Chapter 20 Damon
DAMON
The sensation of being watched settles over me as I walk down the dark path, but there’s something about it that’s different.
I can’t quite explain it, but it feels wrong. It’s not the familiar presence I’ve gotten used to. It’s colder, almost sinister, and a shiver of real unease ripples through me.
Quickening my steps, I glance around. A couple of the lights over the path I’m on have burned out, so it’s even darker than it usually is, and more of that unease fills me as I shove my hands in my jacket pockets and pick up the pace.
This part of campus tends to be quiet since it’s not near any of the dorms and is mostly just open space with a few administrative buildings dotting the area.
It’s also right at the edge of campus, and for the first time in weeks, knowing that the woods are only a few hundred feet away is making me nervous.
Another prickle of unease moves through me, and I look around again. There’s no sign of anyone, but I can’t shake the feeling that there’s someone out there.
And that someone isn’t Xave.
I’ve never asked him, and he’s never come out and told me, but I know the presence I’ve felt these past weeks is him. I have no clue why he started this, or why he’s still doing it, but I’m not mad about any of it.
And that has nothing to do with the fact that he’s been fucking my brains out for almost as long as he’s been watching me.
Knowing he’s out there makes me feel safe, and more than that, it makes me feel seen.
I might be a solitary person, and I like being alone, but there’s a huge difference between being alone by choice and being lonely. With West always busy, it feels like I’m always alone, and that’s starting to get to me.
I still talk to Eden on the regular, but we don’t meet up or hang out. I would if she wanted to, but I get why it’s better if we keep our friendship on the DL.
I don’t care what people think of me, and I’m so used to being gossiped about that there’s really nothing anyone can say that will hurt me or even bother me that much. But that’s me.
Eden is different. She pretends that the looks and gossip don’t matter to her, but deep down, she cares about what people think of her.
And it hurts that everyone is so willing to shun her because she’s different and has an overbearing stepbrother, but they also watch her every move and gossip about her like she’s some sort of reality star who's always embroiled in one scandal after another.
So between her not being able to openly hang out with me and West choosing not to, I’ve spent most of my time alone lately.
The only times I don’t feel so alone or like I could disappear and no one would notice are when I’m with Xave and when I can feel him watching me.
I know it’s fucked up, but Xave watching me from the shadows, even if it’s for nefarious reasons, is the only time I truly feel like someone gives a shit about me. He’d notice if I went missing or if something happened to me, and most days it feels like he’s the only one who would.
And the times we spend together in the woods, or behind buildings, or on access roads, or wherever else we find ourselves, are some of the only times I feel truly alive. The sex is incredible, and the stalking/fear routine that comes before the sex makes every moment that much better and hotter.
But the parts of our encounters that mean the most to me are what happens after the orgasms. When Xave holds me for a few minutes while I come down from the high of my release and always asks if I’m okay and if he hurt me before we part ways.
He’s never hurt me, not for real, at least, and it means a lot that he cares enough to ask.
It makes me feel like he’s not just using me. That I’m more than just a willing ass for him to stick his dick in. I have no idea what he really thinks or what I am to him, but those gentler moments make me feel a little less alone.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I instinctively look around, my eyes sweeping the dark, as more of that unease settles over me and the sensation of being watched gets stronger.
A tickle of fear cuts through my unease, and it’s not the excited kind of fear I get when I know Xave is out there watching, or when he’s stalking me.
This is genuine fear, cold and terrifying, and my entire body goes on edge as the light above me suddenly goes out.
Lifting my gaze to the dark lamp, I pull in a shaky breath and resist the urge to sprint down the path and run back toward the main part of campus like a lunatic.
Lights burn out all the time, and it’s not like this is the first time one of the overhead lamps has gone out when I’ve been near it.
And the odds that there’s someone other than Xave out there watching me from the shadows are just as absurd as thinking the light going out is anything other than bad timing and an old lightbulb at the end of its lifespan.
I’m not that interesting or important, and I really need to get over this main character syndrome before I convince myself that there’s some big conspiracy going on around me.
But even telling myself all that isn’t enough to settle the knot of fear in my stomach, so instead of sprinting away, I quicken my steps until I’m half speed walking, half jogging down the path.
I’m just about to turn down an intersecting path that will bring me back to the main part of campus when someone steps out from behind a large tree that’s about ten feet in front of me and stands in the middle of the path.
I nearly trip as I come to a stop, my heart pounding as I take in the figure.
Whoever they are, they’re dressed all in black, and not only do they have a hood pulled up over their head, but it also looks like they’re wearing a black ball cap, the brim casting even more shadows over their face and making it impossible to see any of their features.
More of that cold fear curls in my chest, and an overwhelming sense of dread falls over me as they raise their hand.
My eyes lock on the sleek black gun they’re pointing at me, and my brain sort of glitches out for a few seconds as I try to process what the fuck is happening.
Is that the same guy who attacked me behind the building all those weeks ago? I thought it was just a prank gone wrong or a case of mistaken identity, especially since nothing has happened since that night.
But a prank or a case of mistaken identity doesn’t explain why a guy is pointing a gun at me right now.
Crack.
The sound of a gunshot is like a thunderclap in the still night, and I jump a mile, my entire body glitching out as a cry falls from my lips.
The figure lets out an even louder cry as he stumbles back, the gun falling to his side as he clutches his shoulder with his free hand.
Loud footsteps break through my stupor, and I whirl around, the scream on my lips dying when I see Xave, the twins, and Killian jogging toward us.
“Xave?” I mutter dumbly, my eyes falling to the silver gun in his hand as he hurries over to me.
“You okay?” He grabs one of my shoulders and holds it tight as he looks me up and down. “Are you hit? Did he hurt you?”
“No. I’m fine,” I say automatically.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a dark voice says. “Not unless you want to learn how long you can stay awake and breathing after being flayed alive.”
“It’s anywhere from a few hours to a few days, just in case you get any bright ideas,” another voice says, their tone light and breezy, like they’re talking about the weather and not how long someone can survive after being skinned alive.
“It all depends on the skill of the person doing the flaying, and what part of you they start with. And just in case you were wondering, my brother is damn good with a knife and knows a fuck ton about human anatomy and the circulatory system.”
Someone else laughs, but my attention is brought back to Xave when he gently cups my cheek in his big hand.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks softly, his expression full of concern.
I nod, not trusting that my voice won’t crack, and lean into his touch.
Something I can’t read flares in his eyes, and my breath catches as he gently smooths his thumb over my cheekbone.
“Yo, cuz,” someone calls.
Xave glances toward the voice, but he doesn’t drop his hand or make a move to step back from me.
“Nice shot,” one of the twins says as he spins a pair of butterfly knives around in his hands like they’re fidget toys and not deadly sharp weapons.
“Thanks.” Xave drops his hand from my cheek. “But stationary targets aren’t much of a challenge. It’s more fun when they’re running and think they actually have a chance to get away.”
My skin instantly goes cold at the loss of his touch, but instead of turning away, he takes my hand in his and laces our fingers together.
I hold on tight and use him as an anchor to stay calm as he gently tugs me closer to where his cousins are surrounding my attacker.
“You good, kid?” the twin spinning the knives asks me.
“Yeah.” I look between him and Xave. “I’m older than you,” I blurt out, because that’s what’s important right now.
He grins. “I know.”
“Believe it or not, him calling you a kid is a good thing,” Xave says, giving my hand a squeeze.
I nod, not really understanding what he means, but taking his word for it.
“So what are we going to do with this asshole?” the other twin asks as he spins a knife with a long, curved blade around his hand with just as much skill as his brother has with the butterfly knives.
“Get answers,” Xave says, his voice cold and dark.
The rational part of me knows I should be terrified. I’m alone in the dark with a group of rival frat members who are all armed, and who I know are killers.
Even just being around Xave should be setting off my danger alarms because it’s not like I haven’t seen what he can do. I watched him kill three men without even blinking, and I just watched him shoot another man right in front of me like it was nothing.
But I’m not scared. In fact, this is the safest I’ve felt in what feels like forever.