Page 14

Chapter fourteen

Ashia

The Next Morning

As I open my eyes, I can feel how sore my body is. Not just from the rough sex and his ginormous penis. I had almost forgotten the haunting Domestic Violence hangover. When you're lucky enough to be alive but hating every move you make after. Where every time you move, it’s a reminder that it wasn’t just some horrible dream, and this hangover takes days, sometimes even weeks to recover. It’s not just the physical aches that hurt. It’s mental aches too. Eating away at you until there’s nothing remaining but that empty feeling.

I slowly sit up, halfway expecting there to be a large warm body next to me. When I realize I’m alone, I manage to swallow down the small blip of anxiety. Only to cringe as even the simplest of tasks like swallowing hurts my abused throat. The warm saliva running down and coating it to remind me of the horrors from last night. Allowing visions of Cooper’s hatred to flood my mind. As if my eyes weren’t already swollen from how much crying I did last night, the tears pooling in my eyes now burn even worse. I swore this would never happen again…how did it get to this point again?

The phantom pain begins. Burning and stinging searing my arm…I reach for it, allowing the warmth of my palm to soothe the aches. A subtle reminder that they’re healed, and that I'm indeed alive.

I look over at the now closed door and see Damien’s duffle bag still on the floor. He’s still here…the sweet gesture warming my chest but fogging up my mind. Why is he doing all of this for me? I muster up the strength to slowly walk into my bathroom and take a good look at myself in the mirror.

Purple and blue cover my swollen throat, my eyes are blood shot, and the bridge of my nose and inner left eye also bruised. At least there’s no cuts this time. In the past, I would be grateful for that…now? I’m not sure what to think.

I was okay. I was concealed. Slowly approaching a state of blissful ignorance. Why did he come back? Why did he have to do this to me? He was so far away. I didn’t even have to be a thought in his mind. Why the fuck did he do this?

I inhale shakily through my nose to silence my tears. I won’t cry over the pain he caused me anymore. I refuse. He’s fucking dead. Shot through the head like a rabid animal that needed to be put down. I won’t cry over that either. I won’t give him that. Like Damien said, I won’t give him the satisfaction.

As I inhale again, I smell the sweet, nauseating smell of food. The smell of bacon beckoning yet turning my stomach.

I walk out of the bathroom and through my room to see Damien standing at my stove cooking breakfast. His tight white t-shirt hugs the muscles I explored last night. Evidence of my scratching barely shining through the thin material. His long, black hair in disarray, and it sways as he jerks his head to the sound of the popping and sizzling meat.

Looking at the couch, I notice it’s slightly more wrinkled than the material normally is. He must have slept on the couch, and the gesture of giving me space allows me to drop my guard a little. I take another small step, causing the floor to creak beneath me, and he slowly turns to meet my eyes.

“Good morning, little wolf.” He says as he smirks at me. His pearly white teeth gleaming in the morning light, and his posture is casual and light. As if he does this every morning, like it’s routine to make me food.

“Morning.” I say sheepishly and hoarsely through the pain, careful not to cower too much as I hug my middle.

“How are you this morning?” His eyes soften, but don’t break the straight line to my gaze. He’s refusing to look at the evidence last night left on my body, and I’m grateful for it.

Lie, Ashia. Lie through your fucking teeth. I think to myself.

“I'm good. You?” He turns and back again, with a filled plate in hand, and gives me a questionable look. He tilts his head and flashes a gentle smile.

“You’re not good. You don’t have to lie to me.” If it were anyone other than my shadow, I’d think he’d know that based on the horrible events that transpired. His look, though, piercing through my gaze and into my mind, reading me intensely. Is it that easy to decode my thoughts, or is he truly that obsessed with me?

“I'll be the judge of that.” He cocks an eyebrow at my attitude and sets the plate on the bar separating my living area from the kitchen. The same bar my face smacked last night.

“Come sit. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” As much as I want too, and how amazing the food looks, I can’t eat that. He looks at me, sadness tinged in his eyes as he looks at the plate and back to me. “I didn’t poison it. I promised I wouldn’t hurt you.” His words sound sincere, and his eyes longing. As if he’d do anything to please me.

“No, I know that. I just, I can’t eat it.” I try to reassure him.

“Why not?” He asks, and I feel my throat scratch to his intrusive question.

“Oh, so you really don’t know everything about me?” I'm sure to sling resistance into my words.

“I told you I didn’t.” He smiles gently at me again, and I walk over to the bar and sit on a stool. He slides the plate closer to me along with a cup of coffee, a glass of water, and a Plan B still in the sealed box. I'm shocked by the gesture, and actually quite grateful. I hadn’t really thought that through.

“Now that, I will take.” I point to the box before grabbing it and we laugh.

“Yeah, sorry, I couldn’t help myself. You are just so irresistible.” I look down to the floor at his compliment. His words feel like ice shooting through my ears, only to melt the further they travel. The only time I’ve heard such compliments was when Cooper wanted me to forgive him for the horrors of the night before. I should feel a sense of déjà vu, but I don’t. Damien’s soothing voice saying it is nothing like that, but I still don’t know how to accept the adoration.

“Well, and to be fair, I kind of jumped you. So, not entirely your fault.” We smile at each other as I painfully swallow the pill.

“So, why can’t you eat? You need more in your system than those terrible looking smoothies you make.” He chuckles as I look back up at him and take a deep breath. Why should I be worried about telling him anything? Who cares if I've only known him for eighteen hours? He’s known me longer and seems to know a lot already. His note about the cathedral walls pierced my heart that morning, and I think that’s when I started to feel this pull to the mysterious admirer.

I should care that this stranger I fucked last night is in my apartment making himself at home, but I don’t. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have. He obviously thinks he knows me already, and call me trauma-bonded, but after what I watched him do last night, and after I jumped him like a kid on a trampoline, I don’t mind sharing this tiny detail with him.

“When I was with Cooper, I developed an eating disorder. Mostly it’s under control now, but the mornings are still tough sometimes.” Looking into his eyes, I see waves of anger and sadness flash across his gaze. Whether it’s anger towards Cooper or me, I'm unsure of. “It’s not like I do it on purpose, it just became my body’s reaction to food to throw it up. That’s why I make the smoothies, I can keep those down majority of the time.” His eyes soften at my confession.

“I saw that.” Saw it? Saw it how? I'm guessing the same way he’s found out everything else. “But your medical files said it was involuntary? I didn’t quite understand that part.” I swallow much harder in response than I expected to, the gulping noise making its way through the kitchen. He had access to my medical information? What else has he gotten into? Court records? Police reports? Credit report? He must know more than I thought. Has he seen the carnage before my tattoos? I whimper at the thought and sip on my water to relieve my dry mouth before my next confession.

“When Cooper would be upset with me, he wouldn’t allow me to leave the apartment we lived in. Sometimes even locking me inside our bedroom. I would just stay in there sometimes even if he didn’t lock it, too afraid to come out, and the next thing I would know it would be two days and I hadn’t eaten or drank anything. Then when he either let me out, or I would get the courage to come out and eat, I obviously was very hungry and would eat too quickly. After about a year of that back and forth my stomach started rejecting food and I started throwing it back up. They classify it as bulimia, but it’s different. It was never intentional.” I see the anger return to his gaze as he sinks into his thoughts. His shoulders tense with him. I’ve never told anyone other than Serena about these details of the abuse I endured. Not even my old therapist or group. His eyes slowly come to life again, the blue in his gaze brightening again the more I stare at him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think to…” He pauses, his mind obviously racing. “I should have asked.”

“No, God no, don’t be sorry. This is so sweet, really. I want to try and eat it. It smells phenomenal.” It does, and I am starving. The kind gesture from a man, such a man at that, is just unfamiliar territory that I'm not sure how to tread.

“You don’t have too.” He says as he leans into the bar on his elbows, lightly shaking his head with a sincere look, his eyes running across my features as if he wants to reach out for them like he did last night.

“No, really, I want to. It’s been a long time since I’ve tried to actually eat before noon.” He huffs out a slight chuckle, pulls out two forks from my utensil drawer, and hands me one.

“We’ll share it then.” He smiles at me, and I can’t help but grin. Something about his smile abducts any worry from my mind, as if the confession I just spilled only fueled his wanting for me, and that alone scares me. He should be repulsed, and I should be cowering in the corner of the room at the sight of this attractive stranger, but that's not it at all. His grin has me leaning into the cheap laminate bar top, yearning to be closer to him.

“How do you do that?” I ask, practically at a whisper.

“Do what?” He tilts his head and looks at me.

“Make everything okay.” He stares into my eyes, only for a moment, before he shrugs gently at me.

“Natural talent I guess.” His scent suddenly races up my nose, and I find my breath hitching to it. He’s intoxicating, and someone I could easily become addicted to. From his eyes to his hair, his gorgeous body, and delicious smell, it all has me in a whirlwind. How am I ever going to survive this?

I sit back slightly as I take a fork full of eggs, since it seems like the lightest thing besides the sausage, potatoes, and bacon. I moan slightly at the taste, and I'm suddenly embarrassed by the gesture. Heat floods my cheeks as I look away from him. I couldn’t help it though; I’ve never met someone who could season scrambled eggs.

“This is so good.” I don’t normally talk with my mouth full, but the moan and him thrusting his dick in me last night kind of opened that door.

“Yeah?” He seems genuinely surprised by my compliment, and unbothered by my lack of manners, as his eyes light up to the thought of pleasing me.

“Yeah. Now if in ten minutes you have to hold my hair back for me, I don’t want to hear you complain.” We chuckle.

“Am I allowed to pull on it too?” I eye his devilish grin as he looks me over seductively. The thought of his large hands yanking on my scalp sends shivers down my legs, making me close them tighter to conceal my true thoughts.

Hell yes, you can.

“Does my answer matter?” I decide on that reply instead.

“No.” He grins again as I fight back my own, and I take another small bite of the food.

“So, you said we’d talk this morning.” My poor attempt to change the conversation clearly amuses him as he smirks.

“That’s what we've been doing so, yeah.” He chuckles as he takes a bite of bacon. “Ask me anything you want.” I think of the thousand questions running through my head as more flood me from the recent revelations of his words this morning.

“How have you been able to see everything I do?” He raises an eyebrow as if he thought my first question would be different.

“I hacked the security cameras in the hallway and in Cut Me Down. Also, that apartment building beside this one? Across the alley? I stay there. Directly across. I can see everything through the windows. Speaking of you need curtains. You never know who’s lurking in the shadows.” His blue eyes pin mine against a wall with that comment alongside his devil’s grin.

“I will buy curtains later then.” I say back in a snarky tone.

“Already done. They’ll be here this afternoon. I'll install them for you tonight.” He says with food in his mouth, but careful not to be gross about it.

“You don’t want to watch me anymore?” Why does the thought of that hurt my feelings? A slight twinge grows in my chest until he nods his head.

“Of course I do, baby. I just don’t need the windows to do so anymore.” Now, that comment makes my nerves tingle. The thought of him coming and going as he pleases, watching my every move, whether I want him to or not is unsettling. Has he already been in the apartment? That night I woke up and thought I saw someone, did I actually?

“What if I asked you stop? What if I don’t want you doing this?” He gently drops his fork on the plate and walks around the corner, sending sharp trembles down my spine. I stand, so if needed I’ll have a head start, and he backs me into the counter. I shake at the cold surface surprising me, exploding the trembles throughout my body as I look up to meet his daring gaze.

“Take off your pants.” He demands with a groaning tone as I clinch my thighs to hide my body’s betrayal, the heat and moisture beginning to pool there. While his demeanor and tone send fear into my chest, his commanding presence causes the heat between my legs to rise.

“What?” I ask shakily.

“Take. Them. Off.” He commands me again as I attempt to calm my shallow breaths. The corner of his lip curls slightly as he notices the heat flooding my cheeks, and just as before, his grin begins to steal the worry from me. Though not completely, as I'm fully aware that I still don’t know this mysterious man. He could still want to drag me out into a forest and chop me into bits, but I try my best not to think about that in this moment.

Shakily, I begin to loop my fingers around my sweatpants, but before I can take them off, he grabs me by my waist, sets me on the edge of the counter, and shoves his hand in my pants, inserting two fingers into me and massaging my clit with the heel of his palm.

“It doesn’t feel like you want me to stop.” I fling my head back and start to breathe heavily as he curls his fingers in and out of me, hitting that sweet sensitive spot every time. My breaths begin to stall and the rumble in my gut intensifies. “You’re mine, Ashia. I’ve made that pretty fucking clear. Every other choice is yours, but not that one. You can hate me and try to run, but you won’t get very far. I’ll chase you to the ends of the earth, little wolf, and I have a feeling you'll want me to.”

He uses his other hand to begin yanking down my pants. As soon as he rips them off, he pulls my body closer to the edge of the counter, kneels, and begins sucking and biting on my clit as he rests my legs on top of his shoulders, angling my hips just right. The slight pain coming from his teeth and the rigid surface of his tongue makes my body jolt fiercely.

“Damien, please…” What the fuck have I gotten myself into, and is it wrong for me to like it? I shouldn’t. He’s a murderous stalker. If he can murder Cooper without a second thought, what could he do to me? I’ve never felt such conflicting emotions. A part of me is terrified of this man. Of this situation. Of the unknown. While the other parts of me are curious. Aroused. Yearning. There’s a familiarity to him that I am gravitating towards. Something that tells me to venture deeper into the dark shadow that is Damien.

I'm forced out of my thoughts by a sharp bite on my clit that makes me moan out loudly and try to flinch my legs closed. I feel that pull in my lower stomach start to tug again. My short breaths coming out as pants as I feel his large tongue slip inside me and swirl around the walls, making me shake. My breathing is now in tune with the rhythm of his tongue, and his hands are in a forceful grip that pulls me closer to him. I can’t hear anything leave his mouth over him lapping into me, but I feel a vibrating sensation come from deep in his throat, rattling me to my core.

“God, how are you doing that?” I'm having to force those words out of my mouth, pushing them through the pending orgasm building inside my body.

“There is no God here, baby girl. Only me. Not even God could make you come like I can.” A shrill moan that I’ve never heard myself make before, escapes my mouth. I throw my head back again and find my grip in his hair as he sinks his fingers into my flesh. Pulling me so close to his jaws I'm not sure how he can breathe. He’s devouring me, eating through me until he reaches my soul.

I climb and climb, the buildup stealing all of the air from my lungs until I push over the edge at the last scrape of his teeth. I scream out as I crash recklessly into him. He drinks all of my release, lapping his tongue over and over as if he was suffering from withdrawals from me before this. The swallowing motion from his throat drives into my core. It feels as if I’m having an out-of-body experience. My very essence trying to escape from this pleasurable grasp, only to be dragged back down with the sensation subsiding.

With me still breathing heavily, he stands back up and presses his forehead against mine, nuzzling his nose against mine in a sweet, playful gesture.

“Any other questions?” He asks in a growling tone. His lips glisten with my orgasm, and it’s very distracting as I try to regain my resolve.

“Why me?” My voice is so shaky, it’s a cause for concern. “What am I? Victim number five?” He lightly grabs my chin and tilts my head to look up at him.

“The first, the one, and the only baby, and I don’t know why. I was walking down the street, and your beautiful eyes pulled me from afar. I watched you move through the window, and it was like you called out to me. Like I had found something I didn’t know I was searching for. I can’t explain it. In that moment I just knew.” His eyes scream truth. Burying themselves into my depths.

“Knew what?” I'm both terrified and eager to ask.

“That you were made for me, and I would do anything to have you. That everything about you would be perfect for me, and not having you would be worse than any death this world could bring me. You should know that I have every intention of making you feel the same way about me, whether you want to or not.” He kisses my forehead forcefully and sets me off the counter. “Eat as much as you want, I'll clean up. I just had my breakfast.”

“Oh my God, Ash! What the fuck happened!?” Serena runs up to me as I walk into the nurse’s station at the ER. Panic spreading across her face. The clean smell hits my nose and brings back feelings from that night so long ago. It's weird what we remember and what we shove out of our memories. How the slightest reminder brings it all back.

Damien said he had some business to take care of and that I should get my throat and face looked at. He somehow already knew Serena was an ER nurse, of course. I wonder if that was also in my files somewhere.

“I'm fine, I just need you to look me over.” I try to say with a sliver of reassurance.

“Who the fuck did this!?” I hush her high pitched yell, and lead her to one of the empty rooms. She shuts the door as she pulls in a nurse’s cart, and then stands with her hands on her hips and her bouncy ponytail drapes down her chest. Anger now replaces her previous worried glare. “Your stalker did this? I'll fucking kill him.” She’s spitting pure venom with her words. I shake my head quickly, trying to convey the urgency.

“No, Damien did not do this.”

“Damien? So he has a name now? I left you at one in the morning and it’s eleven now, what the fuck happened?”

“Cooper.” I say almost instantly, so she doesn’t have the chance to yell anymore. “Cooper happened…” Her eyes widen, and her shoulders drop. The tears forming in her eyes activate the stinging in mine.

“I'm calling the fucking police.” She reaches for her phone.

“No!” I hold her hands in mine as tightly as I can. My knuckles turning white. I should let her call the police, but I don't want Damien getting in trouble for saving my life. What would happen to DH? Our hometown would descend into complete darkness if it wasn't for him. “He won’t be a problem anymore.” Her eyes widen even more as the wheels in her head start to turn. Her pupils tighten with fear.

“Oh my God, you killed him!?”

“No! I didn’t…” I hesitate at the words about to come out of my mouth, but I need someone to talk to…someone to confide in and help me understand this, and Ser will be up front with me. She’ll put me on a 72-hour hold if need be, but at least she’ll hear me out first. “Damien did.” She jerks away, the look in her eyes almost disbelieving, and starts pacing. I see the sweat begin to bead on her forehead, and her forceful steps tell me she’s truly concerned. She’s acting how I should be right now.

“Okay, I need you to start from the beginning. The moment you got out of the Uber.” I spend the next few minutes telling her everything that happened last night. Her hands shake as she looks at my face to check for a fracture, and she gives me an Advil and an ice pack for the swelling. Her mind is swirling, so much so that she almost put the pill bottle to my throat instead of the ice pack. “So, you met him at the club last night? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because we were having such a good time, and by the time I found you again you were dancing with that guy. I don’t know, I just didn’t want to ruin your night. It had been so long since we went out.”

“Fuck Greg! You should’ve said something! You are way more important than a walk-in dick appointment.” Wait, Greg?

“I thought his name was Garrett?” I ask, confusion showing in my furrowed brows.

“Irrelevant!” I chuckle slightly at that. The poor girl doesn’t like the fact that my stalker finger fucked me at the bar and then rocked my world, but she’ll fuck a random guy at her apartment. I still love her though, even with her bad decisions. “This is dangerous, Ashia.” My mind loses the humorous thoughts.

“I know, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” I press my fingers to my temples to try and relieve some of this headache. What I told her is the truth, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like he has me in a trance, running my mind around in circles until I'm too dizzy to notice he’s cornered me.

“I mean hey, don’t get me wrong, I'm so glad you finally had sex again, but Jesus fucking Christ, Ash, can’t you find a normal guy?” Her hand slaps her thigh with the same force as her disappointment.

“I have asked myself that for years, Ser.” Her eyes twinge with guilt as she looks away from me. She stands once again with her hands on her hips as she lets out a huff. Clearly attempting to calm herself down.

“So, where’s Cooper’s body?” She asks, turning her head in my direction but not looking at me directly.

“Not a clue, his crew handled it.” I say, emphasizing the word with my attitude.

“His crew? God this is all so weird.” She starts pacing again, hands still on her hips.

“I know.” I look down, unable to fight the urge to pick at my fingers again.

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight? I can have one of the on call’s take my shift.” He said he’d be back tonight. I don’t want her there and potentially piss him off.

“No, it’s okay. I think I just need time to process.”

“I don’t like leaving you alone with Damien .” She says his name with an off tone. She may be scared to leave me alone with him, but I'm not near as scared as she is. If he wanted to hurt me or kill me he’s had every chance, but he didn’t, and while this game might turn out ugly in the end, it certainly isn’t to that point yet. Maybe he is just toying with me, wanting to wind me up before killing me, but that assumption doesn’t feel right.

“I know I'm going to sound crazy…”

“Then don’t say it! I know what you're going to say, and he will fucking hurt you, Ashia! He killed someone! He’s stalking you! Don’t twist it into anything else, please!” Her pleas are desperate, and accurate. Why can’t I see this situation like she does? Why does my sense of curiosity out weigh the danger?

“Okay.” I say as she looks at me angrily.

“You're really not going to let me call the police?” I ponder a moment. Yes, he did murder Cooper, but he fucking deserved it. I know he kills people every week, if not every day from what Tony tells me. However, it seems like he does it for good. He’s not a serial killer. Well, not in the normal sense at least. He doesn’t pick random, helpless victims.

Yes, he invaded my privacy and most likely broke into my home, but it really seems like he feels something for me. Desire and lust at the least, or he seems to think he does.

“Please don’t.” I quietly beg her. She crosses her arms and huffs, showing her defiance against my wishes. “He protected me, Ser. Saved my life. There has to be more to him than just being a random stalker. There has to be. Right?” Her look softens, and it’s like she understands my twisted mind. Just like she always has.

Like when we were kids, and I made her jump the fence to the playground at the school. It wasn’t for fun, I wanted to make sure she could jump the fence at my parents house incase she ever needed to. Or whenever we were teens, and I had to pawn some things every now and then to get money for groceries, I made sure to take her to the ‘only legal pawn shop in town’ so incase she ever needed to go, she wouldn’t trust the others that had stolen my money before. She even tried to smoke cigarettes once, and I told her not to inhale them because her lungs could catch fire. Poor thing believed me, but it kept her from getting addicted to them.

We were all we had growing up. No one wanted their daughters to be friends with the town druggies kid, and all of the cute popular girls like Ser were vindictive little bitches. We took care of each other, always have, even with how different we were. I know she means well, but I need her to trust me, even when I don’t trust myself. She retracts her gaze on me, looking around the room in contemplation, and then goes to walk out. My body sinks in defeat.

“Where are you going?”

“To get Dr. Addler. If you're going to keep fucking John Hinkley, you need birth control.” She slams the door on her way out, but then pokes her head back in and huffs aggravatingly. “So, when you say he’s big …” The corner of my mouth curls at our friendship, and just as I’m about to tell her more, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

Ser steps back into the room for a moment, and as I look down at my phone I see that the notification is from the hospital’s main app. I use it every month to pay on the mountain of bills that I owe the hospital, and of course it’s already notifying me of a change to my account when I haven’t even left yet.

“Jesus, Ser. You couldn’t have waited to put anything into my patient file?” I say, huffing out a laugh and joking.

“I haven’t put anything in yet. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I was going to.” She looks at me, her brow arched in confusion, and I feel as my face falters. Now also laced with uncertainty. I click the notification to pull up my account, and an alarming, unfamiliar picture pops up first thing. A large green checkmark that takes up almost the entire screen. The caption just below it reads, ‘Thank you for your payment! You’re all caught up!’

“What the fuck?” I say lowly, whispering more to myself and the ghosts that roam the halls, but Ser hears it.

“What is it?” She steps towards me and glances over my shoulder as I grip my phone with both hands. Immediately going to my billing statements and payment history page. I almost choke on air as I suck in a deep gasp. My outstanding balance of over forty-thousand dollars…now completely gone… nothing but three zeros and one dot showing in its place.

“Are you sure I don’t have a concussion?” I ask without taking my widened eyes off of the screen.

“I’m sure, because I see it too. How the hell did that happen?” She scrolls with her own finger, since I’m not able to move, to see the amount paid in full. The transaction date showing that it was processed today. “Maybe it’s a glitch?” She suggests trying to keep her voice even.

My chest fills with a mixture of emotions. Relief and freedom on one side, but anger and resentment on the other. This is no glitch. This is Damien’s doing. I know I should be grateful, but I recognize this tactic. Paying for my needs to make me depend on him. To have me believe that because he wooed me with this grand gesture that I’m in debt to him.

Yeah, I don’t fucking think so. If he thought that this would do anything other than belittle my ability to take care of myself, then he is seriously mistaken.