He's trapped me in his sights.
Waiting to consume me.
He wants to awaken the darkness inside me.
Possess it and own me.
Damon West is bad news.
He might appear charming on the outside.
But that's only a mask he wears to hide the true predator inside...
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The game only ends when the king falls.
And I'm falling.
Losing control.
Losing her.
"Fuck!" I roar. "Fuck."
My ears are ringing, and the ground feels like it's spinning beneath my feet.
"Fuck," I yell again.
Everyone at this fucking party is staring at me, scared of the havoc that is pouring out of every pore. I should calm down. I should take control, but I can't.
Everything is so far out of my control that I want to scream. Fucking roar into the night sky.
"You," I call as I stride back over to the asshole that had his hands and lips all over what's mine. I need an outlet for this rage. His friends are pulling him up off the floor. The look of pure terror that crosses his face is fucking beautiful. He should feel scared. When I'm done with him, he won't be recognizable.
I go to swing another punch at him when a strong grip wraps around my arm.
Ace.
"Man, come on. You need to pull yourself together," Ace says. "We can fix this; let's go back inside."
I don't think I can fix anything; he didn't see the look on her face.
"Fuck," I shout for the hundredth time as I shake Ace's grip off me.
Something inside me is dying, blackening.
With one last look at the asshole who should be dead, I turn and head inside. Ace is on my heels, telling everyone to quit staring and get back to partying.
If I can't take my rage out on that asshole, I know exactly who I should aim it at next. With long strides, I head to the den and slam the door open.
Storm sits in the armchair, nursing a bourbon in his hand.
"You fucking piece of shit," I roar, pulling him up by his shirt. I throw a punch square across his jaw, knocking him back down onto the seat.
"What the fuck is your problem?" he slurs, spitting blood onto the floor.
"You are," I growl.
"Stop," Ace yells as I go to punch Storm again. "He didn't know she was listening, man. None of us did."
"I need to see her," I grunt out. I go to storm off when Ace puts a hand on my shoulder.
"She needs to calm down, man, and so do you."
He's probably right, but it doesn't stop the overwhelming feeling of going to her.
Fuck, what the hell is happening to me? Never in my life have I been so attached to a girl. She is not just any girl; she's my girl.
Mine.
"I'm sorry," Storm slurs.
The asshole showed up here drunk. He's never fucking drunk. Everything about him has been off lately.
"It's a little bit late for that," I deadpan.
"Come on, Damon, let it go; it's fucking Storm," Ace says. "Just have a drink and calm the hell down."
I don't want to drink. I want to go to Jessica, but Ace is right. If I go now, I'll end up making things worse. Ace hands me a bourbon he's poured and tells me to sit down.
Leaning back on the sofa, I let the gravity of the situation sink in. I've fucked things up all for a stupid bet that I had no intention of losing. I wanted her from the moment I saw her. I didn't know she would be so far under my skin that it would hurt.
I might have sacrificed the queen, but that move caused me to lose the game.
Fuck.
I couldn't stay away.
I tried, but the more alcohol I consumed, the more the need to see her coursed through my veins.
I have to see her. Be near her. Touch her.
To find a fucking way to make her forgive me, and she will forgive me because I'll have it no other way.
Jessica is mine.
She's mine even when she hates me.
That brings me here. I'm sitting across the road with a bottle of bourbon in my hands. It's not even the expensive stuff. It's a bottle of Jack Daniel's that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
Maybe the bitter taste is from my heart that seems to be tearing. Maybe it's from the tar that's blackening my lungs. Maybe it's the feeling of losing the only thing I want.
Her.
I would call myself a coward for not breaking the door down and demanding to see her. But something is stopping me. Does she want to see me? Probably not, but I'm here anyway.
I'm a fucking asshole; maybe I'm more like my father than I want to admit.
The lights are on in the front of the small rundown house. The house to the left is the one Jessica grew up in. The outside is painted a soft blue, and there is a small garden of flowers out front. It doesn't look like it belongs on this street; something about it makes it seem more like a home.
I can't imagine growing up like this. I've had whatever I've wanted my whole life. A life full of expensive things and luxuries most people don't get. A life that now seems fucking shallow.
I don't drink to get drunk, but the spinning and throbbing in my head is telling me I'm wasted. I should have come here sober, but I needed something to take off the edge.
The edge I'm about to fall off.
The edge that only shows a rocky bottom.
I stumble to my feet and cross the road. Beat-up old vehicles are parked next to the curb. I walk up the stone path and climb the few steps onto the creaky front porch.
Before I can knock, the door flies open, and Ezra stands in the doorway with a murderous expression on his face.
"What the fuck are you doing here? Leave before I break your nose."
"Let me see Jessica."
"No."
That one word has me feeling rage.
"Let me fucking see her," I spit.
"She doesn't want to see you, so get the fuck off my property."
"I'm not going to say it again."
Before my intoxicated brain has a chance to catch up, Ezra throws his fist into my face, splitting my lip. I stumble back, nearly falling over from the impact.
"I told you to get the fuck off my property," he growls. "If you know what's good for you, you'll leave Jess alone."
My hand reaches up to wipe the blood away, and I give him a look that would kill if it had the power. I'm too drunk to get into a fight with this bastard.
A small voice comes from behind him. A voice that plays in my dreams like the sweetest melody.
