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“Why was Damon arrested?”
His brow arches, the look so arrogant, I can’t help the flutter in my heart.
This man draws something out of me that isn’t safe. That I can’t control. He teases it out with a crooked finger so easily that I want to hate him for affecting me this way.
“Why do you think?”
“Fighting,” I correctly guess because there is no other answer when it comes to the twins.
“Did he say why? Is he hurt?”
Memories roll through his eyes, most likely of all the times I demanded to inspect their injuries when they came back to school cut and bruised.
“I’m sure the other seven guys look worse,” he grumbles as he runs a hand through his hair.
Seven? I’ve always known Damon was nuts, but… “All on his own?”
Another grumble, his nostrils flaring with a deep exhale.
“Shane was with him.”
Ah, well.
Sadly, that explains a lot.
“And all he told me is he kissed you after coming over here to find out why you left us.”
Running his thumb over his bottom lip, Ezra tips those amber eyes down to me.
“I found that to be insanely interesting. Especially after what happened a long time ago. Maybe Mason is right that you’re up to your old tricks.”
Oh, hell no.
He can fuck right off with that shit.
I wasn’t the one who started this.
My temper flares suddenly, and I can’t help that I’m yelling.
“You can get the hell out of my house if you’re only here to throw that crap in my face. We had a deal a long time ago, if you recall. And what happened just recently was also started by you. Not me. I remember saying it was a really stupid idea.”
I step forward, but really I have no idea why. He’s twice my size, so I’m woefully lacking any hope of intimidating him.
He must realize I’m stuck in place without any way to show him just how pissed off I am because his grin stretches wide again, a dimple indenting his cheek.
“Easy there, killer. I didn’t come here to fight.” He glances down at my hands and chuckles. “You can put your little fists away.”
I look down at my hands and relax my fingers. They’d been balled so hard that my nails had carved half-moon dents into my skin.
It’s not my fault, though.
He does this to me.
People think his violence is only the fights he gets in, the physical savagery that leaves everybody bruised and bleeding. But what most don’t understand is the violence - the sheerdestruction- he can pull out of everybody around him. The internal battles he causes that shred you apart until you’re left in a shattered heap.
I could swallow razor blades and glass shards and the damage wouldn’t be even close to comparable to what Ezra can do to me with just one look, one touch, one reminder of what we used to be and what weshouldhave been if circumstances had been different.
That’s the truth of his violence.