I don’t know why I’m angry, but I am. I’m halfway through the thick crop of trees when I hear it. A howl, so deep and pained that I stop dead in my tracks. I spin around, but I’m lost in the night, and there’s no light, not even from the party I just left behind.
I turn back to the way I was heading and start running. I don’t know what’s out there, but I don’t feel like being prey tonight. My lungs ache. My legs burn. And my chest is tight with my erratic heartbeat slamming against my ribs by the time I reach the lake. From here, I can see the silver bed of water, and I move forward, finding a pathway around the water, and to the other side. I’m guessing that’s how Creed found us when we had our night run.
Once I reach the other side, I run once more. My feet have a mind of their own, and I trust my instinct. It doesn’t take me long to see the mansion before me.
In the darkness, there’s a foreboding sense of awareness that takes hold of me. But I ignore it and head inside. Thankfully, I’m able to get to my bedroom before I hear the front door open, and Damien’s voice bounces off the walls.
“Nesrin fucking Ellington!” I ignore him, locking myself inside.
I’m not sure what mood he’ll be in when he comes through there, but I don’t want to see him. I head into the bathroom and turn on the shower, before stripping off my clothes.
Sweat drips from me. My gaze finds my reflection in the mirror, and I take in my bright rosy cheeks and my plump lips that are still shimmery from the kiss.
Shaking my head, I step under the spray and stand there for a moment, trying to clear my mind of the image of Damien and another girl doing things that I want him to do with me. But no matter how much I try to ignore it, to not feel jealousy raging through me, I can’t.
Picking up my razor, I stare, for a long while, at the silver blades. I have to decide if it’s worth it. Is it? I nod. Unclipping the blades, I take one in hand and lean against the cold tiles. Under the spray, I slide down until my ass hits the ground. I spread my legs, taking in the scars that are already there.
With a deep breath, I slip the blade across my skin, watching in awe at the crimson trickling from the cut. Biting pain shoots through me. My lungs finally feel as if they’re working as they pull in enough air to offer serenity. And my mind is cleared of the memory that has been haunting me since I first saw Damien Thorne.
I don’t want to admit his words hurt. But I’m here because this is how I deal with the emotional war that’s raging inside me. Even though I know it’s not only about him, my cuts run deeper than I’ve ever admitted. And I just don’t know how to find relief anyway else.
As much as I don’t want to admit it, I’m still a little girl who wants her mother to be proud of her. It only hurts for a second, before I need one more just to clear the tension in my muscles. The water steals my evidence, and it rushes down the drain, along with my guilty tears.
I drop my head back against the wall, and I close my eyes. Those blue eyes haunt me. They remind me of what I can never have. The moment he has to admit his feelings to the world, he’ll realize I’m too young, and he’s my stepbrother.
Suddenly, the door bursts open, breaking on the hinges, and Damien stands there, looking like he’d just fought through an army to get to me. My heart surges, coming to life and thudding wildly against my chest. The lump in my throat thickens when his gaze lands on the blade in my hand, and more guilt washes over me.
He doesn’t wait. He races toward me, where I’m drenched. With one shove, he pushes the glass door so hard, I’m surprised it didn’t shatter. But that’s just Damien, a controlled storm.
When he enters a room, people fall at his feet simply because he graced them with his presence. And I am the one who keeps fighting the need to be one of those admirers.
He glowers, the rage that’s simmering through him right now is reaching boiling point as he looks at me. The blue igniting to the true shade of an open flame. They say that pure hydrocarbons burn with a blue flame, and that’s what his eyes look like right now, searing me.
“Get out of the shower.” His words are stern, filled with frustration. Slowly, I push up, still holding onto the small, silver blade. “Get. Out. Of. The. Shower.” The hint of barely restrained rage drips from every word. When I step out onto the rug, Damien rushes forward and wraps me in a fluffy towel. I expect him to shout at me. To curse and scream, but all he does is lean in, so his mouth is at my ear. “Get on the bed and wait for me,” he orders, in a gruff voice that I’ve come to recognize as Damien not needing me to argue.