Chapter 4
DAMON
I lean my head back against the wall behind me and close my eyes as I’m hit with a wave of exhaustion that’s so strong I can almost feel the last of my energy draining out of me like water spilling out of a toppled glass.
“I feel weird,” I mumble as my entire body grows heavy and my thoughts slow down.
“Yeah, same.” He blows out a long breath.
“I don’t want to fall asleep.”
“Me either, but it’s probably the only way we’ll get whatever they drugged us with out of our systems.”
I don’t tell him that the reason I’m scared to go to sleep is that I’m terrified I’ll wake up alone and realize all of this was just some sort of drug-induced hallucination.
I wasn’t being hyperbolic when I told him what happened when I woke up before him and thought I was alone in here. I really did all those things, and I was on the verge of a full breakdown when I heard him stirring.
I also don’t tell him that my stupid imagination thought he was some sort of monster when he started groaning. Even when I realized he was a person, the only reason I didn’t freak the fuck out was because of how calm he stayed, and how quickly he was able to piece together what happened to us.
I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that I was abducted at all, but what’s really bending my noodle is that Xave is here with me. It’s wild enough we were at the same rave, but what are the odds of us being drugged and abducted together?
I bite back a snort-laugh. The odds of that are probably about the same as they are for us hooking up at the rave, especially since Xave still has no idea who I am.
Little flashes of what I think are memories flicker through my mind. A big, solid body. Strong hands and warm skin. The taste of salt and musk on my tongue, and quiet encouragement in the form of a low, rumbling voice.
I don’t remember much of what went down in the smash room, or how we ended up there in the first place, but I’m almost positive I was the instigator.
Guilt and unease twist in my gut. Hooking up anonymously isn’t the problem. Xave went into that room not knowing who I am, but hiding the truth now that we’re trapped together feels wrong.
And if we ever get out of here, or even if someone comes in and turns on the lights, he’s going to see me.
We might not be friends or even casual acquaintances, but we’ve been in each other’s orbits for long enough that he’ll recognize me on sight.
Especially since I have a pretty unique look compared to most of the student body at Silvercrest.
More guilt churns in my gut and mixes with the exhaustion still hanging over me from whatever the fuck they drugged us with.
The longer I keep the truth hidden, the harder and more awkward it’ll be when I do tell him who I am.
And considering he’s the only reason I’m not clawing at the walls amid a full mental breakdown, waiting until he potentially sees me instead of telling him before that happens feels wrong.
“So, I have a confession to make,” I say, my words coming out stilted.
Is he going to be pissed? Xave has a reputation around school for being volatile and unhinged, the same as his cousins. Is he so chill right now because he thinks I’m a stranger he’ll never see again? Is he going to freak out that he let me suck his dick once he knows I’m me?
“What is it?” he asks, his voice heavy with the same fatigue that’s slowly overtaking me.
“You never told me your name.”
There’s an agonizingly long pause as my words hang in the air between us.
“I’m not following.” He doesn’t sound mad, just confused and a bit wary.
Hopefully he keeps that energy when he hears the rest of my confession. “You never told me your name,” I repeat. “But I know your name.”
“How?”
“We go to school together.”
He makes a surprised sound that’s almost a cross between a gasp and a grunt. “We do?” he asks before I can muster the courage to tell him my name.
“Yeah.” I swallow hard. “I’m Damon Cosgrove. Helix is my stage name.”
There’s another long pause, and I brace for him to start yelling or maybe deck me.
“Like the same guy who’s a founding member of the Keepers?” His neutral tone is reassuring but also terrifying.
“Yeah,” I scrape out.
“That’s…”
“Are you pissed?” I ask before I can stop myself.
I hate how small my voice is, how weak and pathetic I sound.
“No,” he says distractedly.
I resist the urge to ask him if he’s sure. “Are you going to hit me?”
“Why would I hit you?” He sounds genuinely surprised by my question.
“Because you didn’t know it was me when we went into the smash room, but I knew it was you.”
“Pretty sure one of the reasons I went in there is because I didn’t know who Helix is,” he says, and I can practically hear his smirk.
“But now that you do?”
“I mean, I didn’t have hooking up with a rival frat member at an exclusive rave on my list of things that would happen when I went there, but whatever.
It’s not the craziest thing I’ve done, and it’s not like us knowing each other really changes anything.
” He pauses for a beat. “Does anyone else know about your secret identity?”
“No.”
“Huh,” he says, his tone thoughtful.
“Are you straight?” I ask, my words coming out in a rush.
“Yeah. But like I said, hooking up with a famous DJ who just happens to be a dude isn’t the craziest thing I’ve done.” He pauses for a few beats. “Are you straight?”
I let out a laugh as relief courses through me. He really isn’t pissed about what happened. “No. Never done anything about it before we…but I’ve known I’m into guys for years.”
“Does anyone else know?”
“No.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” he promises. “Not about what happened, or about your alter ego.”
I breathe out a heavy sigh as the last of my fear seeps out of me. “Thanks. And I won’t tell anyone about what happened either.”
Silence falls over us, and it’s getting harder to keep my eyes open with each passing second.
“I don’t think I can stay awake,” I tell him groggily.
“Yeah, same.” He sounds as exhausted as I feel.
He shifts away from me, and the loss of his body heat and presence sends a wave of icy dread and fear through me.
“I need to lie down,” he says before I can lose my shit. “I’m about to pass out.”
The rustle of his clothes on the floor and the soft huffs of our breaths are the only sounds in the room, and more of that cold fear seeps into me as the overwhelming fatigue surrounding me like a haze makes it hard to think straight.
“Lie down with me,” he says sleepily. “Back to back.”
It takes a second to fully register what he said, and I find myself scooting away from the wall before I’ve even made the decision to move.
It takes a lot of feeling around, but I manage to lie beside him and settle so our backs are pressed together.
The solid warmth of him instantly soothes my nerves, and I let out a contented sigh as more of that unnatural exhaustion wraps around me.
Xave’s answering sigh makes me smile, and I don’t fight the fatigue that takes over as I drift off to sleep.
Slam.
I jerk awake at the crash of wood hitting something hard, the loud noise yanking me out of sleep with all the gentleness of an anvil to the face. Bright light fills the room, and I blink against the sudden assault as I try to open my eyes so I can see what the hell is going on.
“What the fuck?” I mumble, my voice thick and hoarse as I try to shake off the disorientation from being jarred out of sleep like that.
Xave is already sitting up when loud footsteps ring out, and my chest squeezes with terror when three masked men wearing all black spill into the room.
Xave shifts so he’s in front of me as I struggle to sit up, my mind reeling as I try to process what the hell is going on.
“How the fuck did you get free?” one of the masked men asks in a growly voice that doesn’t sound natural.
“Don’t even think about moving,” another of the men says, raising a sleek, black handgun and pointing it right at Xave.
“Hands up,” another one says. It’s hard to tell who’s talking with their masks on, but they’re all using that same growly tone, like they’re trying to hide their real voices.
“Do you want us to put our hands up, or not move?” Xave asks, his voice light and conversational.
I flick my gaze to his back. How the hell does he sound normal right now?
“Hands up,” one of them repeats.
Xave slowly lifts his hands. I do the same, only instead of moving slow and casual like him, mine go up like someone zapped me with electricity and activated my “arms up” switch.
“On your knees.”
We shift so we’re kneeling.
“Hands on your heads.”
We both obey.
The two men without guns advance on us, and it takes everything in my power to not recoil from them or shriek in terror.
One man grabs Xave by the arms, and the other grabs me. His grip is tight and rough as he yanks me to my feet and wrenches my arms behind my back.
I cry out in pain as my left shoulder is stretched beyond its natural range of motion, and my mind is blank with terror as the men march us out of what I can now see is a cellar.
My feet don’t seem to be under my command as I stumble along, and the only thing keeping me from toppling over is the grip my captor has on me.
The air is cool and damp as we emerge from the cellar of what looks like a log cabin, and I blink against the brightness from the sun as the men drag us away from the building and into a small area with a firepit about a dozen feet from the cabin.
They jerk us to a stop when Xave and I are beside each other with a few feet of space between us.
The man holding my arms kicks the back of my knee hard enough that my leg gives out, and I fall to the ground with a surprised cry.
The guy who has Xave does the same to him, but unlike me, Xave is silent as he falls to the ground almost gracefully and lands on his knees with a hollow thud.
“Don’t fucking move,” the guy with the gun growls as he stands in front of us, pointing the gun at Xave, then at me. “How did you get free?” he demands, training the gun on Xave.