Valor

Chapter 18

*starting to pick up da heat...

There is a distinct warmth against my back as my eyelids flutter open to the soft glow of the sun seeping in through the curtained window. The warmth melts from its origin on my back and continued along my ribs and over my chest.

When I look down, I find a large tattooed arm tucked tightly against my body, holding me close. I recognize the tattoos right away as Dame's–the greek letters along his wrists a dead giveaway. I squirm a little, trying to get out of hsi grasp, but all Dame does is tighten his hold and murmur some unidentifiable words into my hair.

I can fear his warm breath against my neck and his warm skin rubbing against a spot on my lower back where my t shirt must have ridden up.

I take note of the fact that I am in a large man's t shirt and panties which is definitly not black silk dress I was wearing the last time I was awake.

It irks me a little, but that emotion is quickly squashed as the memories of that night come flooding into my mind.

Cortova. The knife. Blood.

I slowly start to become aware of the fact that I must be in the Valor house, and they bust have brought me here after Maverick found me.

I don't know whether to be angry at them for not leaving me alone, or thankful that they helped me. It's an odd mix of emotions, but thankfully I'm not dead, although I do want to know what happened after I passed out.

I squirm again in bed, trying to turn around so I can face Dame. Of course he doesn't make any attempt to help or even allow me, to which I let out a mix between a whine and a grunt.

"Dame."

Me saying his name snaps him out of the last remnants of sleep, as he unlinks his arm from my waist and allows me to turn on my back to look at him.

Dame is the one brother I see myself in. He's nothing like the other broody bastards; he's not afriad to smile and show how much he cares.

I guess Kai shows me how much he cares, but never in a normal way. Dame shows me in a normal way; he makes me feel normal.

It's not something I am used to, but it is something that calls to me. I know I am far from normal, and my past has shaped me into so many things. Some would call me a monster, but I don't see an ounce of pity or judgement in Dame's eyes.

Somehow I see my own reflection.

Dame's blue eyes sparkle as he grins down at me, cataloging every inch of my face. He looks a lot less mature first thing in the morning. His short locks of blonde hair point in all different directions, and he still has the imprint of the sheets on his cheek. He looks so carefree in this moment, and if I didn't know any better I would say we almost look domestic.

Then I let my eyes travel downward and realize his entire muscular tattooed body is on display. There are various designs of wings and chains cascading over his arms and pecks as I trace my eyes from his sternum, down the ridges of his abs, until they stop at the waistband of his boxers.

When I bring my eyes back up to look into his, there is a shade of mischief around them.

"You done oggling me Trouble?" He says as he wiggles his eyebrows earning a big grin from me.

"You are basically naked in bed with me what did you expect me to do? Not look at the goods?" I say, my voice filled with laughter.

Dame brings out a side of me I didn't know could exist with people involved in this life. He's a puppy at heart, and it makes me want to spend every waking minute with him–that's what makes him dangerous. No matter how loud my mind is screaming at me to get up and put some space between us, I still don't listen. I fact, I think I sink further into the mattress, the mere presence of Dame soothing some ache inside of me.