Page 31 of Damon

Trying not to race up and down the aisles, I gathered some bandages, wound glue, and disinfectant. Might as well grab some painkillers too. When I reached the checkout, I also put two bottles of water on the counter. I’d have preferred a stiff drink instead.

Back in the car Damon instructed me to park down a nearby alley. To avoid getting blood in the car, we got out and sat on the hood while I cleaned his wound.

“This is bad, Damon.” I shook my head, disgusted by the size of the gash in his forearm. “This needs stitches. I don’t think the glue will be enough to hold it.”

“Too bad. No hospital. Just do your best and bandage it up.” He swigged from the bottle of water, chugging half of it in one go.

As I worked, my hands began to steady. Damon sat patiently while I carefully glued the wound closed before wrapping it in gauze and bandages. This was definitely not how I’d pictured my night.

I stuffed the bloody gauze I’d used to clean his cut back into the bag from the store. The adrenaline pounding through me had finally begun to subside. Until I turned back to Damon and he kissed me.

A kiss that quickly turned into a ravenous makeout session. Both of us trying to devour the other. Our tongues clashing together. The occasional nibble and bite.

The sound of sirens jerked us apart. There were any number of reasons for sirens any time of day or night. Still, it sent a fresh wave of adrenaline pounding through my veins.

“Make sure you have everything,” Damon said, pulling away. “We’ll leave the car here.”

He leaned into the car long enough to grab the gun, doing a quick sweep to make sure neither of us left anything else behind. Within minutes, we were several blocks away.

Damon used a burner phone to order us a ride. By the time we arrived back at my apartment, I’d started to feel like the entire night had been a surreal dream. A fabrication of my imagination. The bandage around Damon’s arm proved that it had all been very real.

“You’re coming up?” I asked when he followed me to the front door of the building.

“Looks like it.” He motioned for me to unlock the door.

I stood there frozen with my key in my hand. Allowing him inside probably wasn’t a good idea. The expression he wore told me that there was no room for argument. He wasn’t going anywhere.

When it came to Damon Price, I was fighting a losing battle, and I knew it. Still high on the rush of the evening, I opened the door and brought him up to my suite. I had no idea what was about to happen. That didn’t stop me from finding out.

“Do you want a drink or something?” I felt awkward having him in my space. Especially after making it clear at the barbecue that I wanted him to stay away from me. I should still feel that way. I wanted to, but something had changed.

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.” Damon followed me into the kitchen, taking a seat at the small round table against the wall.

I felt his watchful gaze upon me as I moved around the kitchen. Taking two glasses from the cupboard, I poured some vodka into each. Trying not to let on how awkward I felt under the weight of his gaze, I stared into the fridge for several long moments.

“I don’t really have much to mix this with. I haven’t been to the store for groceries recently. There’s orange juice.” I pulled out the juice container and turned around to find him staring so intently at me I was almost afraid.

“Straight is fine.” A wild heat burned in his eyes. One that made it undeniably clear this man had no intention of letting me go anytime soon, if ever.

I poured some orange juice into my own glass, leaving his without. Then I joined him at the table, sitting on the opposite side.

“Look, Damon, I get that you think I owe you so you’re using me as your partner in crime, but I have a life to think about. A future. I’m going to have a normal career. A normal life. You can’t keep doing this to me.”

Having said what I needed to say while I still had the chance, I took a sip of my drink. The vodka burned a path down my throat before settling in my stomach. I’d purposely mixed it strong, knowing that I would need it.

Damon seemed to consider what I’d said, nodding thoughtfully. He ran his finger around the rim of his glass before taking a long drink. Leaning forward, he propped his bandaged arm on the table.

“I know that’s what you think you need to believe,” he began. “Get a real job. Live a basic life, just like everyone else. But you’re not that kind of girl, Athena, and you know it.”

His words hit hard, sinking in deep. Not knowing what to say, I chugged back more of my drink. Damon had a way of being so sure of himself. Like nothing ever rattled him.

I couldn’t sit there in silence, so I finally asked, “And what kind of girl am I then, Damon? You seem to know.”

“You’re the kind of girl that needs some excitement in her life. A man that keeps you on your toes while testing your limits. You don’t really want to sit behind a desk every day. Doing the same shit all the time. A routine that never changes. You need more than that to thrive. Tell me I’m wrong.”

He was wrong. He had to be. I wanted nothing more than to tell him that he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do that.

I sat there tightly, clutching my glass while his words replayed in my head. For a guy that didn’t know me all that well he’d really nailed that one on the head. He gave voice to the doubts that had been plaguing me. Making it impossible to deny anymore.