9. Damian
CHAPTER 9
DAMIAN
“It’s early.” I explain knowing she’s used to this getting to work before the sun comes up. “Kelly is sorted. Now lay back down.”
She studies me, hesitating before she finally comes back to bed. I toss the phone I got from Riot to my nightstand. She tries the same thing from last night, rolling to her side, her back to me. And like before, I roll into her scooping her against me and rolling us both, me to my back and her draped over me. This time, I run my hand softly against the back of her neck until she settles and falls back into a slumber.
The first thing I hear when I wake up is the soft sound of her breathing.
The second thing?
The low growl of her stomach.
A slow smirk tugs at my lips. Guess she’s human after all.
I shift, sliding my arm from beneath her, careful not to startle her too much—though I know she’s going to be rattled when she realizes where she is again. That’s what happens when reality hits. The fear creeps back in.
I sit up, rubbing the back of my neck before swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. I don’t bother looking at her yet—I can feel her staring.
She’s tense. Waiting. Watching.
Anticipating
Let her.
I push up from the bed and make my way to the dresser tucked against the far wall. I don’t miss the way her breath catches when I pull open the top drawer and grab a pair of gray sweatpants. Yeah. She wasn’t expecting that. Jeans are good for riding, not for lounging around the house.
I slide them on, taking my time, letting the silence stretch.
She probably assumed I didn’t have anything here, that I just crashed in jeans and a leather cut like some savage if I’m not at home. But she is wrong in so many ways. I feel her eyes on me, tracing the tattoos stretching across my back, over my ribs, down my arms.
Let her look.
When I turn toward the small kitchen area, I finally glance at her. She’s still curled in bed, watching me cautiously, her body tense like she’s expecting me to do something— what , exactly, I don’t know.
I arch a brow as I open one of the cabinets, pulling out a pan. "Did you snoop?"
She shakes her head quickly. “Kinda too busy panicking.”
I smirk. "Good girl."
“What are you doing?” She inquires.
I smile, “making breakfast.”
There is a pause, “I’m not hungry.” The words come out barely above a whisper.
Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look away. I grab some eggs, bacon, and bread, setting them on the counter before moving to light the burner. The smell of gas ignites for a second before the low blue flame flickers to life. Her stomach growls again, louder this time.
I chuckle, cracking an egg into the pan. "Starving yourself ain’t gonna help, sweetheart."
She stays silent, her expression unreadable as she watches me cook. She doesn’t trust me. That’s smart. But trust doesn’t matter in this moment. What is important, sorting the threat, eliminating it, and showing her this is where she belongs.
Because right now? She’s mine to keep. I just need her to get on board with this realization.
The smell of bacon and eggs fills the small space, the sizzle of the pan the only sound between us. She’s still watching me, still unsure if she should move, if she should trust the food I’m making.
I don’t rush her.
She’ll eat when she’s ready.
Once the food is plated, I grab a fork, move to the small table, and drop into the chair. I glance at her, arching a brow as I motion to the second plate I set down across from me.
"Come eat, sweetheart," I say, voice easy, like we’re just two people having a casual breakfast together.
Her eyes narrow, suspicion rolling off her in waves, but her stomach betrays her again with another low growl. She huffs, pushing herself up slowly, still hesitant. Alert and still watching me. She moves toward the table, her steps careful, like she’s walking into a trap.
Smart girl.
She lowers herself into the chair across from me, picking up her fork but not touching the food yet. I don’t say anything, just start eating, waiting for her to give in.
It doesn’t take long.
She hesitates, then takes a small bite of eggs, testing them. When she realizes I haven’t drugged her or done anything sinister, she eats a little more, slowly. I smirk, resting my forearms on the table as I twirl the fork between my fingers.
"Let’s get to know each other, sweetheart."
Her brows lift, surprise flickering across her face. "Excuse me?" she says, like she misheard me.
I chuckle, leaning back in my chair, watching her closely. "You heard me," I say. "Since you’re gonna be sticking around for a while, might as well have a little chat."
She stiffens, her grip on her fork tightening. She’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. “What’s a little while?” She inquires.
I can see the way her mind is racing, trying to figure out what game I’m playing.
But this isn’t a game.
This is me keeping her right where I want her.
“Until the threat is eliminated.” I take another bite.
She blinks as if in disbelief. “Can you tell me what the threat is?”
I lean back in the chair, legs splayed wide. “No.”
She drops her fork. “Seriously! This is ridiculous. You say I’m stuck here, you won’t tell me why. You say let’s chat. We are chatting. You don’t want to answer my questions. Therefore tell me, sir, what do you want to chat about since you hold all the cards anyway.”
I smile. I can’t help it she brings out this softer side to me. “Well, Alaina, the bakery is in honor of your grandmother. You were close, is my understanding. You wanted to share this part of her with everyone.”
Her eyes widen in shock. “How about we talk about you? Or this place. I don’t know where I am. I’ve never been somewhere without a single picture on the way or a shelf. There is nothing personal here. It’s like a short term rental or something. Except it magically had pants for you.”
I lift my hands up behind my head, lacing my fingers together, my abs flexing drawing her attention to my body. Yeah, keep admiring. This shit lasts too long, I’m going to be sure to show her just how much my body can work.
“Whatever you want to know, sweetheart. I’m an open book.”
She lets out a haughty laugh. “You’re anything but an open book, Chux.”
“I’ll start with this is my home. I usually stay at the clubhouse because it’s easier. But when I need to decompress, I come here. Only a few people even know where it is. For you, this is the safest place to be. Riot, he is my actual brother, knew it would make it easier for any of us to keep you protected being here.”
“Not exactly the house I expected for someone who goes by a name about shoes, Chux.”
Her saying my road name is cute, but I want my name on her lips before I’m balls deep in her body. “My name is Damian Joseph Masters.”
“Then why does your vest say Chux?”
It’s my turn to laugh. “I was prospecting and got in an accident. I was wearing an old school pair of Converse Chuck Taylor shoes. Classic red. Fuckin’ thrown from my bike, it was a total loss. My shoes came off. When I got up off the damn ground, I had a broken collar bone, but walked around yelling for my Chucks. They were ripped on the side of the right shoe. I still put them on, then promptly fell right back down until the ambulance came. Mellow thought that shit was funny as fuck. He sponsored me and when I patched in, Chux became my road name.”
“Mellow?” She questions. “Why can’t you just go by Damian and Mellow use his name because I’m assuming Mellow is not the name his mother gave him?”
I shrug. “Road names mean more than the name we’re born with. In the Kings that name is earned, sweetheart. Chux is who I am before I’m Damian. Mellow, it’s his story to tell. Each brother breathes to be a King and whatever name it comes with.”
“Okay Chux,” she begins and I sit up in the chair leaning towards her.
“No. With you, here, I’m Damian. You got a lot on you, Alaina. Told you I’m an open book. You’re in my home. Here I’m Damian. With you, I’m Damian. When I have to be Chux, I am. When I’m with my club, I’m Chux. With you, right now, you get Damian.”
She raises an eyebrow not understanding.
“Ain’t gonna lie to you, sweetheart. I’m not a good man. Things I do in the name of family make normal men cry. Chux puts brothers above all others. I always will. But when someone matters to me they get every side of me, Damian and Chux.”
“Chux scares me,” she tells me honestly with her eyes firmly locked to mine.
I reach out and cup her chin. “I should scare you.” I lean back in the chair and let her take that in.
“Why do you do this? Pull me in, let me think maybe there is someone good under the leather and then rip it away the moment I relax.”
I pause wanting to be deliberate with my words. “You need not be afraid of me at any point in time, Alaina. I’ll never hurt you and I’ll never let anyone harm you.”
“Why? You don’t know me.”
“Fuckin’ see something I want, I take it. I don’t hold back, I don’t care what anyone thinks, I go in full throttle.”
“I’m not a possession.”
“No, sweetheart, you’re the total package.”