Damien's Promise: A Dark Romantic Suspense (VENGEANCE Book 1)

by Vic Tyler

  I still feel guilty when I think about how suspicious I was of West when we first met. He’s opened up to me a lot since then, and he always encourages me to do my best. He’s like a teacher, friend, mentor, and confidante all in one fatherly package.

  “I just came by to say hi,” I pipe in. They never talk business around me, but that’s okay. It’s not like I’m going to work with them or I have any useful skills that they can utilize. “Did you try the oatmeal honey cookies I left for you yesterday?”

  “Delicious.” West smiles, patting his stomach with one hand and resting his other across my shoulders. “I’m going to need new pants.”

  “But they’re supposed to be healthy.” My lips tug into a grin before I warn, “As long as you don’t eat too many. Everything in moderation, West.”

  “Only Addy would dare to scold West about his diet.” Sitting off to the side of the room, Turan leans back into his chair with his hands steepled in his lap.

  “Turan!” Oops. Can’t believe I didn’t notice him.

  I run and throw my arms around him. He briefly disconnects his hands to awkwardly pat my arm.

  It’s cute how he tries.

  Pulling away, I frown. “Damien’s bullying me.”

  Turan smirks, looking much more comfortable now that I’m not touching him. “And what should we do about that?”

  Looking up thoughtfully, I tap my finger against my chin. When I glance back, Damien rolls his eyes.

  Leaning in, I whisper dramatically, “You should make him wear pink trainers while he works out.”

  Turan snorts. “You’ll have a better chance of making it happen if you ask him, Addy.”

  I shrug as I fight back a smile.

  Turan came by my school once and heard Jenny calling me ‘Addy.’ Even though no one else in the house uses that nickname, Turan hasn’t called me anything else since.

  It’s endearing. He only acts mean and uptight in front of the other deviants, but considering how he always laughs and secretly carries around candy, he really is a softie at heart.

  “Adriana.”

  Damien’s black bag flies through the air, and I scramble to catch it, grunting as it knocks the wind out of me. It’s surprisingly heavier than it looks.

  “Do me a favor, and take that to my room.”

  Even though I know it’s a not–so–subtle dismissal, my mouth drops.

  Rude.

  Damien laughs out loud, but I’m too offended to enjoy it.

  With a little stomp, I pout. “I’m not your servant!”

  I haven’t seen him in so long, and even though I’ve been planning this entire time on how to make him see me as a woman, I want him to spoil me a little. Even if it means I act like a baby and let him treat me like his kid sister.

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” Damien says breezily. “I guess I’ll have to find another servant to unpack the present I brought.”

  My ears perk up, and I stare at the bag in my hands. I don’t mean to be materialistic and greedy, but since presents are all Damien gives me, I love receiving them.

  Huffing, I try to hide my excitement. “I guess I’ll help you out this once out of the goodness of my heart.” When Damien smirks, my heartbeat skyrockets. Bolting towards the door, I call over my shoulder, “But I’m not touching your dirty laundry!”

  The Woman in Gold glints in the corner of my eye. Even though the other paintings in the house change on occasion, she’s steadfastly remained in West’s study.

  Maybe it’s just me, but nowadays, she looks a little less melancholic than she used to.

  I always think of mom and her words when I see that painting, and I’m hoping that my presence here gives the woman and West some nice company, so they don’t have to feel lonely.

  Once the door closes behind me, I sprint down the hall to the west wing and upstairs to the Twelve’s quarters.

  I can’t wait to see what Damien brought back.

  He brings back interesting little trinkets like antique arrowheads or limited–edition novelty Zippo lighters or dusty fossils from his assignments.

  It’ll be exciting to see the new addition to our little collection.

  Well, it’s more like his collection since he collects them, and I’m the curator that keeps them tidy and organized in his room.

  But the drumming in my chest and the singing in my veins isn’t because of whatever I’ll find in his bag or anything I can line on the drawer surface.

  It’s because Damien is back, and that’s the best present ever.

  chapter twenty

  When Adriana closes the door, all the warmth in the room leaves with her.

  Smiles fall from our faces as we shed our manufactured personas, straightening our postures to attention. All our communication is clipped and direct without the unnecessary lulls of intonation and emotion.

  Whether she brings out something desperately human out of us or whether we wear these masks to pretend to be human for her is something I still can’t figure out.

  Adriana is the blackjack dealer, and we’re always playing against the house.

  For one, West must be one hell of a bluffer.

  It may very well be an Oscar–worthy performance, but as much as I’m reluctant to admit it, it’d take a trickster god himself to fake that pure adoration pouring out of him when he’s with Adriana.

  I don’t want to believe it, but it has to be real.

  Launching right into business, West goes on like nothing happened. Like we didn’t just witness him acting like a normal goddamn person.

  I want to say he seems uncomfortable that we saw such a human side to him, but that might be wishful thinking.

  It’d be nice to know that the devil has a heart after all.

  Without further ado, I give my report.

  We ran into some resistance from the cartels down south, and there was some trouble from the recon end when a false report caused minor casualties in an inevitable confrontation.

  Cardinal Southwick lent us a hand and a few of his Twelve. Honestly, being around them was fucking nerve–wracking. They make the western faction look like a guppy parade.

  Kitty jumps in with her tidbit about uncovering some vital information, which allowed us to swiftly make our move and for her to return home a couple days in advance. The rest of the Twelve and the deviants who were down south with me are due to arrive within the next two days.

  I came back early because I didn’t want to loiter in Phoenix for another two days and because it was my mission to lead and report and also because…

  Because I couldn’t get Adriana’s text message from last week out of my mind.

  Adriana

  everyday without you guys here makes me feel more and more lonely. miss you

  When she says things like that, it’s frustrating.

  We’re not supposed to miss anyone. We’re not supposed to get lonely. We’re not supposed to feed into these attachments to people.

  We’re not allowed to.

  We can’t afford to.

  But that doesn’t mean we don’t.

  Lost for words, I didn’t respond to her text message.

  But as soon as it became clear that the assignment was going to wrap up nicely, I booked the first plane back home, leaving the private jet behind for everyone else to use.

  It meant trudging through an extra all–nighter on top of the two preceding it to ensure all the loose ends were tied up, but seeing Adriana’s face was worth it.

  I’ll just have to see it again in about sixteen hours once I catch up on my sleep.

  Damn, I’m fucking tired.

  “One last thing.” West’s soulless black eyes pin me to the spot. The emptiness in them is confusing. Maybe I was hallucinating his lively warmth earlier. “You’ve been chosen as the representative for the factional exchange next month.”

  I silently exhale through my nose.

  I knew this was coming, and for some reason, I hoped it wasn’t me.

  Every se
ven years, the Cardinals trade a member of their Twelve for one year as a show of good faith.

  The member of the Twelve that goes is usually a strong contender for the Cardinal title, and even if they’re not, they end up as one of the more resilient deviants.

  It’s the highest honor within the organization to learn and experience the regime under one of the other factions, strengthening bonds between the regions and diversifying capabilities.

  I’ve wanted this ever since I first joined. I shouldn’t be hesitating.

  But I’d be gone for an entire year, and these past six and a half months were difficult already.

  Everyone’s eyes are on me.

  I need to nod. I need to say yes. I need to —

  “Is there anyone else that can go?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Turan shift in his seat, displeased. His jaw is ticking, and his fists are clenched tight.

  I’m in for a rough sparring session with him later.

  I should take my question back. I should tell them I’ll go. But for some reason, I can’t. I don’t want to.

  Watching me carefully, West responds, “It’s not up for negotiation.”

  Pressing my lips together, I give a small nod.

  As soon as I do, West turns his back, and with that, our meeting is done.

  Kitty and I walk back to the Twelve’s quarters in silence.

  Once we’re halfway up the stairs in the west wing, I finally ask, “You knew?”

  “Who didn’t?” As she bounces up the steps, her hair floats behind her like satin. “It’ll be good for you.”

  My molars grind together. It’s not like I didn’t see this coming.

  The eastern faction is the largest and strongest by capital and sheer power, although ours comes in a close second.

  But their brutality, force, and bloodthirst are on an entirely different level. I’ll have to be around the most amoral and depraved people in Venti for an entire fucking year.

  Oh.

  Damn.

  The sudden realization stirs conflicting feelings in me.

  I, Damien Zephyrus of the Twelve, should be ecstatic about going. Bursting with enthusiasm. It’s an opportunity people would kill for.

  But I’m not sure if it’s worth the cost. If I go, I think I’ll have to give up what’s left of my humanity. The little bit I’ve gained back since Elena died. The little bit that Adriana’s given me.

  If anyone else knew what I was thinking, they’d laugh before conspiring to cut me down.

  Weak.

  Foolish.

  When we reach the double doors to the Twelve’s wing, Kitty suddenly grabs my shirt, yanking me forward as her lips crash into mine. Her hand slides over my pants, palming my hardening cock.

  Her lips move ferociously with fervent need, and I greedily sink into the lust thickening the air.

  It’s been a while since I got my release. Been too busy for it.

  Before I know it, her legs are wrapped around me as I pin her against the door, her wild desire catalyzing mine.

  “Adriana’s waiting inside,” I mutter between her nibbles and licks.

  I know I need to stop, but I’m so goddamn horny and exhausted.

  Ah, fuck it.

  One more minute.

  One more minute to entertain my lust before I force myself away and calm the erection in my pants before I go in and see Adriana.

  That plan goes to shit when the other door suddenly opens, and Adriana pops out, jumping when she sees us.

  Her expression fills with shock and horror.

  Fuck.

  I drop Kitty and step away, but Adriana is already running down the hall.

  Jesus, when the hell did she get so fast?

  Before I can run after her, Kitty grabs my arm.

  “Let her go.” She cocks her head with a slight smile on her face. “She’s just embarrassed.”

  Gritting my teeth, I wrench my arm away.

  She wasn’t embarrassed. Maybe a little, but she was stunned. Hurt, even.

  I don’t want her to think we took so long just because we were making out in the hall like fucking teenagers.

  “What are you going to say to her?” Kitty asks coolly.

  I freeze.

  I guess I’d apologize for making her wait. Explain that…

  That…

  I don’t even fucking know.

  Hissing out a breath, I run my hand through my hair. “She’s upset.”

  Kitty shrugs. “She just doesn’t know what to make of it. Still getting used to dealing with her school–girl crush.”

  I stare at her. I really need to sleep before anything processes in my brain. “What?”

  Arching an eyebrow, she draws closer, sliding her hand up my chest. “Come to my room.”

  I grab her wrist. “What does me explaining what she walked in —” Or out. “— on have to do with her having a crush?”

  The thought inexplicably irritates me.

  Adriana has a crush on someone? Jesus, is she at that age already?

  My head spins. Of course, she is. Some girls have boyfriends at that age. Hell, Kitty and I started fucking when I was her age.

  I don’t know why it’s never occurred to me that Adriana would think about boys like that.

  But more importantly, who?

  I rub my forehead, anxiety congesting my veins.

  He better make damn sure he treats her well. I’ll have to meet and vet him before he even thinks about taking her out on a date or whatever.

  I grimace. Oh, god, is West going to want to meet him too?

  I feel bad for the poor sucker already.

  Kitty giggles. “You’re clueless.”

  Frowning, I narrow my eyes. How the hell does she of all people even know? For some reason, I doubt Adriana would willingly tell her. “Do you know who it is?”

  Tapping her lips with a manicured finger, she winks. “I’ll tell you for a kiss.”

  I roll my eyes. Ah, fuck. I’ll get some sleep and then think about this whole thing afterwards.

  Tiptoeing, Kitty presses her lips into my neck. “Let’s finish what we started.”

  I shrug her off and walk into the common space. “Nah, I’m tired.” And this whole thing with Adriana stressed me out of being horny. “I’m going to sleep.”

  Kitty tuts in disapproval, but I give a small wave without turning back and head into my room.

  After closing the door, I beeline to the bed and fall back on it with a sigh.

  The aroma of honey and flowers and something uniquely familiar fills my lungs.

  Adriana.

  She must’ve been rolling around.

  I inhale deeply before letting the air and scent out of my lungs.

  She’s too defenseless.

  My body eases as my eyelids droop heavier with each passing second.

  It’s good to be home.

  Home sweet home.

  chapter twenty-one

  A hand suddenly appears in front of my face.

  “Addy.” Jenny waves frantically trying to get my attention. “Earth to Adriana St. Celeste.”

  Jolting out of my daze, I flash a big, fake smile. “Sorry, what?”

  “Are you okay?” She looks pointedly at me. “You’ve been out of it all day.”

  Ever since yesterday, the image of Damien and Kitty getting all hot and heavy in the hallway is all I can think about.

  I never thought it could hurt this much. My heart’s been aching for hours, and for the first time ever, I don’t want to see Damien.

  When I got Kitty’s text that they were heading up from the meeting, I was so excited to finally open the present that Damien brought.

  It was sitting in a little box, no wrapping or anything, but I wanted to wait for him before I opened it.

  When they didn’t show, taking longer than they should to reach the Twelve’s quarters, I went out to find them.

  And I found them right outside, Damien pressing Kitty up against the d
oor so passionately.

  He almost looked as shocked as me. His eyes were wide and round, cheeks flushed, and worse yet… His lips were red and moist, and I can still see how they looked against Kitty’s.

  It’s stupid to be yearning after a man who already has a girlfriend.

  It was stupider to hope he’d run after me, but of course he wouldn’t.

  To whatever Jenny said, I just grunt in response, too distracted to actually converse.

  Undeterred by my lack of enthusiasm, she huffs, “I asked if you want to go to the mall after school.”

  “No, I’m not feeling well,” I mope.

  I don’t want to walk around with all my friends and pretend to be okay.

  Wait… But if I go home, I’ll have to see Damien.

  What if he wants to talk?

  Ugh… I’m just going to mope and throw a tantrum. Even if he asks what’s wrong, I can’t answer.

  I mutter, “Actually, maybe I will.”

  Jenny’s already on her phone, texting our friends that I’m finally going out with them for once.

  Since a lot of children from affluent families attend this school, almost everyone here has their own security detail. Protection for the vulnerable blackmail bait of political figures, company executives, government officials, even some mafia families.

  But I don’t want to pose that risk for West by walking around in the open, and frankly, being around a lot of strangers still makes me anxious.

  I guess, now, being around Damien just makes me more anxious.

  After the last bell rings, I agree to meet my friends at the mall.

  When I go outside, I spot the familiar armored, tinted town car that I always ride to and from school.

  After slipping into the back seat, I pull out my cellphone and hold back a sigh.

  No new messages. Nothing from Damien.

  Drearily looking out the window, I openly sulk. “Tom, I’m going to the mall with my friends.”

  A low, familiar chuckle makes my stomach flutter and eases the painful ache in my chest.

  “Looks like I don’t have to worry about you fitting in.”

  “Damien!” His bright blue eyes twinkle in the reflection of the rearview mirror. “What are you doing here?”