “Is there a problem with that, Rowland?”

  Damien’s finger trails down my thigh and even in the chilly air, it sends hot tingles firing through me. He’s using that voice he knows I like and it isn’t helping my protest. Neither is his hand slipping into the front of my jeans.

  He slides it down until his finger reaches my folds, pressing it against my swollen nub. He smirks and I know why. “You’re already wet. So I doubt there’s a problem here.”

  “Wait,” I say, his lips brushing mine. “Your car is one thing, but we can get in serious trouble here.”

  He smirks again. “You know that’s half the fun.” His fingers rub my clit and when I let out a moan, that’s enough for him to push a finger inside me. The feeling of his cold long finger feels amazing and when his hand presses against my clit, I’m a goner.

  Taking a step back, he looks at my face, like he’s studying it into memory. I know the drill, looking into his eyes as he makes me his with every move of his finger. He plays me like his favourite instrument, one he’s perfected and I don’t want him to stop. With another look down the alley I reach for his pants and he lets me, his girth already thick and hard inside.

  “Fuck, Rowland, I want you so bad,” he groans when I take his warm length in my hands. Our bodies close together, lips on each other makes it easy to stay warm. “And I’m going to have you. Right here.” Flipping me around my chest hits the brick before cold air whooshes over my ass. He pulls on my hair and I know the animal’s back to play.

  I fucking love this game.

  A hand comes to the soft cheek of my ass, the smack echoing in the alley. I’m not worried about standing here in public. That sound could be anything but when he slides into me, his cock filling every inch, the moan I let out is undeniable. “Oh! God!” His hand comes to my mouth and it only drives me crazier as he thrusts hard and deep. When those hands come to my waist, I’ve already forgotten where we are. As far as I’m concerned, as far as I can feel, it’
s just me and him.

  “I can never get enough of you,” he groans, each thrust needier than the last. He pulls out, taking a second before he pushes back into me, hard and deep. “Never.”

  My breath is hot against his hand, his palm sweaty when it mixes with the cold air. He doesn’t give up when I moan against it and he keeps going. “More!” My demand land on his palm. I’m begging him not to stop. Begging him to keep going and he does.

  “That’s right, beg,” he grunts, his pace getting more frantic, his movements more relentless.

  “Harder!” I’m unleashing the fiend and he gives me what I ask until my eyes widen and I’m shivering in his arms. I reach that delicious, sweet climax, another moan escaping my lips. One he can’t hide because he’s coming too. “Don’t stop!”

  I want to feel him, his cock throbbing inside me, his hard, strong release. “Fuck!” His loud, animal-like growl gives his orgasm away, so does the explosion of warm fluid inside me. It mixes with my juices and the incredible feeling I get when it drips down my thighs has me wanting more.

  “Holy shit, Rowland,” Damien pants, turning me around to face him. His lips land on mine while he pulls up my jeans. “Let’s get you home so I can clean you up.”

  The sound of a police siren comes from the end of the alley, my eyes widening.

  Shit.

  Blue and red lights cast colourful shadows on the wall and before I can get my jeans buttoned, a light shines on us.

  “What’s going on here?” A man’s voice echoes off the alley walls. The officer won’t take his light off us but Damien’s as cool as a cucumber, stuffing himself back into his pants, fixing his hair.

  “Officer, I’m Damien King and if you don’t get that flashlight out of my face I’ll sue you for harassment.” The cop tilts his head back, laughing into the air and when he looks back at us, Damien’s holding out a wad of cash. “This is my last offer to save your career.”

  The light goes off and he approaches Damien, taking the cash and counting it.

  “Everything alright down there, McClain?” Another officer calls from the end of the alley.

  His flashlight goes off, and he scoffs before looking at us and turning around. “Yeah, some dumb kids.”

  “Fuck,” I let out a breath when I see them drive away, my heart racing from both Damien and the police. I’m not even surprised The Grove police are easy to buy off. I’ll be happy if I never have to deal with another officer again. “I thought—”

  Damien comes in front of me, cutting off my sentence with a kiss. “I told you. I got you. Always.”

  I look down at my boots before meeting his eyes, “How much did you give him?”

  “Two grand.”

  “Two grand?!”

  “Worth it,” he chuckles, kissing me again.

  We make our way down the alley, hand-in-hand before it hits me. “Wait, did you make the same deal with those detectives?” Is that why they backed off?

  He smirks, keeping his eyes on the path. “Let’s go find your sister and get you girls home before you tempt me into another round.”

  * * *

  “Where the fuck is she?” I ask, my eyes on our empty table. There’s less of a crowd inside Anansi’s but Willow’s not amongst them.

  I was on cloud nine all the way here, Damien whispering his dirty plans for me in my ear. But now, I’m filled with panic, my stomach wrenching.

  “Check the bathroom,” Damien instructs, his voice a lot calmer than mine.

  Taking a deep breath, I move down a narrow hallway to the single bathroom. Hitting my knuckles against the wood, I wait for her voice. “Willow?”

  “It’s in use!” That’s the sound of a gruff man. Not my sister.

  My heart sinks and I’m rushing back to Damien while I scan the room, noise muffling. I swallow hard before I report, the situation sinking in. “She’s not here.”

  Damien takes another look around and while it looks like he’s trying to stay calm, I see his jaw clench. “Wait here.” He moves over to the front counter, leaning into Miss Anita. Her brows lower when she glances over at our table before she shakes her head, scratching her hairnet.

  A pang hits my chest.

  A blow to my gut.

  My nails sink into my palms pushed deep into my jacket. I don’t wait for them to finish their conversation before I head outside, the cold air slapping my face, my hair in the wind. The shop isn’t big at all and I can see the kitchen from the counter so unless she’s hiding in the back office, she’s not there.

  “Low!” I call into the night. A couple walking by scoffs at me as I catch their ear but I don’t care. “Willow!” I call again, my voice more demanding. More urgent.

  “She’s not inside.” Damien appears beside me, exiting through the restaurant door. “I asked Anita to check the kitchen.” Glancing down, I notice Damien has her brown scarf in his hand and it twists my insides. “She left this, so she can’t be too far.” I hope he’s right.

  “Willow!” I call again, Damien ushering me down the sidewalk, his hand on my back. He keeps me close and that keeps me warm, but not as warm as knowing my little sister is safe.

  We check the alley behind Anansi’s before we head to the mall. Hell, we even check the train station but I don’t see my little sister anywhere. I’m antsy as fuck, biting the inside of my cheek. “She’s not picking up,” I say for the umpteenth time. I don’t know how many times I’ve called her at this point. “We can’t leave without her.”

  “We won’t,” Damien reassures, his cold hand in mine. “Even if it takes all night.”

  I hate that he says that. I’m hoping that it doesn’t.

  We spend the next couple of hours strolling around The Grove’s rocky streets and unkempt sidewalks but we still haven’t seen her.

  “I don’t get it, we were only gone for an hour,” I hear myself as we pass a rundown convenience store. Then my brain starts rifling through all the things that could’ve happened in that time. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to her while I was having “happy hour” with Damien.

  My ears are damn near frostbitten when I start pacing the sidewalks. I wasn’t prepared for this winter outing physically or emotionally. I’m shivering and it’s not only because I’m cold. I’m anxious as hell.

  “Hey.” Damien takes me between his palms rubbing my arms over my jacket. He searches my eyes and doesn’t stop turning me to him until he has my full attention. “I got this.” His voice is firm. Strong. As hard as his hold. “I’m getting us a room here, then I’m gonna find her.”

  “I’ll come with you,” I say.

  “No,” he insists. “It’ll be easier if I go alone and she needs a place to come back to if she checks her messages. Trust me. If coming here didn’t show you that you can—”

  Wait. “You know I came here for you?”

  “And that’s why I trust you,” he says, looking over his shoulder. He gestures towards a motel at the end of the street. The light flickers, “Vacancy” flashing in red. “C’mon.”

  I follow his lead and after a quick chat with the owner, Damien rents the best room this motel has, which isn’t saying much. The hotels near the airport cater to businessmen while the ones deep in The Grove cater to their extra-curricular activities.

  When we get inside, it’s exactly what I expect. Wallpaper strips off yellowing walls, stains on the vomit green carpet. The paper-like blankets on the bed look like they’re from 1990, red and odd patterned. Silver lining? It’s warmer than outside. And as Damien says, at least Willow will know where to go.

  After Damien checks the bathroom like a skilled bodyguard, he approaches me, my cheeks between his palms. His lips come crashing down on mine and my jaw softens, body loosening. Damien’s hold is the only thing that calms me and it’s as if he knows it too. He keeps his hands on my face, his striking eyes piercing through me. “If anyone even sneezes at the door that’s not me or Willow, you call me right away. Understand?”

 
; “Okay,” I nod. I’m much too emotional, much too unstable and I’m too scared to say anything else.

  He takes my hands before something cold and smooth lands in my hold. When I look down, it’s his black wallet. “All my cards are there if you need anything. I have copies on my phone.”

  Nodding, I’m scared to let go when he gives me another kiss, his lips smooth, his taste coming with a hint of the meal we shared. I take in a whiff of his smell as he heads towards the door, walking with confidence like my knight. My hero. My king. Watching his back disappear through the door, he takes a look behind him, pulling my heart out with that steely gaze. I don’t take my eyes off him until the door closes and in seconds, I’m pacing again. Questions flash in and out of my brain like a lightning storm.

  Where the fuck could Willow have gone?

  Is she in trouble?

  It’s not like Zane has anything to do with this. He’s long gone.

  After what seems like forever, headlights light up the grimy window near the door and my heartbeat quickens. After a few moments, it’s gone. I’m pacing again, checking my phone every few minutes for any sign of Damien or Willow.

  An hour goes by but it feels like forever. Every click, every shuffle and every thud makes me jump, my nerves on high alert. I need a distraction so I flick on the old TV. The news is unsettling and cartoons don’t fit the mood so I decide on an infomercial, Brazilian Butt Lifts, and flop on the bed. Looking up at the ceiling, my leg shakes while my brain plays out several scenarios, none of them good. I’m not even thinking about the stains or musty smell coming from the bed. All I’m thinking about is Willow and Damien. I have no reason to believe in a god, but right now I’m praying to anything that can hear me.

  Please bring Willow back to me.

  My phone chimes and I spring up.

  Fuck, is Jesus that efficient?

  Rushing to it, I knock over the rack thing that people put their luggage on for some reason. Nancy’s name lights up my phone and I almost throw it in frustration. Now’s not the time for her silly little demands. My eyes find Damien’s wallet, sitting on the table next to the TV. I reach for it, hoping he has something to calm me down. He always does.