CHAPTER 3
"While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door"―Edgar Allen Poe, The Raven Damian stiffened as he walked inside the mansion, soaked from head to toe. His nostrils flared as a scent so powerful nearly knocked him off his feet. The smell clawing at him was unreal. It was like sweet lavender mixed with a touch of vanilla. Holy hell, he could drown in that scent. Fucking bathe in it. He needed to find where it was coming from—had to. Wanted to bury his nose in it and just . . . breathe. He shook the sudden goose bumps off as he stepped forward, his combat boots leaving mud-prints along the marble floor. His gaze swept over the stairs, flashed from the barroom to the foyer and landed at the end of the hall where the dining room and kitchen sat empty. “There a problem?” Aidyn asked, as he stepped beside him with a black duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He shot a look at his brother. Aidyn raised a brow. “What?” Damian scowled. “You can’t smell that?” “I farted before we came inside.” “Not that, you idiot. The lavender, you can’t smell the lavender?” Damian sniffed the air again. Man, it was all over the place, down each corridor, in every room. His brother dropped his bag to the floor. "Mm, no. All I can smell is my fart. I feel like it followed me in.” Damian ignored him, rubbing his bottom lip as he walked down the hall real slow and hesitant, afraid he’d pass by whatever was emanating that scent, and his brother followed him. He knew that fragrance; smelled it before . . . he just couldn’t remember where. "Sir, would you like me to get your bags?" Frances asked, stopping Damian in his tracks. The pale butler stood in the doorway of the barroom with a puzzled look on his face. Something else was underlined in his eyes, a distinct speck of fear hiding in their blue depths. Damian’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Do we have a problem, Francis?” The shadow demon paled and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “We have guests, sir.” And apparently they weren’t the usual type. “What do you mean 'guests'?” The shadow demon twiddled his thumbs together as he stared at the floor. “Humans, sir. They’re in the lounge . . . Jason brought them.” Damian’s blood ran cold. Humans in his home? Bile rose in his throat as his eyes ran full black, the whites of them disappearing. Aidyn patted his back. “Calm down, Dom. Jason probably has a good reason for bringing ‘em here.” His brother looked to Francis. “They women?” “Yes, sir.” Aidyn turned to Damian with a smile. “This could be good for us.” Damian shrugged off his brother’s hand as he headed for the lounge doors. “They’d better be tall, tanned, and blonde.” Gripping the handles of the double doors, he pushed them open and his eyes scouted the room, first noticing the two women standing by the pool table. They weren’t blonde—in fact, they weren’t tall either. And only one of them was anywhere close to tan. The red head was ghost white, almost blinding in her paleness. His eyes settled on the back of Jason’s head, and in his mind, he was bashing that head against a brick wall. Repeatedly. There'd better be a good damn explanation as to why there were humans in his house, because somebody was about to get seriously fucked up. His brother whistled, catching their attentions. Jason spun around, stumbling over his own feet as his pool stick slipped out his hand and landed on the floor with a loud “clack”. "I thought you guys weren't going to be coming back here 'til next year?" Dom watched as Jason finally let his breath out, leaned his pool stick against the table, and then placed his hands on his hips. "Change of plans," Aidyn replied in a monotone. Damian's black eyes locked onto Jason's. “Did you have Kara cut Dom’s car cables?” Aidyn asked, his eyes straying to the women before sliding back to Jason who paled. Aidyn chuckled, walking to the bar. “My brother’s ready to kill you. First, you bring humans in his home. ” He looked to the women and winked. “Not that I mind at all.” And then he refocused his stare on Jason. “And not to mention, his poor car’s sitting out there in the rain, not wanting to start. We had to push that bitch all the way up the driveway. You do know how long that driveway is, don’t you?” Jason wiped the sweat from his brow. “Three miles . . .” “Yeah, Jason, three miles. We pushed it three miles up hill in the damn rain with Zeke’s fatass asleep in the backseat.” Aidyn cocked his head to the side. “So I can assure you Dom’s not in a good mood. And you know he doesn’t do anger very well.” Damian’s nails dug into his palm as the beast beneath his skin begged to get his paws on the fae. He glared and slid his gaze across the women once more, getting a good look at them. His eyes connected with the brunette trying to blend in with the wall. Suddenly he paled as his blood ran cold and dread bunched beneath his skin as his eyes narrowed. Her. He realized right then why that smell was so familiar. He couldn’t forget her face or the scar running along her throat in a million years. Gritting his teeth, he took a step forward, all of his dread quickly replaced with rage. With his constant lack of sleep, he could strangle her for damning him to torment night after night. He had enough hate for her to last a lifetime. The almond eyes that haunted him glanced over and took him in. He held his breath, waiting for some kind of reaction, for her to speak and shame him by letting Jason and Aidyn know how he’d saved the very breed he hated. Yet all he got was a lick of the lips and a hot stare. She didn’t recognize him at all. And though he should’ve felt the least bit relieved about that, he grew angrier instead. He should have expected it; another human who showed a lack of appreciation. He gritted his teeth so hard he heard them grind. He should’ve left her ass beneath that freezing water, helpless and drowning in that cold ice of the current. As soon as the doors to lounge had burst open, rattling the walls of the room, Jade and her sister backed up to the wall, hoping to go unnoticed by the two men who stood menacingly in the doorway. For a moment, she wondered if they were part of Marsey’s pack and the hair on her neck rose. There was no way she’d be able to get away from these men. They were built, especially the tall one who stood like he owned the place. She was a step up and his height still towered above hers. His massive body filled the archway, and she wasn’t sure if the dark aura around him made him that more domineering as he crossed his huge, tattooed arms over his chest. If these were Marsey’s men, she couldn’t say she’d have a problem going with them. She was starting to think that maybe she was attracted to evil, or—oh God. Marsey must have put a spell on her, because she was finding the main man too damn fine for his own good. Olive skin . . . She loved olive skin. The way it glowed in the light—hot damn, it gave off that beautiful shimmer as water cascaded from his shoulders. Never did she have the urge to lick someone until then. And that strange urge was strong, prompting her to take a step forward like a dazed cat, as if she were compelled to go straight up to the stranger and literally lick the rain drops off his chiseled chest. And then maybe she’d dive downward and skim her teeth across those prominent hip bones that dipped beneath the fabric of his dark jeans. Her mouth drooled as she took another step closer, but as her eyes trailed up to his face, she froze in place, stopping herself from jerking back at the anger that was present there. The man had the blackest eyes she'd ever seen. Solid black like an onyx stone. Cold and empty. That full bottom lip twitched, and his top lip pulled into an evil snarl. He was staring right at her, pinning her with those soulless eyes. The scar running over his left eye made him that more sinister-looking. The etched line began just above his eyebrow and ran down his cheekbone. The sweet heat stirring in her gut burned out as something inside of her shriveled in fear. “Now, Dom, I know you’re mad, but don’t take your anger out on the girls.” His eyes flashed to Jason for a fraction of a second before sliding back to her. For the first time in her life, she wanted to curl up in a corner and hide. Marsey had never even made her feel like that. She felt the need to run, because her heart pounded as if she were being chased, and she wasn’t sure if that was because it was filled with a mass of adrenaline that needed to be released, or if his intimidating manner was working on her. It was probably both. “They just need to stay here for a while, just until we can find another place.” Jade’s throat went dry at Jason’s pleading. The man named Dom didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. He stood, shaking with fists clenching and looking ready to draw blood as his jaw twitched with irritation. Jason stepped down off the stage and walked toward him with caution. “Look, Dom, I am beyond sorry for bringing them here without asking you. I just—” He was cut short as the man’s hand gripped him by the throat and lifted him off the floor. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Come on, Dom,” the smaller man with turquoise eyes said, placing his hand on the bigger man’s bicep. “Put him down before you bash his face in. I don’t feel like cleaning blood off the floor again.” The man named Dom threw the other guy a frustrated look, his expression a warning, daring Turquoise to test him again. With a twist of his foot, the man hurled Jason through the two open oak doors and headed for him, his gait the equivalent of a tigers as the muscles in his broad shoulders flexed. Jason crashed into the staircase, sending the wall of the stairs into a fierce shake. Damian wasn’t playing around. He knew what Jason wanted—the same thing that everyone else came knocking on his door for: protection, whether it was for their selves or someone else. Damian grabbed him by the throat and held him up at eye level. “I let you stay in my home, and this is how you repay me? By moving humans in while I’m gone?” “I know, I know, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to do. You know I wouldn’t have brought them here unless it was my last option. And believe me, I’m out of options.” Damian watched the faerie’s gaze fidget. “You didn’t bring ‘em here because it was your last option. You brought ‘em here hoping I’d protect them.” Jason wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Is that why you got Kara to fuck with my car?” “I had to. You don’t understand—” Not wanting to hear his excuse, Damian drew back his fist and swung, packing a heavy blow that landed somewhere near the faerie’s left eye. He didn’t care where it landed as long as pain was involved. Punch after punch, he mastered all his rage into his fists, paying the sorry SOB back for his car more than anything. He slung the faerie into the hall wall, his head bouncing off the wood. “You’re paying for my goddamn car.” Damian slammed a boot into his ribs as Jason slumped to the floor in a heap. “And you’re packing your shit and taking these humans with you.” A sob wracked Jason’s body, and he curled into a ball and snuggled into the molding of the wall. “Damn, Dom. What the hell’d you do to him?” Aidyn stepped out of the lounge with a box of crackers in hand. Damian’s brow knotted as he stared down at the faerie. It wasn’t like this was the first time Jason had gotten the shit knocked out of him. Hell, this wasn’t even Damian’s worst beat down. “He break your nose again, Jason?” “No.” He sat up, his face bloody and swollen. “I’m supposed to protect her and I can’t, okay?” Jason wiped the snot and blood off his nose with a palm. “I’ve failed as a man.” “I’d say so,” Damian muttered. Aidyn’s eyes looked to him for an answer. “Don’t look at me. I don’t know what he’s talkin’ about.” His brother kneeled beside the battered fae. “What's this all about?” Instead of speaking directly to his brother, Jason locked eyes with Dom. “The brunette in there was born with her heart on the right side of her chest.” Damian didn’t need to ask who was chasing her. He knew witches spent their three-hundred year lifespan searching for girls with a right sided heart. To gain eternal youth, witches had two choices: they could either eat the girl’s heart like a sirloin steak or they could steal her body by evicting the soul. “Dom, if you make us leave, she’ll die.” The fae swallowed hard and shook his head. “You’re strong—you can take on anybody. I’m not . . . I can’t protect her like you can.” “No,” Damian turned away from the fae. “Pack your shit and get out.” Cousin or not, the fae could drown in failure for all he cared. He wasn’t letting humans stay in his home under any condition. He wasn’t a babysitter and he wasn’t a guardian. If Jason wanted that kind of protection, he’d have a better chance praying in a church. Damian jogged the stairs and rounded the corner of the third floor, slamming his fist into the wall and rattling the row of lamps down the corridor. Sliding his tongue over his teeth, he slowed down as he neared his bedroom. That mouthwatering devil of a fragrance had found its way back to his nose, overwhelming him as he came to a halt at his door. He arched a brow at the door across from his. Was she staying in that room? He checked over his shoulder to make sure no one was coming, and then twisted the doorknob. The sweetness hit him like a brick wall as it flooded the corridor. He kicked the door shut as he peered around. The old version of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre played on the screen, flashing scenes of Leather-face waving a chainsaw. He skimmed his fingertips along the edge of the bed, the smooth silk brushing against his skin. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath and savoring the freshening aroma that filled the room. Lavender surrounded him. Blended in with the air so naturally. He didn’t remember her smell being so heavy and intoxicating, so deathly addicting and overwhelming that he swayed with lightheadedness. He steadied himself with a hand to the bedpost. His eyes shot open as he shook off the feeling and blinked. Damn, the hell was that? A deep breath fell from his lungs but the fuzziness didn’t go away. It lingered over his head like a cloud of fog. When he was sure he wouldn't fall over, he moved toward the wooden dresser, noticing the leather notebook that sat upon it. He opened it, peeling back the black binding. The first few pages were filled with pictures. He flipped further, passing one after the other before stumbling upon a middle page overflowing with a bunch of sketches. As he picked them up, his ears perked at the sound of footsteps approaching the room. He shoved the papers back in, shut the book and took it with him as he hid behind the bathroom door. She walked in with Jason trailing her. “Pack your stuff. Make sure you got everything.” Jason bowed his head as he leaned against the fireplace. She grabbed a tall pile of clothes off her bed and stacked them on her dresser. “I take it they aren’t happy we’re here?” “No, but who’s ever happy when we show up?” “Don’t you ever get sick of this?” “Get sick of what?” She leaned against her bedpost. “The running.” “I do.” Jason sighed, running a hand through his hair. “She’s only got a year left. After that, all of this ends. We can go back to our lives.” As Jason neared the door, the girl asked, “So who are the men?” “Distant cousins of mine.” Jason gave a small smile. “Dinner’s gonna be ready in an hour. We’ll leave in the morning.” Damian studied the human from behind the door, becoming aware of how curvy she was. Thick hips, round ass, sweet thighs he could grip. She was kind of pudgy in the tummy area, but he liked that. Made her soft-looking. He rolled his bottom lip into his mouth. As the fae left, the woman went over to her dresser and paused. She noticed her book was gone. He knew she did, because in an instant she was searching frantically, moving objects out of the way, looking under the desk, standing on her tippy toes and peeking behind the dresser. He glanced down at the book in his grip. What was in there that was so damn important? A map to Never Land? “No, no, no,” she said as she moved to her bed and sifted through all the clothes. “House must have some serious ghost issues.” Suddenly she stepped back and waved. “Hi, yes, ghosts, I know I put my book right there on that dresser. Give it back and I’ll give you a nice show in the bathtub.” Damian’s gaze darkened, and he contemplated putting the book back on the dresser. And as if someone else was reading his mind, he felt a tug on the book. An invisible tug. As he looked down, the tug became more forceful, feeling as if there were more than one hand pulling at the book. He frowned as he jerked it back and tucked it under his arm. She combed her fingers through her dark tresses and headed for her bathroom. “I’m going insane.” He leaned back against the glass wall, the blanket of darkness enveloping him. She was completely oblivious to him standing there, eyeing her as she passed. The blissful smell of her swallowed him whole, rising his hunger out of its den. But it wasn’t food he was hungry for. No, he was hungry for something else. There had to be something wrong with her; humans didn't smell that good. Damn woman needed to get out of his home, because her pheromones were screwed up, therefore screwing him up. He heard the bathroom door click shut and decided it was his chance to slide out. I need a drink. Lighting a cigarette, he started for the door. He looked down at his right hand and realized he still had the book. Shaking his head, he put it back on the dresser as he walked by. Only one night, that was all and then she’d be gone. Then he’d never have to deal with her again . . . except when he slept. He reached the door and hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at the hardcover bound in black leather. He wondered if she wrote about the accident, wondered what she remembered from it. She had to remember him; she had looked right up at him and—he shook his head. She’d already thought the book was missing. Keeping it for the night wouldn’t hurt. "Fuck," Damian muttered, stalking back to the dresser and snatching the book off of it. Just curious, that's all, he told himself as he walked out the door and closed it behind him. Jade eyed the man sitting beside her. The long haired drunk laid his bare feet on the table and picked his teeth with a toothpick. She slid her gaze to the end of the table where the turquoise-eyed male lay passed out in his bowl of mashed potatoes. Really? This was the safe home he’d brought her to? She’d be safer in a cardboard box in an alleyway. Jason nudged him. “Aidyn. Aidyn, wake up.” “Hmm?” “Wake up, man. You’re gonna drown in your food.” Aidyn sat up, wiping clumps of potato off his face. “How long was I out?” “A few minutes at least.” Aidyn nodded, pulling a baggy out his pocket. He dumped the white contents of it into a pile on the table and took a razorblade to it, forming the substance into a thin, straight line. She gawked at him as he dipped his head and snorted it off the surface. She raised her brows. When he straightened, his turquoise eyes were alert, alive, and dilated. He looked around the table, blinking before looking down to his plate. “Where’d my mash potatoes go?” “You should probably check your hair.” Jade clued him in. Her sister leaned over to him. “Here, let me get it out for you.” Jade snorted as her sister batted her honey brown eyes at him, all the while dusting food off his hair. She couldn’t decide what was more hilarious: the fact that Aidyn still had potatoes in his hair, or the fact that her sister was flirting with a coke addict who had potatoes in his hair. Within a day, the woman would be proclaiming her love for the man. Jade could already see it. “It’s amazing women still come onto you,” the long-haired man beside her said, his emerald eyes darting back and forth between her sister and Aidyn. He ran a hand over his weeks’ worth of beard growth, and she noticed his strong, square jaw. It was different than his brothers; their jawlines weren’t as wide. These were the worst kind of men—the sexy kind. The French-door in the kitchen slammed, and the tall man with hellish attributes walked into the dining hall, water dripping down his face. Droplets raced from his shoulders to the curve of his hip bones. She swallowed hard, her mouth watering as her eyes devoured. Her sister wouldn’t be getting him. No, she had already mentally called dibs on him. That ass was hers. Active imaginations didn’t compare to the reality of who he was. Not in the slightest. He emulated everything that a man was supposed to be: Big. Strong. The warrior type. “Finally decided to join us, huh, Dom?” Aidyn asked. The man halted in the archway. His black stare roamed the table, pausing on her. She noticed his lip curl when her stare hovered for too long on his scar. It was a deep and jagged line that ran over his eye and down his cheek. Averting her eyes, she tried to keep her gaze from drifting downward again, afraid she’d actually jump up from the table and dry hump his leg. His thick body was wrapped in ropes of muscle, biceps sculpted, thighs crafted, abdomen defined like no other. This man was built to fight, just like he was built to fuck and feed. He walked around the table and snatched up the filled plate that set across from her, but not before looking at her as if she were the dirt beneath his feet. She cast her eyes downward as he stalked out the room. “Don’t mind him,” Aidyn said, cutting his steak with his knife. “He’s not a people person.” Jason cleared his throat. “You mind talking to him for me? Maybe persuade him to let us stay?” The man sitting next to Jade snorted. “Good luck with that.” “He probably won’t change his mind but,” Aidyn shrugged, lifting his wine glass to his lips, “I’ll try. So do we get an introduction, Jason? Or do we have to guess each other’s names?” “Mm, sorry.” Jason pointed to Erica with his fork. “Erica, meet Aidyn.” Then he pointed to her. “And over there is Jade. Jade, meet Aidyn and Zeke.” He did a quick round. He was becoming slack with introductions. “I think that’s the quickest introduction I’ve ever had,” Zeke said with a grin. Damian leaned against the stone railing of the balcony, the two gargoyles guarding his sides. Light rain droplets fell from the misty clouds above, tapping the top of his head and shoulders with the cold stray runaways. The bitter chill of August raised the hair on his arm. Another sign that autumn lingered right around the corner. He heard his bedroom door open and click shut. He didn't have to glance back to know who it was. “You got it too damn empty in here. It doesn’t even feel like a room.” Aidyn’s footsteps carried forward. “What do you want?” Lightning streaked across the sky, striking somewhere behind the hills. “You really gonna throw Jason and those girls out?” Damian threw him a look. “I mean, I just think we could . . . have use for them—if you know what I mean.” Aidyn quirked his brows. “Could definitely get your mind off that dream you’ve been having.” Shaking his head, Damian’s grip tightened on the banister. “No.” “Come on, just think about it.” “I said no,” the last word ended in a growl. His brother gave a defeated sigh. “Fine, I’ll have them out in the morning.” Damian pivoted, drowning in frustration as he pushed past Aidyn. The depressing gray walls around him reminded him of his old prison cell. Cold and dark just like it. The room was nearly barren, with a wooden table in the corner, two stands at his bedside, a dresser with a few clothes, and a bed dressed in ashen sheets that he rarely slept in. "What's this?" his brother asked. Damian turned to see Aidyn pointing to the black book that sat on his bureau in the corner. Aw, shit. He needed to learn to put things up before people decided to barge into his room. "None of your damn business." "Okay, okay, calm down. No reason to get snippy with me." Aidyn held his hands up as if he were surrendering. After shoving his brother out of his room, Damian grabbed the human’s book off the table and paced in front of his bed as he flipped through its pages. He turned another page and five folded pieces of sketch paper floated to the floor. He saved the sixth one from falling and unraveled it. The crease between his brows pinched together as he squinted at the pair of eyes sketched on the vanilla paper. The cobalt blue orbs stared back at him, familiar, forgotten, lost all the same. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he slung the book at the wall, the pages and pictures raining across the floor.
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