Chapter 12 The Sacred Mantra
THE SACRED MANTRA
EMERY
Sitting by the fireplace, my arms crossed tightly over my chest, I watch the front door.
Damon paces behind the armchair. Fists clenched.
Jaw tense. Posture stiff. Agitated. On edge.
Is this Murphy's Law in effect? First my parents, and now this?
The last thing I expected was a phone call from Agent Ube, informing me that Quin attempted to confront Toni on his own and got tasered.
Tasered! What an idiot. I knew he was lying about what he was doing, but this? This was completely reckless.
My head snaps up as the lock clicks open. Quin comes strutting through the threshold. He looks so…nonchalant. As if he didn’t just do something incredibly careless. My blood boils. Really? Is he seriously going to pretend nothing happened?
Before I have a chance to begin my lecture, Damon storms toward Quin.
"What in the fuck were you thinking?! You went after Toni? By yourself?" Damon's voice booms, his large frame rattling as he glares at a stunned Quin. "I should punch you in the face right now for acting so stupid!"
Quin sighs, his gaze shifting sheepishly over Damon's shoulder toward me. "I'd prefer it if you didn't. I'm still rather sore."
"Yeah?" I bristle, sneering at him. "Sore from what, Quin?"
Quin closes his eyes, shoulders sagging. "I apologize, okay? I know... I know it was foolish to go see her by myself and—"
I hop up from the armchair, stalking toward him, my tone low and dangerous. "Foolish? Foolish?! Foolish doesn't even come close. She could've killed you, Quin. She could've—"
Quin grabs me by the shoulders, stabilizing me, grounding me. His gaze connects with mine as he speaks, his voice earnest. "I should have told you, I know, but," he swallows, "I didn't want to worry you."
I scoff, pushing myself out of his embrace.
"Worry me?" I glance at Damon, who remains stoic, his anger but a second away from exploding.
"He didn't want to worry me?" I whip my head back at Quin and smack him on the chest. "You.
" Another smack. "Are." Smack. "An." Smack.
"Idiot!" I release a loud groan, running my hands through my hair.
"This week... I can't. First, my parents with their impending visit and now this?
!" I glare at Quin. "You're aware I have a heart problem, aren't you?
Are you trying to kill me, Quinton? Are you? !"
Damon narrows his eyes, ignoring my dramatics. "Your parents are coming to visit?"
My face pales, and I close my eyes, willing the headache away. "Yes," I sigh. "They're planning to stay here this weekend and..." My wincing gaze flicks between Quin and Damon. "And meet my boyfriend."
Damon's jaw ticks. "Boyfriend."
Quin swallows, his expression empathetic. "They're coming here?"
I flap my arms in frustration. "Yes, since I haven’t gone and seen my parents for a while, my mother assumed I’m in a relationship and that’s what’s keeping me so busy, and now..." I place a palm over my forehead. "Now I have a headache."
“When are they coming?” Damon asks through his teeth.
I swallow, and Damon’s face falls as I say, “Friday evening. They’re wanting to spend the night…here.”
“I see,” Damon respond, tone frighteningly calm. “I guess I’ll make myself scarce.” He glances at Quin. “Have fun meeting her parents.”
Fuck. This is awful. He looks so hurt. I don’t want to be the reason he’s in pain, whether momentarily or long-term.
“I want you to be there,” I say quietly. “At dinner.”
Damon lifts a brow. “You want me…at dinner?”
A small hopeful smile plays on Quin’s lips. “Are you going to tell them?”
“No,” I whisper, my apologetic gaze floating to Damon. “I’m not but…”
Damon’s expression flattens once again. God, it nearly kills me. “Then I don’t see the point. I wouldn’t want to intrude on a family dinner.”
I sigh, guilt settling in the pit of my stomach.
“I want them to meet you. I do, Damon. But I…” I rub my hands together, my body visibly shrinking under his gaze.
“I can’t tell them about us. About the three of us.
I…” My gaze flits between Quin and Damon.
“My parents… They won’t understand. They’re conservative and old and—”
“It’s fine,” Damon snaps, turning on his heel and storming away.
I glance at Quin, and he gives me a nod as he silently encourages me to follow Damon upstairs. I chase after him, calling out to him, but he doesn’t stop. I pick up my pace.
“Damon! Please, come on!”
Damon marches into the bedroom, raking both hands through his hair, and then he spins around. “What?”
“I’m sorry, Damon, I am. I wish it wasn’t like this. I—”
“But it is, isn’t it?” Damon shakes his head. “It’s how it’s always going to be, right?” He perches on the edge of the bed and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not angry with you, Emery. I’m not. It’s just…”
I sit down beside him, placing my hand on his lap. “It’s not fair.”
He glances briefly at me. “Life isn’t fair. You’re the one who taught me that, remember?”
I swallow. It’s not fair, but it’s the reality we’re faced with. I wish things could be different, that we could be open about our relationship without fear of judgment or rejection. But that’s not our reality, and I don't know if it ever will be.
“I know,” I say softly, my heart heavy with the knowledge that I’m causing him pain. “I just wish...” My voice trails off as I struggle to find the right words to express the turmoil churning inside me.
To be in love is a wonderful thing. It’s pure and whole and full of bliss.
And to be in love with two souls? Two distinct forces of nature, one that lights fire to my soul, one that calms the flames, well, that’s simply earth-shattering.
And that’s the problem. Our love transcends earthly knowledge and beliefs.
What we have is something ethereal. Out of this world.
Our love belongs on a different plane, a different universe, and how I wish we could escape to a land that was just our own.
No cameras. No prying eyes. No nosy ears. Just us. Until the end of time.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I look into his broken gaze. “I’m sorry, Damon. I’m…” My voice cracks. “I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to make it so that—”
“Just love me,” Damon whispers hoarsely, unable to look at me. “I-I’m used to being loved in the dark.”
I take a moment to gather my thoughts, my heart pounding in my chest as I search for the right words to convey the depth of my feelings for him. He needs to know just how much he means to me, how his existence has irrevocably changed my life.
"Damon," I whisper, my voice trembling. "I do love you. You're not just a part of me. You're…you’re woven into the very fabric of my being."
Damon swallows. “I am?”
“Yes.”
They both are.
Tentatively, I shift my weight, straddling Damon's lap as I lean down to place soft kisses along his jawline.
My lips brush against the shell of his ear as I whisper words of affirmation, repeating "I love you" like a sacred mantra.
His breath hitches in his throat, a low groan escaping his lips as I nibble at his neck.
“Emery,” he rasps, raking his fingers through my hair as he tugs on my roots.
Our eyes meet for only a second, the thick fog in the room lifting, making way for lava and heat as his lips crash against mine, urgent and raw and beautifully sinful.
I gasp into his lungs, my own drained of air as I push him down.
He slithers backward on the bed, the sheets crunching beneath our wild and frantic breaths.
Our tongues clash and battle for sweet victory as our hands, our clumsy fucking hands, fight against fabric and clasps and zippers until there’s nothing but flesh between us.
With a primal growl, Damon flips us over, pinning me beneath him as he claims my lips, and tastes every inch of my skin, my breasts, my stiff, needy nipples. Our bodies grind together in a fevered frenzy. But I need more. I want more. More friction. More pressure. More of him. More of me.
Damon's cock presses against my sex, sending bursts of electricity through my veins. I gasp at the sensation, my nails digging into his back as I arch against him, desperate for more. Always more.
"This pussy is mine," Damon growls, his voice rough with desire as he thrusts into me. His tongue laves against my neck. “This.” His pace quickens, my core hot and clenching. “Pussy.” His cock is unyielding, nearly destructive as he pounds into me, no restraint, no control, just pure primal instinct. “Is.” He’s so deep.
So fucking deep I could cry. Or scream. Or both. “Mine.”
I moan his name, my body pulsing with pleasure as he hammers the last nail in my coffin. As the waves of pleasure wash over us, Damon collapses onto me, our bodies entwined in a tangled mess of limbs and sweat. We cling to each other, breathless and sated.
For a few precious minutes, we remain in each other's arms, comfortable and safe.
“I need some water.”
I reluctantly detangle myself from Damon's embrace. Slipping out of bed, I reach for a silk robe, draping it over my naked body as I make my way to the kitchen.
As I enter the room, I find Quin leaning against the island, a mischievous smirk clipping his lip.
"I assume he's forgiven you?" Quin quips, amused.
I grin. "I don't know about forgiveness, but I don't think he's angry right now."
Quin tilts his head, his gaze trailing over my disheveled appearance. I feel a blush bloom on my cheeks. It’s strange. I shouldn't feel this way around Quin, not after everything we've been through together. But I still feel giddy whenever he looks at me like that.
"Let me taste you, darling," Quin rasps, his fingers caressing my face as he leans in to brush his lips against mine. His tongue teases the seam of my lips before retreating. "Mmm..." He pulls back, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "You taste like the ocean."
A shiver runs down my spine, and I feel hot. Flushed. Wanting. His eyes, so blue and mesmerizing, hold me captive. And I let him. This is one cage I don’t mind being trapped inside. My chest rises and falls with anticipation as I untie my robe, letting it fall to the floor.
"Do you want to go for swim, Doctor?"
Quin's features darkens as he notices a trail of white cum dripping down my inner thigh.
"Messy, messy girl," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.
My gaze flicks down to the bulge in Quin's pants, a wicked smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
"You love messy," I whisper.
"That I do…" Quin growls under his breath as he hoists me onto the kitchen counter. His gaze flicks across my flustered face as he nestles between my legs. “Will this earn me your forgiveness, darling? I’m—”
I place my index finger across his lips. “Shh… Not now. I can be mad at you after.”
“Are you scheduling an argument?” He grins, running his hand along my dampened thighs.
“Yes.”
Because there’s such a thin line between fucking and fighting.