Page 30

Chapter thirty

Ashia

‘Give’ – Sleep Token

One Week Later

Jerking awake, I notice the small amount of subtle light making its way in through the window. It must be early, a little before six in the morning. I halfway expected to have a ball gag in my mouth, but there’s nothing. Three weeks ago, I woke up in his arms, and I have every morning since. I’m kind of disappointed to notice that his arms aren’t wrapped around me right now. The bed feels cold, and I have a feeling I would have slept much better if his normal weight was pressing against me.

Is he okay? Have I pushed him away too much? I’ve been putting him through the ringer since my confession in bed last week. I’ve been…distant. I’m not really screaming at him anymore, and he still talks to me about what he had to do that day, but I’m not really telling him about mine or asking a lot of questions. I'm all over the place. Flirting with him and enjoying his company for one second, then trying to ignore him the next. Allowing my fear to take over again and again. The sex with him feels amazing, but the more and more he shows me himself, the more scared I get, because I'm catching myself feeling every little schoolgirl thought about him. What our future could look like, and how I would feel if I lost him.

Last night, he said he would show me his life soon. He says showing is better than telling, and I'm honestly terrified of what that entails. What could he possibly have planned? Is he going to take me with him one night? I’m not scared because I think he’ll physically hurt me, but of the hurt that would follow if I ever lost him. I'm starting to feel like I couldn't handle him not being next to me every night. Even now, when I woke up and didn’t immediately feel the warmth of his body next to mine. The coldness only sunk in deeper, and seeped into my chest.

I lift my head to look towards the door. Hoping that he’s just in the living room finishing up some paperwork, but I catch him at the end of the bed. Not in his usual prowling demeanor, or with a sex crazed gleam in his eye. He’s just sitting there. Looking so distraught it makes my heart ache. His elbows are resting on his knees, his head is cradled in his hands, and his breathing looks rigid, like he’s in pain.

“I'm sorry, little wolf. I didn’t mean to wake you. You can go back to sleep.” He says with a groan, and without ever looking up. Okay, now this is strange. He genuinely looks distraught and isn’t trying to stick my ass in the air.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him softly.

“Nothing Ashia, just a long night.” He says much colder than before. Is he upset with me? Should I have noticed that he was there sooner? Sex and affection I feel like are two different things. While Damien has shown me affection, I’ve only willingly shown him desire, lust, even though he sees right through me. I’ve been trying not to like him. Not to let him in my caged heart and feel this way about him. But seeing him like this, I hate it. It’s bringing actual pain to my chest and the worry manifests on the tip of my tongue. Making my mouth dry from the anxiety.

I sit up fully and crawl over the bed to settle behind him. Gently placing my hand on his back, I lean into him and rest my head on his shoulder. His breathing is shaky, and his muscles feel so taut I’m afraid they’ll snap under the pressure he’s putting on himself. I run my hand up and down his back to try and comfort him. Attempting to loosen some of the tension.

“Don’t do that.” I say quietly. “Don’t put up your draw bridge.” I feel him turn his head back to look at me, and I lift my gaze to meet him. “I know I’ve been difficult lately, but you can talk to me.” He takes a deep breath at the thought. Almost like he’s afraid to say whatever is on his mind.

“We were taking down a warehouse tonight. A few new ones have popped up the past couple of weeks.” His jaw clenches with evident emotion turmoil. “Henry, one of my men…my friend. The one you saw last week?” I nod. “He died tonight.” I feel his body tense as the words leave his mouth, and my heart immediately sinks. “I had to go and tell his wife, that’s why I'm so late.” I feel another deep, shaky breath wrack his chest. Like he’s trying to contain tears. “They have two kids. A little three-year-old girl, and an infant boy. Not even four months old. How…” He swallows harshly. “How are they supposed to get past this…”

“I'm so sorry.” I wrap my other arm around his chest.

“I gave his wife money, which I know doesn’t help much right now, but I wanted them to be okay down the road. It’ll pay for his funeral, their house, another house if she wants, and both kids for college. But it’s not enough.” I hear the choked, soft tone, laced with guilt, in his voice. The words in his mind telling him that he’s the reason his man died. I can’t imagine what’s exactly going through his mind. I wasn’t there to hear the sounds or see the commotion, but from his current state, I imagine it was horrible. I’ve never seen him so distraught. The thoughts of anguish are whispering to him, pulling him downward into a depressing spiral.

I move my hand from his chest and place it on his cheek. My heart instantly melts as he sighs lightly, and nudges into it.

“Hey, you didn’t force him to work for you. He wanted to because he believed in the same things you do. I can’t imagine someone fighting the way you all do for nothing. You didn’t get him killed, Damien.” He closes his eyes in contemplation. Almost like he’s trying to convince himself. I feel as he nods against my hand and kisses my palm before he stands up.

“I'm going to take a shower. You can go back to sleep if you want.” He walks away and into the bathroom, shuts the door, and turns on the light.

Sadness washes over me. Crashing into me like a tidal wave. I've never seen him like this. So hurt. So irrevocably disconsolate. I want to comfort him. Hold him tight so he knows he isn’t alone.

What am I doing? Don’t fall for him…don’t fall for him… the same words I said to myself that night in the forest. Pushing these feelings aside isn’t an option anymore. He needs me. I want to comfort him, and so far the only thing I know that makes him feel better, is me. Now I know I'm fucked, and my self pleas are useless. I don’t want him to be in pain…and I want to do everything I can to help him heal.

I stand up and undress myself as I hear the water run, and I feel the steam absorb into my body as I open the bathroom door. Anticipation and nervousness creeps into my bones, and I actually find myself shaking slightly. What if he wants to be alone? Maybe he's not the type to want comforting. Either way, he needs to know I'm here for him. That he doesn’t have to be alone if he doesn’t want to be. If he wants space, I'll give that to him, but I can’t resist the urge to check on him.

As I pull back the shower curtain and step in, I can see him. His blue and purple, bruised covered back and side. All very fresh, and going to look much worse tomorrow. My mouth drops in a silent gasp. The defined muscles in his back look as tense as they felt, and I can almost see them twitch in pain. It looks like he was beat to hell. The dark painful color runs over his sides and ribs, as well as down his spine.

This is the first time I’ve really been able to examine his back tattoo with him standing still and the lights on. His tattoos are magnificent, his whole back is covered, and I knew that, but I've never got a good look at it before. It’s of a Grim Reaper, setting on top of a damaged skull, and hungry looking crows surround him. Reaper’s hood is half covering a stoic, somehow grinning skull. The black, shaded realism is menacing, as if the way he feels about himself manifested into art. I can’t tell much of the background work through the bruises though.

“Oh my God, Damien. What the hell happened?” I step up to him to touch the wounds for myself, wanting to assess how bad these really are. Even though I don’t have enough medical knowledge to determine the extent. I don’t even get the chance to check before he turns around, revealing the same colors on his chest. As well as deep scratches and gashes spread across his chest and stomach. I look up to see the side of his face, right at the temple, discolored with a large bleeding cut through it, and I can’t help but draw in a sharp gasp. The air scalding my lungs as I inhale his pain. “Oh, God.”

My breath is stolen from me at this moment, and the fear won’t allow me to release this burning feeling in my chest. I place one hand on his chest and the other gently examining the cut on the side of his face. Watching as the blood continues to run down his features. He seemed indestructible to me. An iron tower that could withstand any storm. Seeing him this hurt breaks my heart. A new wave of fear sets in, and I can feel my eyes burn as the water pools in them.

“I'm okay, baby. I'm fine.” He says quietly. Trying to reassure me.

“You don’t look fine.” I force out of my mouth. Are my words really as shaky as they sound? He’s the one in pain, I shouldn’t sound like this. I watch my hand tremble as I run my fingers down his cheek.

“I am now.” He whispers as he reaches around my waist and pulls me in close. One of his arms reaches up and across my back to my shoulder, while the other wraps around so far that he can grasp my opposite hip. I encircle my arms around his neck and hold him just as tightly as he’s holding me. I’ve been so concerned about him leaving me, that I never thought I could lose him another way. This way…he’s hurt, badly, and yet he's the one trying to act like it’s nothing. What if he had died tonight, and I never heard from him again? I’d be shattered.

I’ve gotten used to his touch and his presence. His warmth and embrace are something I've come to crave. He’s funny. He loves to laugh, and tries to turn any conversation, even serious ones, into a joke. He loves to pick and can take as much shit as he can dish out. Yet he’s so sweet, caring, and thoughtful. Even through his chaotic life, he’s always so concerned for me. He makes sure I eat enough, paying attention to what I like and how I like it. My smoothies are a tad complicated, but he knows exactly how to make them.

He’s always asking how I'm feeling, and all he’s ever wanted was to know more about me, but more importantly he doesn't pity me for what I've been through. He makes me feel so strong and confident after we talk. As much as I hate to admit it, I feel whole when he’s here. He’s starting to occupy the missing pieces in my chest, only he’s not using my broken shards to fix me. He’s using pieces of himself to fill that hole, and I didn’t expect that. If something happened to him, I’d miss him. My life would have a constant void…one that only he could fill…

His hands run up and down my back as he squeezes tighter, taking in every ounce of comfort from me that he can. Those large hands glide across to absorb all of my concern for him. I can almost feel us merge together. Melting together as everything else fades away. His strong hold on me always makes me feel so safe and protected, and the way his face lightly glides against mine makes my eyes flutter closed. I love it when he nudges our faces together. The soft skin running against me so intimately that a tingle runs through my body. Subtly nudging our cheeks together before he buries his face in my neck.

I reach my hand up to gently caress his scalp. Conveying all of the care and affection I feel for him. His silky, wet hair gliding through my fingers is everything I knew it would be if I walked in here tonight. It’s soft, seductive, and close. I feel so close to him. Like there was nothing on this planet that could tear him away from me right now. The grip he has around my body is not harsh enough to hurt me but locked tight. Like his most valuable possession was out in the open, and he couldn’t risk it flying away.

He gently pulls away, only far enough to rest his forehead on mine, but I still play with his hair with my fingers, gently scratching his scalp.

“You asked me, why you, and I didn’t really know then.” He says softly.

“But you know now?” His icy blues search my eyes. It must be six in the morning now, because my phone alarm goes off. It’s faint, and I know eventually it will turn off. So, I don’t break the moment. Not his gaze, not his touch, not this connection.

“You feel like home.” The words slip out of his mouth like he’s spewing them to God. I feel my lips quiver in response to his confession. “You're warm and soothing. Like no matter how much trouble I get in, I could run back to you. I guess I just knew I'd find home in you.” For someone that doesn't believe in love, he sure acts like he does. I don’t resist the swell in my chest this time as it completely takes over and shoves me into the deep water that Damien is. Now, I'll drown myself in him.

“You’re nothing like home for me.” His shoulders fall slightly at my words, and his gaze quickly with it. “My home was dark, lonely, and dishonest. I couldn’t run home; it was the thing I ran from.” I move my hand back to his face and steer his gaze back to my eyes. “You don’t feel anything like that to me. You’re what home is supposed to be.” I watch his lips curl to the side as he leans down and gently presses his lips to mine. This time is different, very tender. His lips brush over mine so softly, and even his tongue is slow and caressing. His hand leaves my back, grazing my skin until he raises it to my jaw. Gently cradling it and pulling me even closer as he grips his left arm around my waist and pulls me up. I wrap myself around him as I run my thumb along his cheek. Embracing the softness of it.

Through our passionate kissing, and his painful groans, he walks with me attached to him back to the bed. Water drips from both of us, but we don’t care. He lays us both down and settles himself between my legs. Our skin gently massaging each other has goosebumps popping up across my body, the sensual rubbing starting a fire throughout. While I halfway expect him to turn me over, command me, or flip me three ways from Sunday. He doesn’t, and as hard as he is, he hasn’t penetrated me yet. Like he’s hesitating, and I know why.

If we have each other this way, we’d completely jump over the edge, into each other. No turning back, no doubts. No excuses for either of us, not that he’s ever had any about me, but about love. We’d both be proving ourselves wrong. His apprehension to believe love is real, and my doubts about him. Both would vanish into thin air.

He begins to kiss under my jaw, but only to come back up to my lips as he continues to caress my face and hold on to my body for dear life. He can’t get enough of me, and I of him. This is what I was trying so hard to resist. The feeling that I knew I couldn’t handle. The feeling that if he ever wasn’t in my life anymore, I’d slowly decompose. I don’t need him, but I want him, and that’s just as dangerous, because I know that after tonight I won’t be able to draw the line between want and need. The thought alone, even as he holds me, terrifies me, but his touch beckons for me to let go. To give in and throw myself into him.

So, with one last deep inhale of his intoxicating smell, and with the swipe of another kiss along my jaw, I let go. I figuratively throw my hands up and hold my flag in surrender. I'm fucked, because I choose to give everything I have to him. I choose him, and I choose the consequences that will come with that. He may destroy me, chew me up and spit me out if he ever decides to be done with me, but at least I’d have him for a little while, and that’s better than not having him, not having US, at all. I'm listening to Charlie, and I'm falling. As hard as I can. He pulls away just enough and looks deep into my eyes.

“You are everything I have ever wanted or needed. You are my heaven and my hell all at the same time. When you say my name my heart beats out of my chest, as if angels are singing to me. Yet, the thought alone of losing you might kill me, because ever since I laid eyes on you, I couldn’t see a life without you in it. You are everything to me.” He says against my lips before pushing us back together. Words aren’t just words anymore. I know he means them; I suppose I’ve known for a while. He’d never leave me.

I spread my legs even further. Silently conveying how much I need him at this moment. My body is searing hot, but this isn’t just lust. This is an overbearing need. A compulsion so strong that denying it might cause my heart to stop beating. He settles against me even closer. Lining himself up with my aching core, and I’m not sure how with his large, muscular size, but he fits so perfectly there. Making it all the more obvious that he was made for me.

As he gently thrusts into me I absorb him through my deep inhale, his intoxicating scent enters my body and makes its way into my chest. Ravaging its way through my body like an infection. One with no cure, and no way of surviving. We’ve never had sex like this. In such an intimate position, at such an intimate time, but it’s never felt more right. Never so absolute. Because this isn’t sex. This is something so much more… As he slowly, delicately, but forcefully thrusts into me, he sighs pleasurably, telling me he’s had the same realization as I had.

Gently, he moves his hand from my face, tracing down my neck, over my shoulder, and up until our arms are flat against the bed, and up to my hand, entangling my fingers with his above our heads and squeezing tight. His large hand somehow intertwined perfectly with my own.

“Fuck…I…” He stops himself by forcing his tongue into my mouth before he kisses up and down my neck again.

“Damien…” Come on, say it. Tell me I'm not crazy for falling for a killer. A murderer who makes my world spin. A criminal who does it for all the right reasons. A man who loves so fiercely in a world surrounded by hate. He presses all of his weight into me as he wraps his anchoring arm around my body. Pulling me into him as tightly as he can. I wrap my free arm around his back and pull him into me. Matching every slow thrust of his with my own. We physically can’t be any closer, but I need him to be. The tiny, atom sized space between us is still too much. I need him to be so deep inside me, and so pressed against me, that we’ll never resurface separated. My body tenses to his needy thrusts. My pussy flutters as if it’s trying to suck him in. “You can’t leave me…”

“Never, little wolf. Never. You're mine. Forever.” His thrusts while still slow, become more forceful. His cock hardens even more inside me, and I can tell that he’s chasing both of our releases. As my body continues to tighten and build, I feel myself clench on his length as tightly as I can. The pressure in my lower abdomen is rumbling to a point where I know I’m going to explode. “Ashia…I…” His words stop as I cling to him and come. Clamping down around him so tightly I’m not sure I’ll ever let him go. My legs shake wildly as my intense orgasm overtakes me and accompanies his twitching cock.

One more thrust before he buries himself as deep as he can go, our bodies completely flush, and shakily comes inside me. He buries his face in my neck and pants as his hot seed fills me. Causing warmth to spread across my body. His hips jerk and grind, before he stops completely and relaxes on top of me. Though he’s sure not to crush me with his weight.

He keeps himself inside me. Even as he pulls back to kiss me again and I wrap my legs around him. Locking my ankles to keep him there. I don’t want him to leave this spot. I never want this moment to end. I feel as if I saw proof worthy of worship. As if all of the answers I’ve been searching for are right here, and there’s no room for doubt.

Gently, he begins kissing my cheek as he takes his hand from around me and brings it up to my head. Caressing my hair in the most loving way. His lips move from my cheek and explore everything in their reach. My forehead, my nose, my lips, jaw, and neck. Even trailing down to my collarbone and chest, and though I can tell he wants to touch me more, he doesn’t let go of my hand.

I'm not scared anymore. He’s showing he’s vulnerable, innocent even. Letting himself go to my mercy, and I feel his emotions in it. He’s giving everything to me with his touch. Every tiny shred that he had left is now in the palm of my hand. He’s trusting me with feelings he wasn’t even sure were real, and I’ve never felt so powerful, so confident, or so needed. I feel his emotions pour into me and it’s like suddenly I believe everything he's ever said to me. He may not have said he loves me yet, but I feel it there.

I'm not scared anymore.

He’s holding my hand.