Page 17 of Exile (Dance with My Demons #4)

Avery

I send Theo and Grey away at the first sign of morning light. Of course, I'm using the term loosely since it's still pitch black in here.

Thankfully, my cell manages to stay on, the battery holding out since the only function I used all night was the torch light.

I don't know why, but there's something about daytime that feels safe. Like the monsters can't harm you when the sun is out. Maybe it's because fear stems from darkness and the unknown.

Knowing it's a new day, I feel a little more in control. My appreciation for the guys continues to grow, especially after they sat on the cold floor the whole night, making me feel protected.

Being able to speak to them, even through the door, erased that weird sense of time paralysis that I first experienced when I was locked in here.

I remember Theo mentioning that food only comes once a day, and my stomach rumbles at the thought. The gap under the door isn't big enough for the guys to sneak snacks, but I'm remaining optimistic that perhaps they will be able to convince someone to let me out of here.

The hours continue to pass though, and I keep checking the time, trying to keep a sense of reality.

By early afternoon, I find myself nodding off into a light sleep, my entire body out of whack by the constant darkness in the room.

Outside noises echo downstairs and in my sleepy state, I don't hear the door open.

Footsteps start to bring me out of my slumber, but when I blink rapidly, attempting to wake, all I can make out is a blurred shadow in the corner.

What the fuck.

Maybe I'm imagining it. Hallucinations are probably a side effect of this room, and even though my heart starts pounding against my chest, I convince myself that I'm just seeing things.

"Hello wife."

My eyes snap open, flinging myself upright so quickly that my tailbone rubs uncomfortably against the thin mattress.

There's no mistaking it, not a single doubt that I'm imagining the voice that came from the shadows.

"Damon?" I ask warily, pushing to my feet.

Well, this is going to be awkward if the shadow evaporates when I reach the corner. But as I approach, a more solid outline comes into view .

My hands brush against a tall frame, body jerking slightly from my touch. But I feel it—soft padding like a bandage on his torso.

It's him.

Damon lets out a grunt as I throw my arms around him, squeezing his body in a tight hug. Hands snake around my back and I bury my face into his chest.

"You're back," I mutter into his shirt.

"You seem surprised," he teases. "You were told, weren't you?"

Laughing quietly in relief, I shake my head. "Yeah. I'm just so glad to see you."

The faint smell of lemons hits me and I recognize it as the cheap hospital soap.

It doesn't feel like he's in the usual Lilydale attire, probably gifted with new clothing like I was.

My fingers trace the outline of a zipper—a hoodie I suspect—and when they reach the bottom of the material, grazing against his lower abdomen, he grabs my hand gently.

"I can't leave you alone for five minutes apparently," he says, indicating my current predicament.

"I was overdue for a trip to solitary confinement," I joke dryly. "Blame Whitface."

Damon hums in agreement. "Yes, I've been informed of the situation. You stabbed him."

Amusement coats his tone, and I almost recoil at the perplexing feeling of pride I feel. That can't be a normal reaction—what type of sick person has a praise kink over stabbing someone?

Well, obviously Grey would. That man and his strange stabbing kink. Part of me jokingly wonders if he was jealous that I didn't stab him instead. He's been literally begging for it since day one.

"He deserved it," I answer. "Wanted me to sign an annulment."

"I thought you would have run from me at the first possible opportunity."

I link our hands. "You said you'd just chase me if I did."

"That I did," he agrees fondly. "But I suspect you'd want me to catch you."

"Always," I breathe out, pushing up on my tippy-toes to find his lips.

When our mouths touch, suddenly solitary confinement is the least of my thoughts. He tastes exquisite, my body bursting with excitement and energy that Damon is right in front of me.

Alive.

In perfect Damon fashion, he takes control, gripping me tight around my waist, pulling me flush against him. His tongue demands entrance, and I give it without hesitation.

I'm on the verge of climbing him like a tree when I remember his wound, pulling back. "Does it still hurt? "

He lets out a disgruntled sound at the sudden breakage, hands yanking me forward again until I'm pressed against him. "Stop worrying about it for a minute and just kiss me."

I don't need to be told twice, though I am planning to circle back to the pain discussion at a later time. Whether or not Damon admits it, he went through a lot. And even him, with his Superman powers, isn't immune to bullet wounds. But he has Grey to protect him, even if Damon insists he's fine.

I wouldn't put it past Alexander to try to take advantage of his weakened physical state. But we have a whole goddamn circus of survivors to defend our territory.

My tongue presses against his as my body pushes up as I try to hold my balance. I hate that we're in the dark, and I have a million more questions for him, but right now… this is perfect.

His hands slide down my waist, holding my hips. Damon, taking control of the situation as usual, surprises me by slipping his hand under the waistband of my shorts. My breath catches, feet slamming flat on the ground as I blink rapidly in the dark, trying to summon night vision.

Before I can discover any newfound abilities, his finger pulls the crotch of my underwear aside, dipping into my heat. Then, without dragging things out, slides straight into me.

"Damon," I breathe out. "What are you doing?"

I'm no stranger to random sex locations within Lilydale, but this I didn't see coming .

"Consummating our marriage," he replies, holding me still with his arm. His finger thrusts in and out of my cunt, and despite my best argument laying forgotten on my tongue, my eyes roll back in ecstasy.

"What if someone catches us?" I ask with a small moan.

"Let them."

"But you're hurt."

His thumb draws lazy circles around my clit, my breathing intensifying and coming out to ragged pants as another finger slowly penetrates me.

I no longer trust myself to stay quiet, my hands cupping his face and lips seeking out his. It doesn't take long until I'm falling apart on his hand, Damon swallowing my cries as my legs begin to shake.

Just when I think we're finished, he switches us, my back hitting the wall. Dropping to his knees, he slings my leg over his shoulder, his tongue lashing out against my clit, immediately bringing me toward the edge again.

Not once do his fingers leave my body, not that I'd let him.

I'm clenching so hard that for a second, I worry I might break his bones, if that's even possible.

Before I can contemplate it and let my mind run wild with panic that I could be hurting him, especially being on the floor, his tongue and fingers hurl me over the cliff.

"There," he murmurs, getting to his feet. "That's all the pain medication I need." I let out a squeal as he lifts me off the ground, pushing my back against the wall .

"Oh," I try to joke, barely able to breathe. "So, I'm essentially doing you a medical favor? That's the story you're running with?"

"Avery," he says sternly. "If I don't bury my cock into your cunt right now, I might actually succumb to my injuries. It's all I've been able to think about while stuck in that awful hospital bed."

I let out a sharp gasp as he impales me in one swift motion, my body stretching around his length. "Your injuries though…" I argue.

"Respectfully, shut up. Your husband is fucking you right now."

He emphasizes each word with a brutal thrust, hitting that spot deep inside me. My head falls back against the wall, moans increasing in volume as he continues to fuck me relentlessly.

"Touch yourself," he demands. "I need to feel you come on me."

I reach down between us, cringing as my arm brushes against the bandage on his abdomen, but he doesn't flinch or waver at all. Stroking my clit, I roll my hips as his cock dives in and out, until I'm screaming his name. It echoes around solitary confinement, sending him over the edge.

"Fuck, Avery," he growls, thrusting into me once more and shooting his release.

Pressing my lips to his in the dark, I stay wrapped up in his arms until he lowers me to my feet a few minutes later .

"Are you okay?" I ask breathlessly. "Did I hurt you?"

His reply is cut off with the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs outside, my frame tensing up.

Shit—the guards.

"Are you lovebirds ready? Did you consummate yet?" Grey's voice calls out. "Free time is kicking off and I'm worried Avery will get even more pale if she remains in there. She needs more Vitamin D."

"Let me guess—you have a shot for her?" Theo answers, deliberately ruining the bit.

"Why you gotta out me like that?" Grey groans, his shadow entering the room. "Wow—smells like sweet little killer in here."

Kicking off from the wall, I muffle a protest, thankful that no one can see my face. "Get me out of here. Please," I beg, desperate to get away from this room.

Grey reaches out through the darkness, gripping my hand as he starts to lead me toward the door. "Deadman?"

"Coming."

"I bet you did," Theo quickly interjects, earning a gasp from Grey.

"You asshole. That was my line!"

Turns out that the moment Damon arrived back at Lilydale, he all but kicked in Whittingham's door. The asshole still wasn't present, probably nursing a bruised ego and busted hand, but his office was unguarded due to his lack of presence.