“I’m not sure what game you’re playing here,” Layla says, “but she’s been through enough.” She bites her lip as if she wants to say more. I wish she would spill whatever the fuck she’s hiding, but I know she won’t betray Briella’s trust.
“Ain’t planning on adding to that hurt, Layla.” And that’s the god’s honest truth. I’m not, but without knowing what pain she’s got in her past, it’s going to be tricky to navigate.
The sound of the bedroom door opening draws my attention. I glance at Layla.
“Ain’t protecting her by keeping her secrets.”
Layla opens her mouth to reply, but shuts it as Briella steps into the room. She looks fucking beautiful. Her dark hair is rumpled from sleep, and my eyes gravitate to the tiny sleep shorts and camisole she’s wearing. Fuck me, did she sleep next to me all night looking like that?
She stops as she clocks eyes with me, hers flaring.
“You’re still here,” she says and my lips lift at the corners.
“Don’t sound too thrilled by the fact.”
Her cheeks stain a pretty pink that makes my dick twitch and my balls feel heavy.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I didn’t think you’d stay.”
The vulnerability in her words gores me. She’s never had anyone to rely on, apart from her brother. Did she really think I’d leave her after last night?
“Get dressed. I’m taking you for breakfast.”
She doesn’t move, shifting on her feet instead. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
I don’t. Staying over, breakfast… it’s a prelude to something more, something neither of us is ready for, but I’m not leaving until I make sure she’s good. More than that, I don’t want to leave. I’m not ready to take a step back yet. My need to be with her is a persistent itch I can’t ignore. My eyes shift to her pouty mouth and itch with the need to take it. To claim it and make her mine.
Fuck… that thought scares the shit out of me. I shouldn’t be thinking anything like that.
“Get dressed,” I repeat, ignoring the slight stumble in my words. I’m unsettled. She unsettles me.
That thought dissipates as her eyes roll. “Bossy.”
I can’t help but grin. I am a demanding arsehole, but part of me doesn’t care. She needs to open up to someone who can make this shit right. Layla can’t do that, but I sure as fuck can, and I will.
Briella moves back towards the bedroom and I watch her go before I feel the weight of Layla’s gaze on me. I turn to her.
“What?” I demand, unable to keep the irritation out of my voice.
“Just remember what I said.”
“Ain’t going to force her to tell me shit. She wants to tell me, I’ll listen. She doesn’t, I won’t push it, but she needs to work through whatever the hell is going on, and she needs to know she’s got people here who want to help her with that. Club’ll fight for her. She’s one of ours, but we can only fight if we know what demons we’re facing.”
Layla scoffs at my words. “Yeah, ‘cause that worked out so well last time,” she sneers under her breath as she glares at me.
Her words are like a bucket of water over my head.
What the fuck happened?
10
Briella
Breakfast with Daimon isn’t a good idea. Logically, I know this, but my heart doesn’t give a crap about logic. The thought of spending more time with him makes me feel a little giddy. I don’t know why but he makes all the chaos in my life fade to background noise when I’m with him. I no longer feel unclean, but whole and worthy, but he also scares me. He’s a dangerous man, and he could hurt me if he chose to. His strength could overpower me easily. I know because it has happened before. I put my trust in the wrong person and paid the price for it.
Daimon is different from him, though. He calms my inner demons, settles them long enough that I can take an unhindered breath. It’s as if he scares them down into submission, his strength surrounding me like a forcefield. For the first time in a long time, I slept last night. His scent, all raw and male, warmed me like a blanket. He was my own personal dreamcatcher. I didn’t have any more nightmares. That hasn’t happened for so long, I forgot what it’s like not to wake with gritty eyes and a headache.
Sleeping wrapped in Daimon brought a calm I didn’t know I was missing. I felt safe. I don’t want to lose that, but I know he’ll leave after we’ve eaten and that honestly scares the shit out of me. I’ve always found it hard to be around the Sons, seeing his face whenever I am or just seeing him. It’s created a rift between me and Levi. I stopped going to the clubhouse as much, I stopped going to the monthly club cookouts. Levi sees it as a slight against what he considers our family. I see it as the only way I can survive. There are times I can’t avoid being there, but I do my best to stay away. The one thing I can’t avoid is the old ladies. They won’t let me push them away, though I’ve tried.
But things feel… different… with Daimon. It’s not fear or dirty I feel in his presence, but something else.
Whole.
I try not to dwell on my thoughts as I step out into the living room. I don’t want to go there today, or any other day in fact. Thinking of the past shreds what little sanity I have left. I hate that he still has that hold on me, as if he never let me escape.
My thoughts scatter as I feel Daimon’s eyes on me, heated and heavy. I didn’t want to make it look like I tried too hard, but I’m dressed in my best skinny jeans with a vest top beneath my leather jacket. I rimmed my eyes in dark eyeliner in the hope it would detract from the bags under them, but also because I know I look good with dark eyes.
His gaze travels up my body, and I want to squirm under his scrutiny. He said we were family, but there’s nothing familial in how he’s looking at me right now. He’s staring at me like I’m a feast he wants to devour. I hold still, letting him have his fill. Heat pools in my belly and my mouth dries out at the way he’s looking at me. My breath catches as my heart beats furiously against my ribs, as if trying to escape. That look, it’s addictive, like a shot of booze straight to my veins. I can feel Layla’s disapproving stare, but not even she can detract from the butterflies flapping against my belly.
Finally, Daimon rubs his thumb over his bottom lip and meets my eyes. I don’t know if he realises how sexy that movement is, nor if he realises the look he’s giving me is so molten it makes his eyes darken, like deep pools of desire.
“Perfection,” he mutters under his breath, and my good mood evaporates. I’m far from perfection. If he knew the truth he wouldn’t be looking at me like this.
I dip my head, no longer able to meet his gaze as shame washes over my skin, leaving filthy stickiness behind. He crosses the space between us and lifts my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his. I see the confusion and a hint of anger in his eyes, but when he speaks his voice is soft.
“Hey, where’d you go then?”
“Nowhere.”
“Looked like somewhere to me,” he says quietly.
I force a smile. I feel like I’m under a microscope. I feel like this man can pull all my secrets, all my thoughts out of my head and that terrifies me. No one can ever know what that bastard did to me. I won’t be a victim. I won’t let him win.