Page 38

Chapter thirty-eight

Ashia

It’s been four hours since he left, and I haven’t moved from the couch. I keep watching the driveway, hoping to see him pull back in soon. Four hours has felt like four days, and I can’t breathe. What if he doesn’t come home? I don’t even know who to notify. I’m sure Carter does, but that doesn’t mean it would be any easier. I suppose I knew that this is the life I would ask for if I let him in, but I never thought I would be this terrified to lose him. Why did I let him leave like that? The last thing he’s going to hear from me is how I was yelling at him; us arguing. Why did I do that?

I’ve always heard that no matter how angry you are with someone, that you should still tell them how you feel before you leave. You know, just in case you don’t see them again. I’ve never had someone I felt the need to say that too. Most of the people in my life, I never had to worry about missing them. Serena, her parents, and Emmett, of course. But not anyone else. Should I talk to them like that every time I see them? Oh great, now I’m thinking about losing them too.

I can’t believe that those were the last words I said to him. There were so many other things I could have said. I shouldn’t have brought up Henry’s death. Not with the guilt he already feels, I’m just so worried and couldn’t control what came out of my mouth… He can act tough all day long, but I saw the bruises. The injuries. Ran my hands over them and tried to ease his pain. I can’t imagine not hearing his voice or looking into his eyes. He’s completely taken over my life, and I don’t want it to end. What condition is he going to come home in? If he comes home? He was already so hurt. Would they even bring him here? Would they even know how or where to notify me? Would they notify me at all? I need to ask him these things when he gets back. If he gets back.

I’m startled by Carter walking in from the garage. Looking tired and disheveled but not like he’s in shock or mourning. Ser and I look in his direction and his face softens when he catches me looking. Carter does seem really nice from the few times I’ve talked to him, and now that I know he’s a virgin, a part of me wonders how he does this every day. If earlier was any glimpse into what they do every day, how the hell does he do it? How do any of them do it?

“They’re done. He’s on his way to the Basement, and then he’ll be back.” Carter tells me, obviously trying to be reassuring.

“Is he okay?” I ask quietly, partially afraid of the answer.

“He’s fine.” I shakily exhale a breath that I’ve been practically holding for four hours. I’m sure the relief is flooding my face. He walks up to the couch and gently shakes my shoulder, trying to comfort me.

“How bad was it?” I ask him, but he hesitates before opening his mouth. Darting his gaze around the room like he has to think about what he’s about to say.

“I’m sure he’s much calmer now.” I just nod my head at him, not wanting to push him. It must be bad. If it was just a couple of people, he would’ve just told me. “Do you want me to show you to his room?” He asks calmly.

“No, I want to wait for him. Thanks, though.” He nods and turns as Serena stands up. The tequila bottle she’s been drinking out of still in her hand.

“You can show me to my room.” Serena says to him, drunk, and clearly flirting with him. She lowers the tequila bottle to her side, though it gently sways with her and her propped out hip.

“O-Oh! Right! Right, you need a room too. Yeah, we’ll put you right across the hall.”

“Actually, what’s the farthest room from them?” She smirks at him as she sways. Rolling her hips side to side. Slowly.

“Oh my God, Ser.” I roll my eyes at her as she shushes me and looks back at him. She doesn’t bother hiding her smirk or how her eyes are half-lidded. Partially from lust and partially from alcohol. He gently backs away and walks back over to me. Practically tiptoeing like Serena is going to lung at him. He cautiously bends down.

“What is happening?” He whispers to me.

“Is there a particular reason you’re a virgin?” I whisper back to him, and he looks at me shocked. Eyes wide with his mouth barely hanging open like I’ve stunned him. I suppose that bit of information is not common knowledge.

“No?” He says nervously.

“Do you still want to be a virgin?” I ask curiously.

“No.” He says punctually.

“Then go with her.” He sharply nods his head.

“Ten-Four.” He stands up and turns to face her again. Standing tall and steady, trying to shake his nervousness. “I’ll show you to the farthest room.” Carter gestures to the stairs and she waits for him to get closer to her before she walks forward. They begin walking up the stairs together, and about halfway up, Serena grabs his hand and winks at me. Poor thing. He has no idea what he’s getting himself into. He’ll be more addicted to sex than Damien.

He'll probably be hungry when he gets back. I haven’t seen him eat today, and I’m sure after all of the excitement he’s going to be exhausted. That’s what a normal girlfriend would do when her boyfriend came home for work right? She’d make dinner. Who cares if it’s one in the morning or he potentially murdered a bunch of people? I feel like the base principles still apply. I get up and walk into the magnificent kitchen he has. Looking at it’s all black cabinets, counters, and appliances. The same forest green paint covers the walls, except for a beautiful copper and black marbled tile backsplash under the cabinets to match the countertops.

I walk over to the copper-colored sink and start by washing my hands. Well, not just my hands. I feel like a surgeon washing the blood off my arms as high as I can in this sink. A part of me is sickened, yet mesmerized as I watch the swirling red go down the drain. I never knew I was capable of doing that…killing someone…but if I could go back to that moment, I’d do it again to protect them, and that clarity helps settle my nerves and tears me away from the sink.

Opening the fridge, I see that it’s packed full of food. There are all sorts of meats, vegetables, milk, different cheeses, and anything one could need for almost any meal. He really wanted to make sure this place was stocked for us, and his thoughtfulness just has no bounds. I see down at the bottom, on the left shelf, he has strawberries, protein milk, bananas, a bag of granola, and vanilla yogurt all sitting next to each other. That’s what I make my smoothies out of, and he remembered that for some weird reason, I keep my granola in the fridge instead of in a dry cabinet. God, I'm such a bitch. I shouldn’t have yelled at him the way I did or have been so difficult over the past few weeks.

I walk back over to the kitchen island after grabbing the steaks and vegetables, and I go to rinse them off, but it just feels weird. I just washed blood down this sink. Does he have a special sink to wash blood off in? No, of course not. That’s ridiculous. He would just shower. Shit. Should I shower first? No. What if he comes home before I can finish the food? But I really shouldn’t be cooking in these bloodied clothes. I'll just steal one of his shirts. Maybe Carter should have shown me where his room is. His room? Our room? He did say we were home, and that we could stay here from now on if I wanted. So yeah, our room.

I put the steaks back and make my way up the stairs to find OUR room. That’s so crazy to think of. Does he really want to share this magnificent house with me? Was he just saying those things? He seemed so content at the apartment, I had no idea he’d own a place like this. It’s beautiful. I’ve never even dreamed of something like this.

As I make my way to the top of the beautiful, open, iron staircase, I’m brought to the balcony on my left, and the normal hallway to my right. The same forest green paint follows the walls up here as well as the same beautiful dark hard wood floors. There are three doors on the balcony side, and four doors on the right, two being on each side, then what looks like another staircase at the end of the hall. I’ve never been in a house like this. Where would his bedroom be? These big houses have master bedrooms, right? Probably at the end of the hall? I should just ask Carter.

“Carter?” I call out quietly and start to walk down the hallway. A few steps down the hall, and I hear Serena’s moans come from the very end. Very pleasurable moans from what I understand. I can’t help but blush a little and feel a little awkward. “Well, never mind, and I’m definitely not going that way.” I chuckle to myself and then turn around to walk back.

I check the room directly to the left of the balcony, and it’s definitely a bedroom, but more like a guest room. The bed is completely made, and there’s a slight film of dust over all of the furniture. It has very minimal décor, and there’s no clothes or anything in the empty closet. I move to the door on the right of this room and my mouth drops. Talk about master suite.

It has a large…I’m not even sure what size bed this is. A large lake of a bed. I thought my queen size bed was big. Oh, my god. It looks so comfortable. It has a large black comforter, with six fluffed pillows, and they each complement the black bedding with different tones of grey, dark red, and black. At the end of the bed, I notice a big cube, and as I walk up to it, I see that it’s a large, king sized, fluffy blanket in a deep, dark rose color. Brand new and still in the packaging. He knows I love these blankets, and I like cuddling up with them when I watch movies. He bought me one in my favorite color, and the gesture causes my chest to swell.

Looking around the rest of the room, I see a laundry basket on top of his dresser with folded clothes in it. The stacks are surprisingly neat and sorted to not topple over, and the fact that my man knows how to fold laundry just makes him even better. I look through the load until I find one of his T-shirts. Lifting it to my nose, I take a deep inhale of his scent. Finding comfort in the soft material for a moment before I set it aside. I take off my dress and bra, which are soaked in blood, and just throw them away in the trash can at the edge of the room. I’m sort of aggravated that one of my favorite dresses is ruined, but it’s not like I had the encounter planned out.

The bathroom door by the trash can grabs my attention, and the room is about as magnificent as the bedroom. It has a large copper colored, jetted tub, next to a large glass enclosed walk-in shower with copper fixtures. It's all black tile floors and walls compliment the dark wooden cabinets. One on each side of the beautiful black marbled countertop. Streaks of copper and gold run around on the surface underneath his and her copper-colored sinks. I search the tall cabinets for a washcloth and, thank God, all of the towels are black. I suppose with all of the blood he deals with, white is not a good choice.

Once I wipe myself down and put on the T-shirt, I throw my hair up with one of the hair bows he put in a drawer in the bathroom. Along with hairbrushes, a toothbrush, my favorite body wash, and shampoo and conditioner. This sweet man thought of everything. Even down to the brand. I can’t help but shake my head lightly. Disappointed in myself that I was even slightly surprised.

I go back downstairs to start dinner. Not oblivious to the fact that I need to make enough for four. From the moans and screams coming from down the hall upstairs, I imagine it’s safe to walk around only in his t-shirt and my thong. His shirt covers my ass completely, anyway. Stretching halfway down my thighs. So, on the off chance that Carter is leaving that room tonight, he wouldn’t be able to see anything.

Looking over the refrigerator one more time, I rethink my earlier thoughts of cooking steak. I'm sure with Damien’s muscles he eats a lot of red meat, right? I remember he said something about wanting to take me out to eat steak once, so I'm assuming he likes it. He does seem to have some type of meat with whatever meal he eats, but he's never really seemed that obsessed with what he puts in his body. So, I grab the steaks again and get the right ingredients to make a warm, comforting meal.

After about forty-five minutes it’s almost ready for him, and as I slice the steak, all I can think about is how he fucking fileted that guy earlier. He was protecting me. Again. Well, I would say that was a little more than protecting. I imagine his anger took over for him in that moment, much like it did tonight, but on a weird level I understand it. I mean, I did the same for him moments before he gutted a man alive. I need to learn to protect myself physically, so I don't keep getting him into this shit. He has so much to worry about, the last thing he needs is to be paranoid about my safety. Hopefully he can come home tonight and relax a little.

But, what if he doesn’t like what I made? What if I’m a shitty cook? That could be the first thing he doesn’t like about me. Well, there’s probably plenty of things, but he hasn’t told me any, and he probably never would. I’m positive my cooking skills are nothing compared to his, but I’m sure it’s at least edible.

As I pull the last pan out of the oven, my attention is drawn away to the door leading to the garage opening. I tense up. Unwillingly and unexpectedly. A million thoughts run through my mind in only the span of a few seconds. Is he really alright? Was Carter lying? Is he upset with me? What happened out there that was so bad that Carter couldn’t tell me about it? Damien was in a mask of rage when he left, and I can only imagine the carnage he left behind.

He walks through the door looking no worse than he did when he left. His clothes are still covered in blood, but it’s now dried, and I can see where he’s wiped it off his face and neck. There doesn’t appear to be any other bruises or cuts than he had previously, and as he walks in, it doesn’t look like he’s hurt anything else. I feel the relief wash over me like a hot shower, and my body instantly releases a tension I didn’t know I was holding.

Thank. Fucking. God.

I inhale a sharp, deep breath as tears sting my eyes. He home. He's actually here, and he's okay. Without thinking, I throw the oven mitt off of my hand. Not paying attention in the direction it falls and sprint to him. Throwing my arms around him, burying my face in his neck, and holding on to him so tightly that I’m not sure he can breathe. He drops not only his duffle bag, but the bag I packed earlier, and wraps his arms around me. Holding me just as securely as I’m holding him.

“I’m sorry.” I say through my tears. My voice coming out soft and ragged. The pitiful sound muffled by how deeply my face is submerged. “I’m so sorry.” He shushes me quietly. Pulling away before closing the distance and kissing me. Pressing his lips to mine so passionately that I can feel the longing he’s felt since he left. He pulls back and kisses my cheek before he speaks.

“You don’t have to be sorry, baby. I get it, I do. I'm sorry too.” I can’t help but conceal my face in the crook above his shoulder again. Cradling the back of his head in my hand, I can’t resist the compulsion to scratch his scalp as I breathe him in. Letting his scent and presence seep into my soul. “I’m okay. We’re okay.” His grip on me tightens, and I feel his desperate breaths make their way down my neck. After a few moments, I finally release him, before he’s ready for me to, I think, and then he shoots me a confused look. “What is all of this?” A smirk sprouts on his face as he looks to the kitchen, and back at me, looking me up in down in his shirt.

“Oh, I-I made you dinner. Or breakfast? Whatever you want to call it. It’s two in the morning. But either way, I figured you'd be hungry. So, I made food.” Why am I rambling? Why am I so nervous? It’s food. It can’t be that bad right?

“You didn’t have to, baby girl. You're going to need sleep with what we have planned today.” He starts running his hands over my hips and lower back as he continues to look me over.

“You really think I could sleep after you stormed out like that?” I snap at him, and he just tilts his head and smiles at me.

“No, I guess not.” He says softly and my chest swells with it.

“We’re still going somewhere? I figured you’d lock me up like Rapunzel.”

He chuckles.

“Of course we are. I need to get you out and about. Loosen you up a little. I think we did enough tonight for us to sneak out of town. You'll be safe where we’re going, but if me locking you up is what you want me to do, I’m more than happy to oblige.” He bites his bottom lip as I lead him over to the kitchen, and as he washes his hands, I make his plate. Before I can give it to him, he grabs me from behind again. His hand rubs my right hip as his other reaches around and up to caress my cheek. “It smells great.” He whispers in my ear, and I can feel my face heat up.

“You don’t have to eat it.” I shake my head and push out through nervous chuckles.

“Fuck yes, I'm going to eat it. I'm starving.” He tilts my head back and kisses me again. “Thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome.” I say against his lips and turn, handing him his plate as he leans against the kitchen island across from me. I jump up and sit myself on the opposite counter. Anxiously waiting to see what he thinks. Without taking a bite he looks at me peculiarly.

“Are you hungry?”

“Hell no, I’ve felt like I was going to throw up for the past five hours.” I try to respond comically, but it just comes out as another anxious giggle. His face droops lightly, and I can see the sadness in his eyes.

“I know. I'm sorry.” I shake my head frantically.

“Don’t be. I shouldn’t have yelled at you or brought up Henry. I know what you do, and I know it’s important. I just don’t want you to put yourself in danger for me. I’m not…” He interrupts me.

“Don’t you fucking say what I think is about to come out of your mouth.” He grins at me to tell me he’s mostly joking as he takes a bite. He chews a few times, and I watch as his eyes glaze over with a delighted sheen. “Holy shit, have you ever made this before?” He says amusingly as he chews.

“No, actually I just threw a bunch of shit together to be completely honest.” I shuffle my hands in an unknowing gesture as I speak.

“Well, you need to remember how you made this, cause it needs to be my every ‘after mission meal’. It is so damn good.” He shovels a large fork full in his mouth, and while normally I’d find that repulsive, I love it when he does it. It makes me laugh. Come to think of it, he makes me laugh a lot.

“Okay, babe. I'll remember.”

He looks up at me as he continues to chew.

“That’s twice now.” He smiles, the corners of his lips curling into a cocky grin.

“What is?”

“That you've called me that.” I smile back at him. Not bothering to fight the flush of my face.

“Do you have a problem with it?” He swallows and licks his bottom lip.

“Absolutely not.” God, he looks so good standing there. His legs are crossed at his feet and his muscular arms are bent at his chest. That masculine jaw moving up and down in a completely innocent way, but I see nothing but obscenity. I lean back on the counter, scoot my pelvis forward slightly, and open my legs for him. Giving him a good view between my legs.

“You sure about that, baby?” I say seductively as his eyes lock onto my core. That primal desire shooting across his eyes, and he bites his lip instead of taking another bite of his food.

“Oh? I get desert too?” He practically throws his bowl on the counter as he pushes off and into me. His tongue attacks mine with urgency the moment our lips touch. An all-out brawl for dominance until he decides that he’s won the fight. He moves to kissing and nibbling under my jaw and my neck as he moves his hands underneath my shirt to caress my body. Moving his hand up and down the curve on my side, grazing the side of my breast, and back down to over my stomach, then traveling to the string of my thong. I feel his hardened cock pressing against me through his jeans, and I feel the over-powering need to have him inside me.

I manage to unbutton his pants when I look over to see Carter coming down the stairs, only in boxers. My searing hot, mostly exposed body turns freezing cold the moment my eyes connect with his form descending the steps.

“Oh, my God!” I yelp as I flinch my legs closed and pull the shirt back down. Damien turns around, his back to me with his arms caging me in behind him to shield me.

“Carter, what the fuck?” He asks.

“She gave me a break…so I-I was going to…to get something to eat…” He’s walking like a zombie, looking half asleep and half tortured. Wobbling back and forth and dragging his feet. His eyes are unfocused and glossed over, and he’s looking around the room like he’s never been here before. Damien chuckles and shakes his head.

“Did someone drug him? What’s wrong with him?” Damien asks me.

“Serena and her voodoo cooch. That’s what’s wrong with him.” I lift my head a little. “Ser! You can’t kill Carter with your vagina!” I yell out, knowing she’s probably listening.

“We’ve only gone three times! He’s fine!” She yells back, from what I can tell, from the top of the stairs.

“What is wrong with her?” Damien asks as he laughs.

“She’s an angel…” Carter says, his words half slurred.

“Is he drunk!” I ask her.

“Hell no!” She yells back.

“Oh my God, she broke Carter.” I say as I bury my face in his back. Damien reaches for his bowl and hands it to him, careful not to put my half naked self in his line of sight.

“Here you go, man. There’s plenty more.”

“Thanks, D. You’re the best…” He turns and starts to shuffle back towards the stairs as he takes a bite. “This is really good, Ash…” He says with his mouth full.

“Thank you…” I say, but the words come out as a squeak. The moment he’s not in sight anymore, we both burst out in laughter. His chest rumbles against my forehead, and my body is shaking from how hard I’m howling. He turns back to me, cups my face in his hands, and kisses me again sweetly. “We’re going to have to check on him before we leave. Who knows what she’ll do to him by sunrise.”

Damien looks away briefly in annoyance.

“Yeah, absolutely. Serena’s like a damn black widow.”

“Don’t tell her that, she’ll get a God complex.”

He laughs and then looks back down at me endearingly.

“So, what about desert?” He says as his lip slightly curls up. He kisses me again only to pull away and caress my cheek. His face softens and he almost looks dubious. “So, you don’t hate me?”

I scrunch my eyebrows in perplexity. “Damien, why would I hate you?”

His features ease. Almost saddened.

“For what happened today. I never wanted you to see me like that.” I move my hands to his face and caress his jaw. Hating the uncertainty in his gaze.

“I know who you are. I've known for a while. I may not have witnessed it before today, but I’ve heard the stories. Either from that podcast or Tony after he sees the crime scenes. Somehow, seeing it today made it easier. Clearer. I’ve always admired what you've done but today showed me why you do it. So, no baby, I don’t hate you. Quite the opposite actually.” I say as his lips pull to the side in a slight grin. “I'm glad I saw it. I never want you to feel like you have to hide a part of yourself from me.” His smile only grows larger. Reaching his eyes and crinkling in the corners. He reaches under my ass and picks me up before wrapping my legs around his waist. I gasp from the surprise, and I wrap my arms around his neck to hold on. Not that he’d ever let me fall. “What are you doing?”

“Taking my girl to our room.” He forcefully plants his lips to mine, and I cling onto him as he begins to carry me up the stairs.