Page 10

Chapter ten

~ DAMIEN~

Leading her toward the rooftop, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve royally fucked up. Not just a little misstep. No, this was a leap into disaster. Blackmailing her to get her here? That’s a move I can’t undo, a line crossed that even I know shouldn’t have been. The way she looked at me when I mentioned Rowan, her eyes flashing between shock and betrayal, had nearly made me second-guess the whole thing.

But I didn’t.

I open the door to the pool area, the crisp night air brushing against our skin as we step out into the open. Ares had been here a few hours prior, warning me to stop. And I’m doing the exact opposite.

The city sprawls beneath us, lights glittering like fallen stars. The bar is sleek and perfectly curated, a space that usually serves for celebrations, not whatever this is—some twisted game I started but can’t seem to stop playing.

Her footsteps are hesitant behind me, the sound barely audible.

I shouldn’t have brought her here. I should have left her at Rowan’s doorstep the second she opened it. Instead, I’m dragging her deeper into this mess. But the way she looks at me, with those wide, green eyes, full of uncertainty and a curiosity that stirs something deep inside me, won’t let me stay away.

I head straight to the bar, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and pouring it into a glass. Without even asking, I make a light fruity cocktail for her. I know she’s not the type to handle much alcohol. She just needs enough to loosen her up and make her feel less tense.

I walk over and hand her the drink, watching her reaction closely. She’s still wearing her sleeping set, but this one is longer, and she’s managed to put a small cream cardigan over it on her way out the door.

Her fingers brush against mine as she takes the glass, innocent but enough to send a spark. She brings the drink to her lips, pausing just before she takes a sip, her eyes darting to mine.

She surprises me when she lowers the glass and asks, “Why did you invite me to drink with you?”

Straight to the point.

“Why not?” My grip tightens around my whiskey glass.

Because I’m a fucking idiot who’s begging for your brother’s boot up my ass.

Her gaze drops for a second before she sits on the outdoor couch and tucks her legs close to her chest, drink still in hand.

“You probably have a thousand better things to do than hang out with me,” she says quietly. “If Rowan asked you to keep an eye on me while he’s out… or I don’t know… babysit me or something, you don’t have to. I can just go back. I won’t tell him.”

What? Her words surprise me, sinking deeper than I’m comfortable with. Babysit?

Is that what she thinks this is? That she’s some kind of burden I’ve been tasked with?

That gnawing feeling twists in my gut. I don’t like that she sees herself that way. I hate it. I’m risking my best friend’s wrath because everything seems worth it if I can just spend a minute in her presence.

But I can’t dive into that mess right now. She’ll deflect if I try to dig too deep, so instead, I slide my smirk into place, keeping it casual.

“How about this,” I say instead. “We’re going to play a drinking game,” I announce, leaning against the bar with a coolness I don’t feel. Her words are still burning in my head.

“A drinking game? Her eyes widen slightly.

“Haven’t you played some in college?” I ask, walking around the bar.

“Not really. I told you, I don’t drink much,” she says as she, ironically, takes another sip.

I take the time to turn on the surround system, soft music instantly enveloping us.

I pour five shots of whiskey for myself and five watered-down vodka ones for her with a small pump of strawberry syrup. I’m not here to get her drunk. Just enough to loosen her up and make her relax a little.

“What are the rules?” she asks warily.

“We ask each other questions,” I explain, my voice dripping with amusement. “If you don’t want to answer, you take a shot. If you do answer, I have to take one. Simple.”

She hesitates but eventually nods, her curiosity piquing despite her reservations.

“Go ahead,” I urge her, walking back to where she’s sitting with a tray of shots. I set them down on the table and take a seat right next to her. I turn on the fire pit and sink back into the cushion. “Ask me anything.”

“What’s your favorite thing to do at home?” she asks me, her fingers wrapped around her glass.

Sex. But I can’t say that without her drifting further away. What do I like to do at home? Besides the fucking, I also… swim, cook, read sometimes, work. Then, it occurred to me that I have no idea. Had no idea before she came back. Now, my favorite thing is watching her through the window, but that I most certainly can’t tell her.

“I like to spend time with myself. Whatever it is.” The lie tastes funny on my tongue, and I wash it down with a shot of whiskey.

“But… you answered. You don’t have to drink,” She looks at me, confused.

“Just warming up,” I lie again. I didn’t want to answer, so I drank instead. Rules are rules. “You don’t have to drink one. I took one for you.”

“Breaking the rules already?” She raises a brow.

I huff out a laugh. “Did you expect anything else of me?” I raise a brow back. She purses her lips in an attempt to stop her smile, which makes me grin even more. She’s loosening up. Good.

We start slow with small, harmless questions to ease her into it. She asks about anything that’s safe territory. I tease her back, throwing in a few flirty jabs here and there, watching her squirm as the tension between us builds with every question. Before I know it, I’m refilling our shots, though I don’t put any alcohol in hers this time. My little liar’s had enough for tonight. I don’t tell her that as I come back with the second tray.

She’s loosening up. I can see it in the way her shoulders relax, in the way her laughter spills out a little more easily.

But then, I ask her something different.

“Why are you hiding our skating lessons from Rowan?” I ask casually, leaning forward slightly to catch every flicker of her reaction.

Her face freezes for a moment. She glances at her shot and considers taking it, but then sighs, lifting her gaze to meet mine. “Because he forbade it,” she says quietly.

“He did?” I raise both eyebrows. Well, fuck me. I knew Rowan didn’t want Avery back on the ice, but I didn’t think he went as far as to actually forbid her from doing it. Yeah, this is getting worse. I’m in deep shit.

She bites her lip, looking down at her drink. “Yeah… and I guess I didn’t want him to worry. He already thinks I’m too fragile.”

Too fragile? That’s not what I see when I look at her.

“Drink,” she reminds me, pointing at the shot. I chuckle, throwing the liquid back and feeling the burn down my throat. “My turn,” she announces. “What’s the most reckless thing you’ve done?”

Her question catches me off-guard. She’s sliding into a grey area, neither safe nor dangerous, but it’s still progress that I welcome. What’s the most reckless thing I’ve done?

Fell in love with my best friend’s little sister.

“Probably that time I assaulted a police officer and flipped his car sideways,” I reply. It’s one of the most reckless things I’ve done, though I don’t know if it should be at the top. Suddenly, tens of other answers flash through my mind, each more scandalous than the rest.

Damn, how am I not in prison?

“You what?” Her eyes are threatening to pop out of her skull. “What happened?”

“I was out with the boys. Saw a girl get groped by a creep, smashed a bottle on his head, cracked a few of his ribs. Got arrested for it.” I shake my head, the memory feeling like a lifetime ago. “While he drove me back to the police station, he made a comment about the girl begging for it because of her clothes. That specific police car had no partition in the back, so—” I inhale deeply, recalling the drunken rage I’d felt and the moment I realized what I was doing. “Before I knew it, I was strangling the cop from behind with my handcuffs, and he lost control of the car. Tipped us over. The ambulance came, more police, I got arrested all over again, Rowan and Ares came to bail me out, and here I am.” I shrug, holding my hands out in a ta-da gesture. “I have a scar on the side of my torso from the crash as a reminder not to strangle people while they’re driving. Not particularly exciting, just… reckless.”

I look at Avery whose eyes are wide, her lips slightly parted, as she stares at me in shock.

It was all over the news about a year ago. I’m surprised she didn’t hear about it.

The look on her face doesn’t change. She’s staring at me in pure shock.

“Damn, too much?” I wince. I should have probably kept this to myself.

“That,” she finally speaks, “is. So. Frickin. Badass.”

I scowl in confusion. Avery just cursed. Well, sort of.

“You think so?” I smile, though my confused scowl is still in place.

“Are you kidding me?” She sets her drink back on the table in front of us and turns back to me enthusiastically. “This sounds like a scene from a movie. That guy got what he deserved. Both of them. And now, you have a badass scar to remember it.”

Now, it’s my turn to stare in shock. I got too drunk, and now I’m hallucinating. Sweet, shy, nervous Avery is telling me that I’m badass for strangling a cop and causing a car crash. Looks like there’s a whole different person under there, hidden away beneath layers. And I can’t wait to dig her out, the real her.

“Well, drink up.” I point my chin at her shots that contain absolutely zero alcohol. She takes her shot and sets the glass back down.

“This is yummy,” she comments, and I fight back a laugh. Yummy? “What is it?”

Orange juice and a pump of strawberry syrup for you, sweet cheeks.

“Not your turn to ask questions.” I shake my head.

“Fine. You gave me a lot, so it’s only fair for me to answer the next one. Go ahead.” She nods with certainty and folds her legs, leaning sideways on the backrest.

“Did you date anyone in college?” I don’t know why I do this to myself. Maybe I’m a masochist. I mean, I know the answer—it’s fucking college. Everyone fucks like rabbits. She looks up at me and freezes.

Shit. How many guys? Anger is already bubbling up inside me at the thought of anyone else with her that way.

I expect her to deflect or maybe laugh it off, but she doesn’t.

“I’ve only kissed one guy before. That’s it. Nothing more,” she admits softly.

My glass freezes halfway to my lips. I stare at her, trying to process what she just said. The confession knocks the wind out of me.

Only one guy? One kiss?

“You’re kidding,” I mutter, half-disbelieving. Involuntarily, my anger turns into lust. Need—a craving. The way I feel about her feels like molten lava.

She shakes her head, her cheeks flushing. “I guess I’m not really… the type of girl guys look at.”

My stomach twists at her words. Is that what she thinks? That she’s not worth looking at? My gaze sweeps over her again, taking in every curve, every inch of her that I’d never been able to stop staring at. She has no idea. She has no idea how stunning she is. How distracted she made most of our teammates at practice. Rowan kept asking them what the hell was wrong with them, but it seemed like only I knew the answer. Seemed like only I noticed the way they stole glances her way, resulting in them missing their cues, slipping, and failing to meet the puck on time.

She’s a damn siren.

I set my glass down, leaning closer, my eyes locked onto hers. “That’s the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

“What?” Her eyes widen in disbelief.

“You have no idea, do you?” I smirk, but it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. My hand reaches up to brush a strand of auburn hair away from her freckled face.

She sucks in a breath. The tension thickens, wrapping around us like a noose. She shifts in her seat, clearly flustered, but she doesn’t pull away.

“Damien…” she breathes, her voice shaky, unsure.

I watch her for a long moment, my own pulse hammering in my chest, my self-control hanging by a thread. But I’ve pushed hard enough for tonight. One step at a time, though my entire being begs me to sprint instead.

I pull back just a little, sensing her disappointment. No, I don’t think I’m done playing just yet.

“Give me a shot,” I say softly, nodding toward the tray on the table. She hesitates, then reaches for one of the shots, handing it to me. I shake my head, and she furrows her brows. “I said, give me a shot, Avery.” God, it feels good to say her name.

She studies me for a moment before her eyes widen with realization, making the corners of my mouth lift up.

What are you going to do now, baby?

She looks down at the shot and then up, straight at my mouth. I nod in confirmation, parting my lips. Let’s see how far my little liar will go.