2. Willow
2
WILLOW
W hen I come back downstairs fully dressed in the cashmere sweater and denim mini skirt, Damien is leaning against his 1970 Dodge Charger R/T, the same car Dominic Toretto had in Fast and the Furious. According to his mother, his father had a car collecting dusk in their garage, but Damien had apparently fixed it.
I slam the door behind me, staring at his completely shredded body, the insistent ripple of muscles rolling through his tight long-sleeved black shirt and the loose fit of his faded black jeans.
His dark eyes roll over my body, lazy and slow, but that’s not what sends my skin ablaze. It’s the slow slip of his tongue over his bottom lip and the almost drunken look of his head lolling to the side.
“Nice car,” I shrug, gesturing towards the sleek, shiny vehicle. Damien glances up momentarily, his lips forming an almost inaudible mutter as he rolls his tongue over his perfectly straight front teeth. I fidget on my feet, nervously biting down on my bottom lip and feeling its gentle give between my teeth.
“Fuck,” he whispers, looking up briefly as he continues to mutter something under his breath before locking his eyes with me and running his tongue over the top row of his teeth. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, nervously biting my bottom lip.
After a moment, he scoffs, sliding off the car’s hood. “Get in the car, Pet. We’re late.”
I scurry on the tip of my heels and slide into the passenger side just as he revs the engine to leave. Damien doesn’t say anything as he shifts the car into gear, and I pull my knees to my chest as I sink into the leather seats. The engine's hum vibrates through the car, but it’s nothing compared to the electricity crackling between us.
Damien fucking Sterling is driving me to the school. One of the hottest guys I have ever seen is driving me to school, and he also happens to be the same guy I made an orphan because his mother gave me her heart after she decided to no longer continue chemo…well that went from romantic to tragic fast.
I sigh, sneaking glances at him, trying to focus on the road ahead instead of how ridiculously hot he looks gripping the wheel, his knuckles flexing with every gear shift.
“Stop that.” Damien’s voice cuts through the quiet, low, and teasing.
I snap my head forward, heat crawling up my neck. “W-what?”
“Stop biting your lip.” He growls, the veins in his forearm popping out as he grips his wheel tighter.
“Oh, I-I didn’t know I was doing that.” My words tumble out, and I hate how flustered I sound.
Damien growls, deep and rich, sending a shiver down my spine. “Relax, Pet. The only one biting is you.”
Heat scatters across my skin, and I can’t tell if it’s from his words or the sharp turn he takes onto the main road, but my chest burns as I hold my breath because that’s the only way I know how to keep my mouth shut right now.
“Don’t get all shy now, Willow. You were so…bold last weekend.” Damien says, chuckling to himself. I can feel the tips of my ears burning as my blush crawls up my next.
After a few minutes of driving, he breaks the silence again. “You know, you’re lucky I’m the one who came to pick you up this morning. Cast and Vincent would’ve had a field day with that little stunt.”
I roll my eyes, folding my arms over my chest. “My stunt? You mean me wearing my own clothes. Look, just because I don’t want to be your life-size Barbie doesn’t mean?—”
“What it means is that you are disobedient, Pet. Cast is going to have a ball with you,” he interrupts, glancing at me with a smirk that’s equal parts cocky and stupidly gorgeous. “But don’t worry, I won’t tell them. On one condition.”
My stomach tightens. “What condition?”
He slows the car as we approach a pale pink house. “You’ll owe me,” he says simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Owe you what? You already own me until graduation. I’m not giving you more than that.”
Damien parks the car and turns toward me, leaning in just enough for his scent—something woodsy and sharp—to wrap around me like a second skin. “That’s where you’re wrong, Pet. You owe me your life, remember?” He flashes a wicked grin, and before I can say another word, he reaches across me, grabbing the seatbelt.
“Damien, I can—” My protest dies in my throat as his fingers brush against my shoulder, his touch deliberate and slow as he pulls the seatbelt across my chest. His fingertips grazing the swell of my breast. I let out a shaky breath, watching as he clicks it into place.
“Safety first,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing as his ice-cold stare drills into mine.
I swallow hard, my pulse pounding in my ears, just as the sharp cold breeze knocks into my body as my side door is opened.
“Um…excuse me, weirdo.” A shrill voice that sounds like a southern belle if it wasn’t for the bitchy undertone cuts through the moment, but Damien keeps his eyes on me. “D, what is she doing in my seat?”
“She’s sitting in it.” Damien snaps, his body leans across mine, but I keep my eyes trained on Isabel.
Her blonde hair has auburn highlights in huge curls that frame her perfect, perky face and button nose. She’s wearing a pink cardigan a size too small that shows off her perfect b-cup breasts and a distressed jean mini skirt that barely covers anything. Yet, that’s not what annoys me about her. It’s the fact that Isabel Cambell has made my life a living hell for as long as I can remember, and she has always looked good doing it.
Isabel’s face twists. “ D, you’re seriously going to let the dog sit in the front?” She snaps, her ice blue eyes narrowing in on me, and before I can stop myself my hand is already racing to the seat buckle to unhook the belt, so I can scurry to the back.
Damien’s finger wraps around my wrist, and I pause looking up at him with caution, but his eyes are blank staring at Isabel. “ Don’t be classless Isabel. I waited outside for you to get dressed for thirty minutes this morning. Now walk to the other side, and crawl into the back.”
Well smack my ass and call me Sally, because the low rumble of Damien’s voice as he orders Isabel has my pussy clenching, and cold air from outside rushing inside has nothing on the heat radiating across my body.
Isabel sucks her teeth, and slams the car door so hard I flinch and a growl rolls through Damien’s chest as she stops to the other side of the car. Damien leans into my ear, and whispers. “Make sure you take your punishment like a good girl. Don’t want an untrained pet, do we?”
A squeak leaves my lps, but Damien is already pulling away leaving a cold front in his wake, but I couldn’t care less because the heat of his words burns me alive.
The drive to school is quick and silent, besides the 21 Pilots music playing low in the background and the clacking of Isabel’s nails against her phone as she texts in the back seat. I sit there, fidgeting with my hands on my lap, trying not to think too hard about Damien’s presence next to me. But it’s impossible. Every shift of the car, every small glance he throws my way, sends my mind spiraling deeper.
Why is he being nice?
Damien Sterling, of all people, isn’t nice. He’s cruel, cold, and calculating—especially when it comes to me. Every look he’s ever given me has been filled with disdain, and every word he’s ever spoken to me has been sharp enough to cut. But this morning? He flirted with me. He promised not to tell Vincent and Cast that I originally disobeyed their orders. He even drove me to school. He buckled my seatbelt, for God’s sake.
It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense.
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, my chest tightening when I see the tension in his jaw. He looks calm on the surface, but I can see the cracks beneath. The way his hands grip the steering wheel just a little too tightly. The way his shoulders are drawn up, like he’s holding something back.
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to keep my thoughts from spiraling further, but it’s no use. I know why Damien hates me. I’ve always known. It’s the reason why I can feel his resentment even when he’s silent. It’s the reason why his dark eyes always linger just a second too long, like he’s silently wishing me to disappear, or die.
I carry his mother’s heart.
Rosemary Sterling’s heart is beating in my chest, keeping me alive, while she’s…gone. Dead. She gave up everything so I could have a second chance at life, and no matter how grateful I am—or how much my dad reminds me that I didn’t choose this—I know Damien will never forgive me for it.
How could he? How could anyone?
To him, I’m a living reminder of everything he lost. Every time he looks at me, he doesn’t see me . He sees his mother. He sees what should have been hers.
The worst part? I can’t blame him. If I were in his position, I’d hate me too.
But then why is he being nice? Why is he flirting with me? Why does he have a nickname for me? I mean he calls me pet , which we have to work on because that’s a terrible nickname, but still it is something he calls me. Just me. I mean he even smiled at me this morning.
My lips spread into a small smile, but I’m jerked out of my daze by the sound of the passenger door opening. My head snaps up, and there he is—Damien, standing there with one hand on the door, waiting for me to move. The sight of him steals my breath, his dark grey eyes fixed on me with a calmness that feels anything but.
Behind him, Isabel sucks her teeth loudly, her perfectly arched brows pinched together as she glares between Damien and me. She yanks on Damien’s shoulder, eyes narrowing in on his partial attention. “We’re going to talk about this later,” she hisses, her tone dripping with annoyance. “And you.”
My eyes lock with hers, a chill crawling up my spine.
“You watch your back. I know all about your little arrangement, and it’s only a matter of time before the boys get bored and ask me to finish you off.” Without waiting for a response, she turns on her heels and storms off toward the school, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement.
I reach for Damien’s outstretched hand, and the moment our fingers touch, a jolt of heat shoots through me. He pulls me out of the car with an effortless strength, his grip firm but not harsh. The door clicks shut behind me, but I barely notice because he’s so close—so much closer than I’m prepared for.
The scent of him hits me like a punch to the chest, an intoxicating mix of ash and leather, so deliciously dangerous that it makes my knees weak and I have no choice but to use the car to keep me standing.
My fingers still tangled with his for half a second too long before I let go. My gaze locks onto his grey eyes—an arresting mix of dark and light—that pins me in place between the cold metal of the car at my back and the heat radiating off of him.
My chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, my heart hammering so loudly I’m sure he can hear it. Damien doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move.
The sunlight hits him just right, casting shadows that sharpen his features, making him look like some dark, untouchable god—looming over me with no intention of offering salvation.
My heart pounds against my ribs, and before I can stop myself, the words spill out of me in a rushed, nervous tumble.
“I thought you hated me.”
Damien’s lips twitch, and for a second, I think he’s going to ignore me. But then he laughs—a deep, rich sound that sends sparks of want dancing across my skin. He steps closer, crowding me against the car, his broad frame blocking out the sunlight.
“Oh, I do, Pet,” he murmurs, his voice low and velvety. His hand rests on the roof of the car, caging me in, and his eyes lock onto mine with a predatory intensity. “But I can’t break my new toy so fast.”
My breath catches as he leans in just enough for his scent—leather, ash and something else sharp and masculine like gasoline—to fill my senses.
“I’ve been waiting to break you for a long time,” he continues, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “And trust me, I will. But not yet. Not until I’ve had my fun.”
The words hang between us, heavy and electric. I’m too stunned to move, too overwhelmed to think. Damien’s gaze dips to my lips for the briefest moment before he straightens, taking a deliberate step back and giving me just enough space to breathe again.
“Get to class, Pet,” he says, his tone casual now, like he didn’t just say that he wanted to break me. Like I don’t feel like a dead man walking.
I stumble away from him, clutching my bag tightly as I watch him slide back into the driver’s seat. The Charger roars to life, and before I can even process what just happened, he’s gone, leaving me standing there with my heart in my throat and the ghost of his words echoing in my head.