Chapter 12 Damian
The stench of cheap liquor hit me the moment the bouncer let me and my guards inside. Sweat and bodies pressed into the walls. Heat glued to my skin like a second layer. Dim lights pulsed over the crowd, catching faces lost in motion. Voices folded into one restless hum.
I pulled out my phone. The red dot blinked on the map. She was here. Did she really think she could walk away? The second I read her message, I reached for the phone. No hesitation. Less than an hour later I was in the helicopter, headed straight for Woodstock. I slid the phone into my pocket.
“You two, wait at the bar.”
Karl and Rick nodded and took position where I wanted them.
My gaze swept the room, slow, deliberate.
Somewhere in this chaos she stood. Then my eyes found someone.
The curve of her neck. The fall of her hair.
The tilt of her head. His body against hers.
He kissed her—unhesitating. For a second, I forgot how to move.
The world shut down. Club, bass, voices—gone.
Only that moment remained. Her. Him. That kiss, tearing my chest open.
I never want to see you again. It’s over, she’d written.
Her words burned in my skull, louder than the music.
And now she stood there, hand on his shoulder like it had always belonged there.
Too easy. Too familiar. Too calm. She tilted her head as if listening, smiling, playing along.
Then she pushed him back lightly, said something I didn’t hear and didn’t need to.
She looked up. As if she’d felt me. Our eyes locked.
One second, maybe less. Maybe forever. I saw the instant she realized I was there.
A tremor passed through her—almost nothing.
Her smile froze. Her hand dropped from his shoulder like it burned.
Her eyes stayed on mine, caught, wide with shock.
Not dramatic. Not staged. Real. Raw. A wave crashed into her.
She forced stillness, but her face betrayed her.
She knew I’d seen everything. Every touch.
Every goddamn second. Cold under my skin began to hum.
I thought I was ready—for anger, for pain. What rose was darker. Not emptiness—something worse. Something alive, hungry for air.
I closed the distance until inches separated us.
“You have five seconds to take your hands off her,” I said, flat.
He turned, startled, then laughed like I was a joke. “What the—?”
“Four.” My eyes locked on his. Had she really replaced me with this? This nobody touching what was mine? Every nerve burned. It took everything I had not to break his face.
“Dude, are you insane? Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Three.” I wasn’t counting for him. I was counting to remind myself I still had a choice.
“Two.” His hand slipped from her shoulder—reflex. Smart move. Not fast enough.
“What the hell’s wrong with you, man?”
“One.” I stepped closer. “If you touch her again, I’ll kill you.”
“Damian!” Daisy’s voice cut through me like a blade. I grabbed her wrist. Not to ask. Not to beg. To take. Pull her out of this cesspool of a club.
“You’re coming with me.”
She could have refused. She didn’t.
We took three steps before I felt resistance. I turned. His hand had found her arm.
“Didn’t I tell you what happens if you touch her again?” I growled.
He lifted his chin, defiant. “What are you? Her bodyguard? Her boyfriend? She’s not your property.”
“She is.”
“You sick fuck.” He spat and swung—a sloppy punch to my jaw, fueled by bravado.
“Oliver, stop! What are you doing?” Daisy screamed.
He had the audacity to hit me. For a breath, everything froze. Then my fist collided with his face, the full weight of everything inside me behind it. He staggered into a couple, found his balance, and lunged back, reaching for her hand like he hadn’t learned.
My fist met him again, clean and fast. Blood flew.
This time he stayed upright and hit back, hard to my ribs, again to my shoulder.
I grabbed him and slammed him into the wall.
He gasped, swung an elbow. I dodged, yanked his collar, hit him.
Once. Twice. Blood ran. Spit sprayed. He reached for a bottle; I kicked it away.
The fight blurred. Daisy’s scream of my name cut through it, but rage roared louder.
Karl and Rick hauled me back, wrenching my grip.
“Enough! Damian—stop!” Karl barked. Others shoved in. Music died; panic spread.
Three men in dark suits forced forward. One grabbed Rick by the collar. Another squared up to Karl.
“Out. Now!” one ordered. Karl shoved him back, glare razor-sharp.
Oliver struggled up, face a smear of blood, eyes still defiant. Daisy stood between us, shouting. Words I didn’t hear. I had no patience left.
I stepped forward and lifted her into my arms. She was mine. She was leaving with me. End of story.
Her resistance was weak, half-hearted. I punched through the press of bodies, Karl and Rick flanking me, the exit a tunnel I wouldn’t stop for.
I shoved her into the limo. My hands trembled with fury and desire, but I held back from hurting her. She fell onto the seat; her knees hit the plush carpet. Her breath came ragged, hot in my veins.
The door slammed shut with a heavy thud, echoing inside me. I hit the button, the divider sliding up. Just us now. Locked in this cage of leather and her scent. She was here. She was mine.
So why did it feel like she was tearing me apart?
Her eyes locked on mine, blazing with fury, but under the anger was a raw hunger that shredded what was left of my sanity.
Her legs were parted just enough, her skirt hitched to flash a strip of pale skin that pulled at me like a magnet.
Her hair was wild, damp strands clinging to her cheeks.
Her lips—glossy, parted—were begging to be ruined.
She was a fucking nightmare. A poison I swallowed willingly.
My heart pounded, a dull ache, while my cock throbbed hard against the fabric of my pants.
“What the hell is this?” she hissed, voice shaking with rage. The tremor in it burned the last of my restraint. “You have no right!”
“No right?” I growled, each word heavy with things I couldn’t cage.
I leaned in until my fists curled so tight my nails bit into my palms, drawing blood.
She’d kissed him—that prick, his filthy mouth on hers.
The thought stabbed through me, a red haze sliding over my vision.
“I saw you with him, Daisy. You think I’ll let that go? ”
“You fucking idiot!” she screamed. Fury and tears at once. “And what about Silvia? I saw the pictures online!”
Her words barely landed. The way her hands clawed the seat. The rise and fall of her chest—those small betrayals mattered. She was hurt.
“Silvia means nothing,” I snarled. “Her father arranged that. You know it.”
“Liar!” she spat, though the edge in her voice trembled, as if she wasn’t sure.
Her phone buzzed, a sharp cut. She reached; I was faster, ripping it from her hand. Jenn’s name lit the screen. I answered, my tone ice. “Daisy’s fine. I’ll bring her to you tomorrow.” No pause. I tossed the phone aside and looked back at her.
Look at me, Daisy. See what you’re doing to me.
Her cheeks flushed, lips trembling. I drank her in—the flutter of lashes, a bead of sweat tracing her neck, the tiny twitch of her fingers. She was a masterpiece I kept unmaking.
Her phone buzzed again. A low sound crawled up from my chest. “Have you been drinking?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at the haze in hers. “Who the fuck was he?”
“My ex,” she snapped, chin lifted, brittle.
The word detonated in my head. Ex. He had touched her. Kissed her. My vision blurred, my breath caught, and my hands trembled as I stared at her. It wasn’t just jealousy—it was a burning, all-consuming fire.
She was mine. Only mine. How dare she?
“Your ex?” My fingers wrapped around her wrists, closing tight on soft skin, her pulse hammering beneath my thumbs. I shoved her into the seat with desperate resolve.
“You go to a club, get drunk, and kiss your fucking ex? Are you trying to drive me insane, Daisy?”
“It’s none of your business!” she hissed, but her eyes betrayed her—wide, wet, shimmering with longing. She wanted me. She needed me. And it tore me apart.
“It’s all my business.” My face was so close I felt the shaky warmth of her breath. “You’re mine, Daisy. Only mine. No one else touches you. Ever. Understood?”
“Let me go!” she spat, but her hands stayed limp, her resistance only in words.
“I can’t let you go,” I whispered. “Not ever.” My grip slid to her chin, tilting it, forcing her eyes into mine. Her pupils were blown wide, and I saw it—she wanted me as much as I wanted her. Fuck. She was my ruin.
“Say it. Tell me you’re mine.”
“You’re sick,” she breathed.
“Sick for you,” I murmured, before crushing my mouth to hers.
She jerked her head away. “Fuck you.”
I grabbed her chin again, my mouth crashing down on hers, demanding. My tongue pushed deep, tasting her—wine, salt—and I groaned into her throat. Her taste. Addictive. I wanted to devour her.
Her nails scraped through my shirt, dragging me closer, like she couldn’t get enough of me.
It was pain and release in the same breath, tearing me open even as she stitched me back together.
I yanked at her top—buttons snapped, scattering across the floor, pinging against the glass.
Her breasts spilled free, soft and full, nipples peaked a deep pink against her pale skin.
My hands closed over them, firm enough to make her gasp, her back arching into me.
I kissed down her throat, found the hollow, and sucked until her skin bloomed red beneath my mouth.
Vanilla wrapped around me, dizzying, filling my lungs until I breathed her more than air.
My lips grazed her ear as my fingers tightened at her throat.