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“How did you know where to find me?” I ask, my voice small and uncertain.
He offers me a half-smile. “It was the most obvious answer, Alexis. The Carter home is the only place you’ve ever known as home. Of course you would go back there.”
Damian’s expression then grows serious. “But why the hell did you leave in the first place? Why didn’t you talk to me?”
I feel a twinge of embarrassment wash over me. In the aftermath of the Carter house incident, my little “temper tantrum” feels utterly unwarranted. Averting my gaze, I confess, “I… I felt pushed aside when you chose Scarlett over me. Especially after she tried to stab me.”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “Alexis, Scarlett means nothing to me. I was trying to protect you. She’s unstable and dangerous. My priority was getting you to safety, making sure she didn’t uncover who you really are.”
I blink up at him, the weight of his words sinking in. Nat was right.
“You were trying to protect me?” I whisper, suddenly feeling foolish.
“What do you think I’ve been trying to do this entire time?” Damian asks, exasperation clear in his voice. “I’ve not been putting my ass at risk for no good reason.”
I don’t know what to say to that, but I now feel the weight of the day’s events still hanging heavily on my shoulders. “I need to shower,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. “I still feel so… disgusting.”
Damian nods in understanding, helping me to my feet. “I know the feeling. It took me weeks to feel clean again after my first kill.” His gaze grows distant, as if he can still feel the phantom trace of blood on his hands.
“How old were you?” I ask, unsure whether I really want to know the answer.
Damian studies me for a long moment, his dark eyes probing. “Twelve,” he says quietly.
Twelve. The realization hits me like a punch to the gut, my horror palpable. To think he had taken a life at such a young age…
Damian senses my distress, shrugging, “It’s a weight no child should have to bear. But this life… it demands sacrifices.”
In that moment, I feel impossibly small, my own trauma paling in comparison to the scars Damian must bear.
As I step into the shower, the image of Mark’s shocked expression flashes in my mind, the sound of the gunshot still ringing in my ears. I can feel the gun recoil in my hand, the warm spray of blood against my skin.
I let the scalding water cascade over me, but no matter how hard I scrub, I can’t wash away the remnants of what I had done. The sobs come anew, my body shaking as I claw at my flesh, desperate to shed the taint of violence.
Suddenly, Damian is there, pulling me into his embrace, his own body slick with water. I lean against him, craving the comfort and security he offers. Without a word, I reach up, my lips finding his in a desperate, searing kiss.
I need to forget, to lose myself in the sensation of his touch, to drown out the echoes of that fateful moment. Damian responds eagerly, his hands roaming over my curves as he pulls me impossibly closer.
In his arms, I feel a glimpse of peace, a fleeting respite from the horrors that haunt me. For now, I can simply be, without the weight of the world crushing down upon me. Damian is my anchor, my salvation in the midst of the storm.
As our kiss deepens, I pour every ounce of my anguish and longing into it, silently begging him to take it all away.
Damian’s wet hands curl under my ass, and he lifts me up in one fell swoop, pressing me against the wall. I moan as Damian’s mouth finds my neck and he thrusts roughly against me, his hard dick rubbing against my pussy in the most delicious way.
“Fuck, Damian!” I gasp, clutching onto his hair.
Damian chuckles and enters me, both of us moaning as he fills me. I wrap my legs tighter around his waist, trying to bring him as close to me as possible.
As our lips meet again in a languid kiss, the world narrows to just the two of us—a private sanctuary amid the chaos. Hands roam reverently, relearning the curves and planes we have committed to memory, rediscovering the nuances of each other's body.
There’s an unhurried cadence to our movements, a gentle ebb and flow as we surrender to the pull of desire. I completely forget what has happened in the last twenty-four hours as I give in to just feeling. The feel of Damian’s cock thrusting in and out of me is all I can focus on, the sounds of his ragged breathing filling my ear and the feel of the hot water spraying on me keeping me grounded.
“Fuck, Alexis,” Damian rasps out. “I’m going to come.”
I tighten my legs around him in response and move my hips in time with his, wanting to get him to jump off that cliff.
Damian groans loudly, his thrusts becoming shallower and sloppier as he speeds toward his release, emptying his seed inside me. I can feel my own orgasm building, and I cry out, feeling that delicious pressure rise, rise, rise before it crests and I feel euphoric, riding a wave of bliss and pleasure.
As Damian helps me get down, my legs trembling from the force of my orgasm, I think I detect a faint murmur from him—a whispered confession of love. However, the rush of sound in my ears from the water and the intensity of the moment make me unsure whether I had truly heard the words.
