Riding The Flames

05 | Brother's Girl

five • brother's girl

Damien

My little brother is a walking monstrosity. The piece of shit has a hard time understanding the rules of the Tracks. He is the one who goes announcing the area as the Den when it isn't a Den at all.

These are our tracks and girls like the one he brought aren't allowed in here for very well-identified reasons.

Don't get me wrong—I'm a feminist all the way. I respect my stepmom and her loudmouthed friends, I have fairly decent relations with my sister, and I would prefer my woman to be the kind who doesn't tolerate even my bullshit. I have never been in a relationship that had my girl crawling to me not because she didn't want to.

Scratch that. I have never been in a relationship at all.

No chick has ever caught my eye that way.

But she does.

The girl standing beside my brother is fucking gorgeous. Slender figure, heart-shaped face, curves that make me want to lick my tongue over them, sinfully sexy legs. She is wearing a tight black top, blue jeans, and an orange scarf around her neck which makes me imagine what it would be like to wrap my hand around that scarf to pull her closer, to find out what she smells like.

"Come here, babe," I call her as I drop my cigarette on the ground, dousing it out with my boot.

The chick stands there, not moving as she looks at me with her big, green eyes. She looks too innocent to belong with us.

What the hell was Dax thinking bringing her here?

Dax swings his arm around her neck, dragging her with him towards me. The chick seems infuriated with him but Dax doesn't get the signal. When they stop in front of me, I glare at my brother.

"Remember the last time you brought a chick here?" I remind him, raising a brow at the moron.

He shrugs, letting go of his new conquest, and picks up my half-drunk beer bottle from the ground. He lifts it to his lips, swallowing huge gulps. The chick shivers at the sight of him drinking, probably regretting her decision to follow him out here. It's not like I have to worry about her being with Dax. It's her, Dax, and the gang that's a bad combination.

"It's not my fault that you can't keep it in your pants," Dax grumbles, his voice sounding sloppy.

There is no use talking to him. If he had sense, he wouldn't have made the same mistake again.

I turn to the chick and she flinches. Her eyes flicker to the right side of my face and for a second, I see the hesitation in her eyes; the same hesitation my stepmom has when she looks at me. My scar probably makes her feel disgusted with me already. Girls hate that side of my face. Little do they know that the scar is one of my trophies.

"Babe...did you come here on your own or did he force you?"

The chick blinks her eyes at me as if she fails to understand why I am indulging in a conversation with her. She stares at me for a while, half seconds turning to full seconds, and then, she turns to my brother, pretending that she didn't hear me.

"Dax, I want to go home."

Did she just ignore me?

Fucking...

"Babe." I grab for her wrist and her eyes widen when I pull her to me, forcing her to face me properly. Her hand is warmer than mine, soft enough to urge me to explore it. "Talk to me when I speak to you. Never. Ignore. Me. Understood?"