Chapter 16 #2
“Hope you know what you’re doing,” calls Logan as Damien grabs the suitcase and wheels it out of the apartment with one hand while he carries me with the other.
We go downstairs and he settles me into the back of the car that’s waiting there, his arms still protectively around me. I begin to shiver, and he folds a blanket over me.
“Are you up for a bit of a trip?” he asks in a solicitous voice, and the fact that he’s asking anything of me is so surprising that it startles me out of my apathetic state.
But I can’t manage to say a word.
I find the little nook between his neck and his chest and settle there, breathing him in deeply, hating myself for being unable to resist him for long.
The chauffeur drives off and for a while, Damien’s attention is fixed on his phone.
I can feel the movement of his arm as he sends messages, his fingers typing fast. But then he puts his phone away and focuses on me.
His hand comes up to stroke my hair and he kisses my forehead. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he says.
His voice is low but there’s a warning behind it, barely concealed. He’s not giving me a choice.
I grit my teeth and shake my head with a touch of that feeble defiance I’m trying desperately to cling to.
“What was the panic attack about?” he prods, and I realize he knew, after all, that there was more to it than the dirt.
“Nothing,” I mutter.
“Tell me or I’ll punish you,” he warns in a matter-of-fact voice.
I don’t have the energy to go against his iron will. “You don’t want me.”
There’s a long pause, and then he growls, “Sometimes, I’d like to wring your neck.”
I close my eyes, my emotions too heavy to find an outlet. We spend the rest of the trip in silence.
When the car halts, Damien helps me out, or rather, pulls me out, his arm around my waist more like a vise than a support.
I look around me, blinking in surprise. We’re standing on a large flat surface coated in asphalt. Before us are several airplanes, and Damien guides me toward one of the larger ones, painted black, large red letters decorating its side: Devil Airlines.
A set of stairs has been folded down, and he gestures for me to climb up.
“Never been on a plane before?” he guesses, smiling in spite of the tension between us.
“I have,” I mumble.
“Oh?”
“With Noel.” I wince at the memory, and his own face grows dark.
“Let’s go.”
He guides me into a luxurious cabin, its upholstery as black as the plane outside.
At the back, just like in the Angel plane, is a bedroom, but he settles me on a couch in the main cabin, snapping a seatbelt shut over my lap before covering my knees with a thick blanket.
He sits beside me, his arm still pressed around me.
Only now it’s gone back to feeling protective.
Then I feel his other hand sliding up my leg, and in spite of all the contradictory emotions weighing on me, I can’t help but moan and close my eyes when it finds its way between my thighs and presses lightly against my cotton panties.
My wetness grows as he slides his finger back and forth, his mouth crushed against mine. Then his fingers slip inside my panties, and he finds my clit, already swollen with need.
He pinches it, sending a spark of pain through me, and I gasp.
“Now, tell me,” he says, his voice thick with threat and arousal.
“I…”
His fingers pinch harder, and I yelp out, my instinct to wriggle away only making it hurt more as his fingers remain possessively closed around my clit.
“Tell. Me.”
“Hello, Damien. Nice to see you. Can I get you anything?”
I blush at the idea that whoever is speaking might be aware of what Damien is doing to me under the blanket. My eyes flutter open. But my embarrassment is quickly overtaken by shock, and then pain, as I recognize the woman standing before us.
She’s none other than the voluptuous blonde that Noel showed me a picture of.
With the pain comes a sinking feeling. My stomach feels like it’s turned to stone.
So she works as an air hostess on Damien’s plane. Of course he’s having sex with her. How could he possibly keep his hands off such a beautiful woman? Is this why he brought me up here? To prove that I mean nothing to him? To humiliate me?
It’s shocking how easily I’m able to fall back into these dark thoughts.
Damien’s fingers are still on my clit, but he’s relaxed his hold. I manage a glance at him and see that he’s staring at me in confusion. Coming to his senses, he pulls his finger away from me and mutters, “Two glasses of Champagne, Alice.”
Alice. Logan mentioned someone named Alice. But for the life of me, I can’t remember what he was saying.
I kick myself, wishing I’d paid a little more attention instead of letting myself wallow in thoughts of self-pity.
Damien accepts the glasses with a curt nod of his head, the hand he’s kept on my upper arm nearly crushing me.
When he gives me a glass, the confusion on his face has passed, and the mask he wears is impenetrable.
I can just make out a spark of anger in his eyes, though.
I shiver, convinced it’s directed at me.
“Drink,” he orders, and he downs his own glass.
The sweet liquid feels sickening. Obediently, I take a sip, but I can’t manage much more.
He doesn’t comment, however, when I place my glass on the little table in front of me.
“She’s the girl you saw the picture of?” he guesses.
I nod miserably.
“And I suppose she’s the reason you don’t believe a word that comes out of my mouth?”
I don’t react, but he reads me.
“You’re a very silly girl, darling, do you know that?”
I turn away angrily as he pours himself another glass of Champagne and sips it pensively. When he’s finished, he stands up and calls Alice.
I clench my fists in humiliation.
She enters the cabin once more, all bubbly and sweet, batting his eyelashes at him, and I can tell that at the very least she’s into him.
He walks over to her and my heart sinks.
I fully expect him at that moment to take her in his arms and kiss her.
There’s no punishment he could devise that would be crueler, and there’s no doubt in my mind, as I take in his grim expression, that he does intend to punish me.
He pauses before her for a moment, and then he presses on a button overhead, and I hear the pilot’s voice.
“Yes, sir?”
“At what altitude are we currently flying?”
“Just above 9000 feet, sir.”
“Perfect.”
Damien releases the button, then heads toward the door.
“Open it.”
Alice’s eyes widen. “I didn’t realize you were planning to parachute…”
“Open it.”
Visibly confused, she presses on the door handle with one hand, while the other grips a handle on the wall, and the door slides open.
At once, I feel a huge amount of suction exerting itself in the cabin, and I’m sure I would have flown straight out of the door if I hadn’t been secured by a seatbelt.
My lungs feel crushed to my chest, my eyes go dry, and both Champagne glasses roll to the floor, shattering in pieces.
Damien and Alice both seem used to the sudden change in pressure, and are gripping handles on the wall.
“Jump,” orders Damien of Alice, yelling to be heard over the loud sound of the air gushing into the cabin.
She turns to him, her face white.
“But… but I don’t have a parachute…”
“I know. Jump!”
She stares at him, her eyes wide in horror, but before she can react, he grabs her arm and throws her out of the plane. She falls with a bloodcurdling scream.
Then Damien shuts the door again calmly. The pressure returns to normal, and he makes his way back to me.
He slides his hand once more around me, taking out his phone and reading a few messages distractedly, as if he hadn’t just killed a woman in the worst way possible.
“Damien,” I squeak out. “What was that?”
“Hmm?” He turns his head to me. “Oh, that. This plane is designed specifically for parachuting purposes. In most airplanes, you can’t open the door mid-flight, but thanks to a special design, it’s possible with the Devil plane.”
I gape at him. “I meant… I meant the fact that you pushed out that woman. She wasn’t wearing a parachute, was she?”
He shrugs. “I hope not. That would have defeated the purpose.”
“You killed her,” I say, my eyes wide.
Sighing, he puts his phone aside. “Yes, I did. Happy now?”
No, I’m not happy. I’m the furthest thing from happy possible.
My entire body is shaking, and I can’t understand my own reaction.
I’ve killed two people in my life without even batting an eye.
But they posed direct threats to the only people I ever loved.
The first man killed my mother. The second was intent on causing Damien’s death.
I can’t understand this senseless killing. He just… pushed her out of the airplane, unprovoked. My fear of being beaten again in some near or distant future merges with a new fear.
If he’s capable of doing that to her… what could he do to me?
He chuckles at my shocked expression, then unsnaps my seatbelt and drags me onto his lap. “Don’t worry, my darling. She’s the rat.”
My eyes widen. “The… the rat?”
“We know she’s been giving information to Angel. She’s the reason you were kidnapped by them twice. Anyone who hurts you is dead. And rats need to get weeded out, anyway. She was putting all of us at risk.”
As he speaks, my shock gives way to confusion, to a forgotten memory… then to a strangled feeling of anxiety as I realize that he’s reading me, as usual.
“Oh,” he mutters.
I close my eyes, but it’s too late. He must have seen the sudden flash of memory in my eyes, and slow comprehension dawns in his.
“You’ve never seen this girl before,” he guesses. “Not apart from the picture, that is.”
I confirm it with a shake of my head.
“So, how did you escape the first time?”
I try to swallow, but it doesn’t feel like I have a drop of moisture left in my body. He slides his arm around me, but once more it’s threatening, not protective. His hand squeezes my arm like an iron vise.