Page 23

Chapter twenty-three

Ashia

I can still feel his warmth from last night surrounding me. His touch was soft, and tender. Comforting. Every one of his movements was an attempt to absorb my sadness, my trauma. By the time I was able to calm down, I was so embarrassed with myself I thought I would die right there. But the way he wrapped his arms around me was so inviting and uplifting, I wanted more of it. It felt so good to close my arms around him at that moment. It was like how I felt in the hospital after the terrible night from my nightmares and Richard ran into my hospital room. I felt safe and encased in care, like nothing was ever going to hurt me again.

Damien’s been so gentle with me this morning. He even woke up before my alarm, turned it off, and gently woke me up. Caressing my face and whispering sweet nothings in my ear until my eyes fluttered open. Surprisingly, I woke up still wrapped in my favorite blanket, but I was even more astonished when his arms were still wrapped around me. My fear of abandonment trudged through my mind like a race horse after he carried me from the bathroom to the bed. Wondering if this was the final straw that would push him away completely. Instead, when I woke up, there he was. Combing my scalp with his fingers and making me feel like I was the most precious thing in the world. From how alert and steady he was, it made me wonder if he slept at all. I wasn’t sure what time I woke up in that panic, but I slept really good afterwards.

He even let me shower alone this morning. Which was both comforting and strange. We’ve showered together since he came into my life, but he knew I needed space and time this morning. The shower felt colder than usual, and I actually missed his added heat, but the extra time I allowed myself to sit under the warm rain was necessary.

As the warm water cascaded around my body, I tried to wash away the memories from those nights. The ache between my legs did little to dissolve them. I kept trying to remind myself that it wasn’t the same, and those years of my life were over and long gone, but the dreams always feel so real, and they’ve never blended together like they did last night. Normally, I only get the burden of one night or the other. Last night’s double feature was new for me.

My thoughts were brought back to Richard. How when DCFS insisted that I return to my parents after that horrific birthday six months prior, I thought they were going to arrest him. It broke my heart to get in my case workers car. I watched as the police detained Richard, and Marla held Ser back so they wouldn’t do the same to her. They knew going back was a terrible idea, and that whatever bullshit my parents fed them was a lie, but it didn’t matter to the agents.

I hate that I reacted like that in front of Damien. The moment he woke up, I could see the worry on his face. I knew that he wouldn’t hurt me, but my mind was racing, and it was like I could still feel and smell them at that moment, and I just needed to get away to try to compose myself and calm down. But the moment I slammed the door, and I saw the pain in his face, I felt terrible on top of everything else. His pleas from the other side of the door were desperate, and I knew he just wanted to help me, but my fucked-up self didn’t know how to let him. I panicked, and the moment I couldn’t breathe I truly thought I was fucked.

A part of me wants to be angry with him. Blame him for triggering those feelings, but there’s no sense in that. It’s not his fault I'm so messed up. He isn’t one of my rapists, and as weird as this relationship has been, I will never think of him as one. As much as I don’t want to admit it to myself sometimes, I want to have sex with Damien. I did the moment his hands touched me at the bar. I’ve even started looking forward to it. His methods of initiation may be a little different than others, but I truly feel that if I said no, and meant it, he would stop. I'm not scared of him like I should be. I never was. It’s like there’s a part of me that’s familiar to him. Like there’s a part of him that’s been missing from me, and I’ve found it again.

He's been giving me space this morning, and while I appreciate it, it’s also much different than I’ve grown used to the past several days. I wish we could go back to bed and start over. Pretend like last night never happened, but then I’d lose the sweet comfort I felt from him, and I don’t want that either. I wish I wasn’t such a mess. I want to talk to him. Help him understand why I’m like this, but then the fear of him leaving settles back in. Why would he want to stick around someone who is so traumatized? He deals with that every day, he doesn’t want to come home and deal with it there too.

I realize I'm stuck in my thoughts when I look down at my coffee to see the swirling vortex I’ve created, taking my spoon with it. Spinning it in circles even as I let go of it. After I set my spoon down in the base of the sink, I grab my coffee and turn to see the large wall of muscle standing directly behind me. A shrieked gasp flies out of my mouth as the short burst of fear ricochets through my chest.

“God, how do you do that? Are you a ninja or something?” I say through bated breath, as he laughs, and the hefty sound quickly soothes the fearful sting. Everything about this man is comforting. From the sound of his voice, to the feeling of his skin, and everything in between.

“I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He says with a smile.

“Apology accepted.” I smirk as I take a sip. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“You don’t have to thank me every morning, Ashia.” His face softens.

“Well, you don’t have to make it every morning.” I say back in a snarky tone as I grin at him.

“I know I don’t have to.” He smirks and I lift my cup to him, offering him some. He takes it with sly movements and sips. His eyes widen before he forces himself to swallow. “Did you want coffee with your creamer?” He laughs and I take my cup back, almost sloshing the liquid inside over the edge.

“Well not everyone likes to drink it black like you, psycho.” He laughs again. “Do you even have taste buds left?” I sip on it again.

“Yeah, nice adult ones. You and your kiddie taste buds are missing out.” He smirks before taking my cup and taking another sip.

“See? My childish taste buds aren’t so terrible.” I stick my tongue out at him, and his eyes briefly flash with a hint of hunger, but then he pushes it away and the look is gone. While I know he’s doing it because of last night, it still stings a little. I don’t want him to treat me any differently than he has been.

“Oh no, I just needed to make sure that it still tasted like melted ice cream.” He laughs and hands it back.

“Ass.” He kisses my forehead and walks over to the cabinet to grab the to-go mug he’s claimed for himself. “You have a busy day today?” I inquire in my poor excuse to change the subject.

“Not too bad. So far it’s just paperwork and profiling, but we’ll see what pops up. Here lately, something always does.” He sighs, almost painfully. “You okay this morning?” He looks into my eyes sweetly.

“Yeah, I feel much better. Thank you, for last night.” He looks me over with a determined stare.

“Ashia, you never have to thank me for taking care of you. I like doing it, and I like you. I want to take care of you. You're not a burden. I just want you to be okay, and I'll always do whatever it takes to make sure you are.” His look is sincere, and soft.

“Well, I appreciate it all the same.” He grins at me before walking up and kissing my cheek.

“I got to head out. I'll see you tonight.” He lightly caresses my jaw before walking out of the front door, and I lean on my counter to watch the now empty entry way. Secretly hoping he’ll walk back in because he forgot something.

Kiddie taste buds .

I look down at my coffee in confusion, and it is rather sweet and very pale. Especially compared to how he drinks his. I’ve never really tried coffee another way. Ser gets some iced latte something when she buys coffee in the morning, but I don’t have a clue on how to make that, and I certainly don’t have money to buy coffee every morning like she does.

There is that coffee shop next door…

Fuck it. I pour out my cup, grab my keys, and head downstairs. Treading lightly and stepping on the right side of the stairs so the wood doesn’t creak and groan.

I make my way into the coffee shop next door, and marvel at the serene, relaxing environment. It’s very warm in here. Not really the temperature, but the feeling. The floors are a nice warm wood, and the walls are a warmer gray, with a wooden accent wall behind the counter and menu. Luscious green plants surround the room. Either hanging from the ceiling or sitting on the tables or counters.

It’s actually busier than I imagined, and suddenly I feel weird being in here. It’s mostly filled with patrons who needed their caffeine fix before their important jobs. Everyone is dressed in nice office attire and most everyone has a fake smile plastered to their face. I even notice Robert in the far corner.

“Good morning. May I help you?” I look forward to the noise and see a woman behind the counter. Younger, probably around twenty. Long platinum hair tied into a straight ponytail, and her prefect brown apron is draped without a single crease.

“Um, yes.” I walk up and stare at the hundreds of options. Okay, well that’s an exaggeration, but the list is very long. “Would it be weird if I asked you to pick? I don’t know what any of this is or what it means.” I chuckle and she beams with a smile. Pure excitement shines behind her eyes. I’m guessing she doesn’t normally get that request.

“Okay! Sounds fun! What are you thinking of? Do you want hot or iced? Iced drinks can taste a little stronger.”

Well, if stronger is the game…

“I’ll try iced.”

“Okay, do you like any flavors? Any preference on how strong?”

“Um, I like vanilla, and strong enough to prove that I don’t have childish taste.” She laughs.

“Okay, great. One semi-sweet, vanilla iced coffee coming right up.” She rings me up and it’s not long before she’s handing me a dark iced drink. Kind of looks like tea, but I saw her put a shot of espresso in it, so we’ll see how this goes. I take a seat on the opposite side of the shop, and I hear a woman’s laptop play from a few tables down. She’s pulled up the DH podcast, waiting for it to start. Curiously, I move to the table next to her.

“Do you mind if I listen?” I ask and she shakes her head as I focus on the screen.

“Good morning city people! This is D.N. with your weekly DH recap! So far this week, there have been three different warehouse busts called in to police, bringing our weekly dead count to twenty-nine! The crazy thing is that only a few of those bodies were not involved in the warehouse raids.

Four days ago, police received an anonymous tip of a body being left in the lake. When they pulled the body out, there was a bag of the victim’s personal belongings secured, waterproofed, and zip tied to the body. Jeremy Eizner’s body was recovered with not only drug paraphernalia, but his wallet and ID, all clearly visible.

Normally, the police have the task of identifying the bodies, but why was this one so important? Why is it crucial that his drugs and pipe were easily accessible to the police? They also seem to believe that this is a kill of rage. Normally, when anonymous calls for DH bodies are recovered, it’s a simple shot to the head or chest, quick slit of the throat, or something indicating that it is strictly business.

This, however? Looked personal as hell folks. This man's face was so badly beaten that without his ID, there's a good chance they never would have been able to identify him. On top of this escalation, it also gave us a small bit of information about DH. At the same time of the estimated time of death, on the other side of the city, a small-time meth dealer was taken out, also claiming to be DH.

I mean we were pretty positive that Devil’s Hands was not just one person, but now that it’s confirmed, it leads to other questions. Like was this bit of information given intentionally? Or did something happen and cause DH to screw up?

Either way, Devil’s Hands needs to keep their mind in the game. My sources tell me that criminal and suspicious activity has risen over the past couple of weeks, and my opinion? Something is coming. DH efforts to stop Dust are ruthless, but the number of dealers and warehouses linked to Dust keep rising. So, DH, if you’re listening, stay focused. Without you, I’m afraid of what’s going to become of this city.”

Jeremy Eizner? Is that the man Damien killed the other night for following me? This kid is right, it is very unlike DH to leave a body in that manner. The lake water would get rid of any evidence. Is that why his crew got rid of the body the way they did? Did Damien slip up because he was worried about me? I know he killed the man from the bar, so I can only imagine what he did to the guy from the other night.

I can’t be a problem for him. I can’t distract him from his mission. D.N. is right. Things in his world have been escalating. He even said so this morning. I’m already proving to be more trouble than I’m worth.

I nod my head to the woman, thanking her in a silent gesture. The podcast is still playing, but I ignore it, and walk out of the shop. Sipping on this very strong coffee on my way to work. I need to find some time to myself today at some point and think everything over. I know relationships are supposed to be about communication, but how do I explain my feelings to him? He hates that I think of myself as a burden, I don’t see bringing this up going any better.

I turn my shop key into the lock and make my way inside. Sipping my coffee, that isn’t half bad, as I step in and started my day.

I love the weather just before a big storm comes in. The breeze is cool, and the air has a softness to it. I know ‘the calm before the storm’ is something people like to say when they’re foreshadowing, but why does it have to mean something bad when it’s the best part?

It's not often I climb on to the awning outside of the shop. After I used to look down and picture myself jumping off the fire escape, I couldn’t stomach climbing over it to get over here. Lately, I've been wanting to. Not jump, I'm past that I think, but sit out here watch the streets below. Enjoy the breeze and ghost-like feel of downtown on a weeknight.

I even let the dangerous thoughts in as I sit out here and let my mind wander. The ones where I think of a different life. One where I’m not so fucked up, and I’m actually healed and past all of my trauma. One where I could be enough for a partner and have more to offer than depression. Maybe a house instead of this apartment, actually getting a degree and only cutting hair one day a week. The sound of kids in the background as my best friend and I stand to the side and watch them play. Her kids would be rowdy and break every rule, while mine would try to act innocent, but be the ones to come up with the ideas.

I haven’t thought about those things in a long time, and I could push it aside and say it was a lapse in judgement. That there’s nothing that would prompt me to think of those things, but that’d be a lie.

Now in these thoughts, at least one of the kids has bright, ever changing blue eyes, and it’s like I can actually smell him, even now. A part of me hates myself for letting that slip through, but I suppose a man with same blue eyes coming inside you every night invites those feelings. I definitely shouldn’t be thinking this way, and it shouldn’t be warming my chest or causing my stomach to flutter, but here I am, and the thought of a family far into the future isn’t so scary anymore.

I can imagine that Richard and Marla have thought about being grandparents, and I’m sure they have a bet going on who will make them grandparents first. Me or Ser. Before the past few weeks? My bet would have totally been on Serena. The fact that she hasn’t gotten pregnant yet is insane to think of. I suppose birth control is a wonderful thing after all.

She’d be a good mom, it’s not that I doubt her in any way, but she loves her single, no attachment life. Now Richard and Marla? I can’t imagine better grandparents. I just think of all of the things that they’ve done for me, someone not even blood to them, and I can’t begin to imagine what they’d do for a grandchild.

I remember when I first moved into their home, Richard built me a deck right off of my bedroom window because he knew I used to climb onto our roof from my bedroom window when I needed a small escape. After DCFS made me go back to my parents, I crawled out there every evening so Richard could drive by and see that I was alive when he got off of work.

“Are you okay?” I jolt and snap my head to his deep voice, scaring the shit out of me again. He’s standing on the fire escape, just behind the awning, and the darkness from the night encases him. Making him appear as the dark angel I've come to like.

“You have got to stop scaring me like that.” I say as a small grin creeps on my face.

“I'm sorry.” He looks at me concerned as he walks to the edge of the railing. Grasping the metal like he’s about to jump over it frantically.

“You look at me like I'm going to jump.” I chuckle, but he averts his gaze slightly before looking back at me.

“Well, I know I've been pushing you the past couple of weeks.” He actually looks sad and worried. Guilty even. My stomach drops, and I start to feel bad.

“I'm fine Damien, I'm not going to jump. Especially because of you. You make me feel…” I hesitate, not wanting to tell him, but wanting to ease his worries. He furrows his brows, waiting for my response. “Alive. Which is strange because I know nothing about you.”

“I think you know more about me than you realize.” We stare at each other, his eyes shimmering against the yellow light from the streetlamps. “Tell me. What do you think you know? I'll tell you if you're right.”

“What if I'm wrong?”

“You won’t be.” I bite back a grin and look away. Keeping my gaze astray long enough to get my shit together before I meet his eyes again.

“You're always so sure about everything.” I say as I bob my head side to side in a playful manner.

“Not everything.” His gaze intensifies, purposely not reciprocating my playfulness. “Just you.” I feel the heat rise to my cheeks, and I have to bite my lips between my teeth to keep myself from smiling wide like a teenager. Inhaling a deep breath, I conjure whatever confidence is buried deep down.

“I think your favorite color is blue.” He softens his gaze at me. “At first I thought it was black, because you wear it almost every day, but you don’t like warmer toned blacks. All of your shirts and hoodies are a bluer-black, and even though I have two different to-go coffee mugs you picked the blue one. You also like horror movies and Star Wars, just like I do. You get too into it not to. You act really hard and tough sometimes, but your touch is really soft. There’s a gentle side to you that you don’t normally let people see. You're selfless…”

“Okay, now that you got wrong. If I was selfless, I wouldn’t be stalking you.” We laugh and he relaxes a little. “I'm very selfish when it comes to you.”

“Only when it comes to keeping me.” He squints his eyes, showing that he’s taking every word I say to heart. “Other than stalking me, you've never been selfish with me.” He smirks. “You're never worried about yourself. Even when you get calls for work, you’re worried until they ease it. It’s interesting to see your face so tense until about halfway into the conversation. You're really confident, but I think it’s to hide your fears. You're afraid to lose the ones you care for, and you always put them before yourself. You'd step in front of a bullet for any of your men, and that’s extremely courageous. You know what you want, and you go for it, even though you don’t think you deserve it. You love to laugh, but I think it’s because it’s not often you get to anymore.” He smiles fully at me. Showing off those pearly whites and his gaze softens, telling me that I'm right. “I'm really glad you can laugh with me.” I finally smile back at him.

“Me too.” We stay in place for a moment. Taking in the moment and absorbing it before I stand up and walk back over to the railing. As I grasp it to pull myself back up to the fire escape, he looks down at me endearingly. My eyes meet him, losing myself in his swirling gaze. “See? You know more about me than you think, and much more than others.” I smile again and lick my bottom lip before looking away. Gently shaking my head to try and clear it.

I step up onto the metal floor of the fire escape and begin to hoist myself up when my foot slips. Causing the sharp squeal from my shoe to chirp through the alleyway. The motion of my stomach dropping sends a quick shot of adrenaline through my body, but it stops at Damien’s hands. Which are both now grasping my upper arms tightly.

Both of my hands on the rail, and my foot only slipped back to the awning roof, but he’s holding me like I would have fallen to my death if he wasn’t holding on. Which I suppose I could have if I slid down the awning, but it’s unlikely. His eyes are wide, and I'm not sure he’s breathing.

Laughter escapes me. Carrying itself down the alley, and I have no doubt that it’s loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. The moment my laughter registers for him, he sighs and hangs his head lazily in relief at the realization that I'm alright.

“Don’t scare me like that.” He says with a heavy breath, and I finally control my laughter before looking up and soaking in the consolation in eyes.

“I didn’t mean to, I swear, but it was nice to get you back.” Laughter erupts from my throat again. Not quite as loud as before, while he scoffs and shakes his head. “You can let me go now, I'm fine.” His returns his gaze to me as it hardens. Taking my statement in a completely opposite direction.

“I’ll never let you go.” He declares with so much conviction that he could be etching it into stone. I smirk and look deeply into his eyes. His feelings for me shine through them. Adoration and endearment flashing across.

“I meant physically, Damien. I can hoist myself up.” I say sweetly, and refrain from teasing him about his dramatics.

“Oh.” He lets go and I pull myself up, but only before grabbing me around my waist and lifting me over the railing. Pulling me close the moment my feet are back on the solid metal surface of the fire escape. My body now flush with his. His heart is pounding into the palms of my hands as his arms encircle and entrap me. “I'm not sure I can let you go that way either.” He says, barely audible. His lips are only a few inches from mine as he leans down.

“Then don’t.” I whisper back. My voice now sultry. His arms tighten around my body as he plants his lips to mine. The two sets move in their own heated dance, tangling and synchronizing with one another. He lifts me up, suspending me in the air for a brief pause before he moves to sit on the stairs to the fire escape. Setting me in his lap as he lowers himself. My legs are on either side of him, so I straddle him, and his hard erection grazes me through his jeans. Leading me to grind down against him slightly. Just enough to feel the bulge.

The kiss intensifies. His lips press against me even more ravenously, and his tongue claws at me, as if it's trying to make its way inside my soul. He pulls away, only long enough to sink his teeth into my neck and suck. Most likely leaving a dark mark behind like a horny teen.

“Let’s go inside.” He says through trailing kisses on my throat before he grabs my hair in his fierce grip and yanks my head back to look at him. The force dominant, but not painful. He leans in close, so close that his breath caresses my skin, and his lips just barely touch mine. “No one is going to see me fuck what’s mine.”

A little while later, I groggily resurface from sleep. Still feeling the pleasurable ache and cum between my thighs. I can tell I haven’t been asleep long, and my alarm didn’t wake us up, so it’s probably very early morning. Though, something doesn’t feel right. The bed feels cold, and his usual heat isn’t encasing me. I turn and look over my shoulder to see that he’s not in bed. The sheets are wrinkled, but the absence of any warmth tells me that he hasn’t been in bed for some time now.

He wouldn’t leave, would he? Did he get a call and have to go back out? I figured he would have woken me up and told me if that was the case.

I sit up and take in the room. Listening as the rain beats against the window, and watching as the lightning briefly illuminates the small space. His clothes are still scattered along the floor from when we practically tore them off earlier, and his boots are by the window. The shower isn't running, and the light to the bathroom isn't shining underneath the door, so I assume he isn’t in there. I stand to pick up our clothes, and I don't see his boxer briefs. I seriously doubt he’d be outside in this weather with only his briefs on, but I've been wrong before.

Walking up to the bedroom door, wrapped in my blanket, I open it to look out and see him sitting on the couch. Only the dim light from the small source above the stove is radiating through the main area. Making it hard to see, but it doesn’t seem to be bothering him. Papers are sprawled out on the coffee table in front of him. Some in neat piles, some not. He’s reading them intensely and sorting them into separate stacks. All lined up in neat succession. He pauses and looks up at the doorway. Instantly meeting my gaze.

“Hey baby, I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He says sincerely.

“You didn’t, I just…” I stop myself, suddenly feeling my throat constrict. Do I want to admit that I missed him laying next to me?

“Just what?” He squints his eyes, confused.

“You weren’t next to me…” I say quietly. Feeling the need to pause as the embarrassment creeps in. “So, I just…wanted to make sure you were okay.” He smiles at me and licks his bottom lip ever so slightly. His eyes brighten, and droop lightly into a fond expression.

“Yeah, I'm okay. Just catching up on some work from today.” Did he not finish earlier because he was worried about me again? Have I become such an interruption in his life that he can’t focus while he’s out?

“I love how you call it ‘work’. It sounds so normal.” I laugh, trying to conceal my feelings.

“I'm anything but normal, baby girl.” He smirks at me, and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face.

“I’ve noticed.” I bite my lip, and try to refrain from bothering him any longer. He obviously needs to get that done, and I can’t mess him up anymore that I already could have. “Well, um, I'll let you get back to it.” I start to turn back.

“Don’t go.” The words slip from his lips so effortlessly. Like he was already planning on saying them. I look back at him and meet the pleading look in his gaze. “ Come here. Let me show you what I'm doing.” I stare at him for a moment awe. He wants to show me what he’s doing for ‘work’? What if he messes something up because I'm staring?

“I don’t want to be a distraction.” I gently shake my head.

“You’re not a distraction. I don’t care what the kid on the podcast thinks.” His face turns stern, as if the online speculation angered him.

“Heard that did you?” I chuckle.

“It’s about time they confirmed it’s not a one man operation. You'd think they’d be smarter than that.” I giggle as he grins. “You're not a distraction, little wolf.”

“So you don’t think of me when you're working?”

“Of course I do. I always think of you.” I bite my lips between my teeth to try and suppress the heat flooding my face.

“Isn’t that dangerous? It kind of sounds like I'm a distraction. I can’t be more important than your work Damien.”

“Why not?” He asks seriously.

“Because you save lives and get rid of criminals. I can’t get in the way of that, and what happens…” I pause again, unsure of his reaction. “What happens if you get hurt or you get caught because you’re not focused?” His face softens, and he takes a breath in.

“You don’t get in the way, but you're damn right you’re always on my mind. You are the most important thing to me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do my job at the same time.” I gently shake my head at his stubbornness as he smiles at me. “You don’t have to worry about me getting hurt or caught. I told you that nothing was going to keep me from you and I meant it.” His lips curl at the end in a slight, mischievous grin, and he gently pats on the couch next to him. “Come here.” I walk over and sit down next to him on the couch. Pulling my blanket tighter against my naked body. “Do you know what geographical profiling is?”

“I’ve seen it on Criminal Minds.” We laugh.

“It’s pretty much the same thing, but it’s not the same offenders. So right now we have a large map of the city put up on the wall, and we use different markers to keep track of the crime. Once we finish some upgrades, it’ll be computerized, and save us a lot of time, but for now we do it this way.” He picks up a stack of papers. “Every week, I go through these, sort them out, and then place their markers on the map. Different crimes have different colors, and the ones we respond to have different pins then the ones we don’t.”

“The ones you don’t?” I say, surprised that there’s something this man can’t do, and he shrugs.

“Yeah, we can’t get to everything that’s called in. I wish we could, but we’re just not at the place to do that.”

“So, how do you decide?”

“Well, that’s where the map comes in. By keeping track, we can see if there’s patterns, or an abundance of crime in a certain location. If that’s the case, I have one my patrols stake that area instead.” I pick up one of the pieces of paper and study it. The layout and font look familiar, and the tone of the text on the page is extremely professional.

“Is this a copy of a dispatch report?”

“Yeah.” He exclaims proudly, paired with a slight jerk of his head.

“So you have access to police dispatch?”

“Sure do. We’ve been able to get into their whole database for a while now. That’s how we can respond so quickly and avoid police.” I widen my eyes. So, that explains how he knows so much. The thought of how much time and effort it must have taken to be able to hack into something as secure as that is impressive. I obviously knew that he could hack into cameras and other things such as the hospital database, but this just proves that his organization is on a whole other level.

“That’s pretty cool. I'll be sure not to tell Tony.” I joke.

“Yeah, please don’t.” We laugh and he starts to put all of the papers up, but I grab a lone sheet off the end of the table. Wondering why this one is pushed aside.

“Why is this one separate?” He stops and looks at me intrigued.

“Well, that one’s a little strange. See the name on it?” I nod. “I rescued her two weeks ago, and that wellness check for her was called in this morning by her neighbor.”

“Okay? Is she missing again?”

“Nope. She’s in Ohio. Has been since I rescued her. Carter called her up to check in to make sure.”

“The neighbor just now realized she was gone?” He flicks his eyebrows upward.

“Well, that’s its own issue, but look at what the complaint said.” I read through the dispatcher notes. Taking in the details of what this old woman saw and look at him with a questionable expression. “Exactly.”

“So, there’s a man breaking into the house twice a night? That’s super strange.”

“Not only that, but his description matches a dealer’s one of my patrols spotted two nights ago. Same tattoos also. It would be one thing if they were out looking for her, but the neighbor has seen that guy for three nights now. If they were looking for her specifically, they’d know she hasn’t been back there.” I think about the situation, and what need this dealer would have to break in twice a night.

I think back to when Cooper was dealing. All of the tricks and ruses he would use to get by, and all of the tactics he’d utilize to keep from getting caught.

“What if it’s not the same guy?” He looks at me questioningly. “I remember when Cooper sold, sometimes they’d leave the drugs in a mailbox or what looked like an Amazon box on a random doorstep. She said in her witness statement he was carrying a duffle bag when he walked in the first time, but not when he left for the first time, and not when he came back, but then he had it again when he left for the night? What if it’s not the same guy who comes the second time every night? I mean it’s late and dark out. She could easily think it was the same person. Most tattoos look the same from afar and in the dark.” His eyes widen, and he looks genuinely curious about my theory.

“So, their using the abandoned homes as drop off locations.”

“It sounds like they could be.” He thinks for a minute. His cute, scrunched, thinking face takes hold for a moment as the wheels turn in his mind, and then he looks back at me. Grinning slyly and looking me over hungrily.

“You are a beautiful fucking genius, you know that?” My cheeks begin to flush again, and I can feel the heat up to my ears. He pulls out his phone and types out a long message before setting it on the table and starts packing up the papers.

A part of me wants to doubt myself. It was only a suggestion, and he knows Dusts’ movements and strategies WAY more than I do. There’s a very slim chance that I’m right, yet he’s taking my words as seriously as a commandment. I want to tell him not to take my theory to heart, but I know he’ll just tell me not to question myself. My fingers fidget, and a part of me wants to help him clean this stuff up, but I’m also afraid to touch it.

“I wish I had a desk or something you could use so you could spread out a little more.” I say awkwardly.

“Nah, don’t worry about it, baby. The coffee table works just as well, and I try my hardest to give you all of my attention when I'm here.” He kisses me on the cheek before walking over to a backpack laid out on the bar counter and putting the papers into a folder. He zips up the back slowly. Almost menacingly, as he turns his head to the side and gives me a wicked smirk.

Stalking back over to me, he looks over me from head to toe. His eyes are hooded, and he slowly devours the sight of me. As he makes his way in front of me, he stands between my legs and plants both hands on the top of the couch, on either side of my head. Bracing himself as he leans down to nuzzle my neck. His nose tickles my throat as he drags it upwards against my skin to the shell of my ear, taking in my scent as he moves.

His own smell travels up my nasal passages. Hitting just right in my chest like he’s my favorite candle or body spray. The graze of his touch sending tingles through my body, causing a pleasurable ache in my core, and igniting the heat between my legs.

“Such a good girl. So smart. Good girls like you get rewarded.” He says in my ear before planting a kiss below my jaw.

“For what?” I say almost as a whisper as he gently bites the sensitive area just below my ear.

“For being sweet and checking on me.” He plants another soft kiss. “For being so intelligent and giving me a lead.” The sharp edges of his teeth scrape the area just under my jaw. “And you tried big girl coffee this morning. I'm so proud of you.” I laugh a lot louder than I probably should, and I feel his lips curl into a smile against my skin.

He interrupts my laughter by planting his lips to mine and massaging my tongue with his as he trails a hand down my chest, down to my stomach, and lower until he pushes two fingers into my core. I gasp at the blissful intrusion, and a slight groan leaves his mouth and slithers its way to my ears.

“Such a good girl. I love how you’re interested in my work.” He begins to pump his fingers in and out, curling them until he hits that sweet spot that has me breathing heavy. “Do you hear how good you've been?” If the sounds from my soaking pussy is what he’s talking about, then yes. I nod my head vigorously. “You know what I want to hear, baby.”

Damn, use my words.

“Yes. God, Damien.” I moan out.

“Such a pretty pussy.” He moans as he trails kisses over my breasts. Swirling his tongue around my peaked nipple before dragging it down my stomach, and onto my hips. Pressing soft kisses and nibbles to the bone. I spread my legs and thrust into his hand, desperately searching for the touch I crave. “You needy for my tongue, little wolf?”

“Yes. Please, Damien…” A growl escapes his throat against the inside of my thigh, and it ripples up straight to my core.

“I love it when you beg. Do you know there is nothing that you could ask of me that I wouldn’t do?” Before I can answer, he takes my clit into his mouth. Expertly sucking and flicking with his tongue. Now that he’s pointed out the noises, his lapping and fingers thrusting into me is all I can hear. A warmth washes over my body at the sound, and my body begins to tighten, my insides pulling and twisting. He pulls off of me, with a slight pop of his lips. Leaving me aching.

“Your pussy is my favorite meal, the best desert, and the rarest delicacy. I could survive well nourished and then die as a happy man inside of you.” He switches tactics, and I feel his tongue flatten and curl into my entrance, taking my juices into his mouth as his thumb resumes circular, pressured motions on my clit. I grab onto his hair, curling his soft locks into my grip and pulling him deeper. He then growls, vibrating waves shocking my core and my clit.

“Oh, Damien…oh, fuck…” I'm panting now as the charge towards an orgasm builds to a peak. Twisting my insides so taut, I’m going to snap.

“That’s right, little wolf, keeping saying my name.” I whimper, and my body starts to tremble.

“Damien!” I yell out. “Damien. Damien…”

“Come on, baby girl, pour into me. I'm starving for you.” His large tongue thrusts into my pussy and curls against my walls, making me shatter and come on his tongue, screaming. The irresistible movements not letting up for a second as he keeps the waves of pleasure rolling again and again, barely minimizing before a second build begins. “One more, little wolf. Give me one more.”

God what does this man do to me?

It’s not but a few seconds before I'm coming again. Tensing and releasing so strongly that it almost hurts. Emptying myself more than I ever thought possible. His movements finally slow, and my body begins to relax. My muscles are loosening up and the pleasure is subsiding in the most eloquent way. Like wading on top of a calm sea. He finally retreats and drags his tongue up my spent body until he presses his soaked lips to mine again.

“See how fucking good you taste?” I lick my bottom lip in submissive bliss. “How am I ever supposed to resist you?” Him? Resist me? And here I thought I was having issues combatting him.

He kisses my jaw, leaving my mess on the skin as he snakes his arms around me. Grabbing my ass and hauling me up in the perfect position to wrap my legs around his hips. His large, hard erection grazing my pussy through his briefs.

“You want me to take care of that?” I say and jerk my head down, gesturing to it, all while I’m still heavy with breath. That mischievous devil’s grin grows on his face just before rolling his head back. Then he bites his lip with those dangerous jaws, and he straightens his neck to stare at me like a predator. His animalistic growl vibrates through the air.

“Such a good fucking girl.”