CHAPTER 3

DAMON

It’s 10am in the morning. I’m dressed in a black shirt and black pants. I just killed two men and I don’t feel sorry about it.

They deserved it.

What wasn’t deserved was those bastards tampering with my plane or the two hour wait that somehow turned into four before the next available flight.

She’s probably gone, I thought as I endured the agonizingly long trip back.

But I told her to wait. I’m guessing she didn’t.

A cruel smile touched my lips. God help her if she didn’t.

She’d probably be beneath another man right now. My fist clenched immediately.

“What’s on your mind?” a cold voice called from beside me.

It was Micheal my right hand man.

“Why?” I asked lazily, tilting my head mildly.

“It’s not everyday I get to watch you lose control.”

I arched my brows in confusion.

“Come on man,” he scoffed. “I watched you smile while gutting two men alive and you don’t usually clench your fist like that because you’re always trying to keep your victims alive longer so they can feel the pain.”

I let out a quiet scoff.

Micheal liked to think he knew me so well. Truth is, he only understood parts of my danger.

“You’re right,” I admitted with a faint smirk. “There’s something on my mind.”

If I was being honest, she never really left it. And these last few hours had felt unusually long.

We arrived at the hotel a little past six.

She wasn’t there.

I nodded slowly to myself in pity. Did she just trigger my need just to hunt?

No.

It wasn’t even worthy of being called a hunt. She was a small prey. A few calls and I would find her.

And I did.

Through the tinted window across the street, I saw her laughing inside a tiny studio apartment.

She wore a low waist denim skirt that exposed the strings of her thong against those sinful curves and a leopard print halter top.

She was smiling, big.

God.

The way she curled her lips while applying mascara, the way she tucked her hair absentmindedly drove me insane.

Every second became torture.

I grabbed my throbbing cock through my trousers while my other hand tightened around the steering wheel.

There was no reason a girl I touched less than twenty four hours ago should have this much effect on me.

Then she started unbuttoning the skirt.

I'm guessing she changed her mind about her outfit for the night.

The second she dragged the denim down her thighs, I lost whatever control I had left.

My breathing deepened.

My eyes remained glued to her every movement as I unbuttoned my trousers.

My cock sprang free, throbbing painfully.

I gripped it hard before stroking down slowly.

Every smile or turn, every time she ran her hand through her hair.

Every careless movement only made the ache worse and my strokes intensified.

By the time she stepped away from the mirror, changing into a leather skirt and knee high boots, my head had fallen back against the seat and my cum all over the steering.

I shut my eyes briefly before breathing out heavily.

“My little slut,” I muttered darkly.

I already knew where they were going.

So I drove ahead first.

Waiting.

For my girl.

The thought made something strange settle inside me.

My girl?

She didn’t even know my name or what I was. But I’m a hunter. And I wanted her.

That alone was enough.

Nothing and no one was going to stop me from getting her.

I sat in the VIP section of the club for almost an hour before irritation slowly started clawing at my chest.

Was I wrong?

Did her slut friend choose another club tonight?

I lit another cigarette.

That would be too many hands to cut off tonight.

Jealousy burned unpleasantly inside my chest.

I was halfway through the cigarette when I finally saw her walking through the entrance.

Her eyes looked nervous.

Uncertain.

But she still climbed onto the stage with those same trembling legs that walked toward me the night before.

My jaw tightened.

Now she’s stripping? My gaze darkened immediately.

Our eyes met.

She tried pretending she didn’t notice me until our eyes locked again.

This time she panicked, fell carelessly on the floor before dashing for the door..

I must’ve really scared her, because she didn’t even spare a second glance.

I didn’t follow immediately. I needed to calm the violent irritation rising inside me first.

A few minutes later, I finally stepped outside in search of her.

Just like I expected, she was trying to escape through the back exit.

I spotted her immediately.

Boots hanging from one hand while she sprinted toward the gate.

In a few long strides, I caught up to her.

I grabbed her firmly by the waist, ignoring the little scream that escaped her as she twisted against me.

“Let me go,” she squirmed.

“Don’t move,” I ordered calmly.

Just like the previous night, she stiffened immediately.

“I told you to wait.”

She scoffed angrily.

“Are you kidding me? You said that and then disappeared for hours while I waited around like some fucking beggar.”

“Aren’t you one?”

The second the words left my mouth, I saw it.

The way her honey brown eyes softened painfully, the mild trembling of her lips.

I hit a nerve.

“I’m a whore,” she whispered shakily, fighting tears. “Not a beggar.”

I stared at her silently for a few long seconds.

Then I decided I needed to stop this torture. Some sick part of me was becoming addicted to her tears.

She looked beautiful like this.

Wild curls everywhere. Clothes slightly disheveled. Her eyes were glossy with emotion.

Whatever this feeling was, it shouldn’t linger too long.

“How much?” I asked before I could stop myself.

I stepped closer until only inches remained between us.

My hand slid behind her head slowly, fingers stroking through the softness of her curls before gripping firmly enough to tilt her face upward toward mine.

“How much for the night?” I asked again, rougher this time.

She started laughing. Softly at first then harder.

God, even her weirdness intrigued me. My cock pulsed.

“I will never let you touch me again,” she growled.

Then she spit on me.

A laugh rumbled out of my chest immediately.

“If you’re so tough then why did you run like a frightened little rat?”

My amusement faded slowly as I studied her trembling body.

“Then why are you shaking right now?”

I stepped behind her and pushed her hair over one shoulder.

“You know it isn’t fear for the wrong reasons,” I murmured against her ear.

One hand wrapped around her throat while the other pulled her waist firmly against my erection.

“You’re scared of how I make you feel.”

I lowered my mouth against the nape of her neck.

“You lose control around me.”

My lips brushed against her skin slowly.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day long,” I muttered between kisses before my hand moved over her breast.

She gasped and stiffened.

“Come on angel,” I chuckled against her skin. “I know I’m good at this but don’t sound so surprised.”

She shoved herself out of my grip immediately and faced me with burning cheeks.

“Don’t do that again,” she breathed shakily.

“Oh I will,” I replied lazily. “There’s a lot more I want to do to you.”

“You’ll never get the chance!” she snapped immediately.

“I’d rather whore through this city than let you touch me again, you..you crazy bastard.”

I stared at her calmly for a second.

“Put your shoes on,” I said. “Let me show you something.”

My calmness seemed to throw her off, but curiosity eventually won.

She slipped her boots back on and followed me.

After the valet brought my car around, I drove us a few miles away to a quiet park.

“What exactly did you want to show me?” she asked impatiently.

“Shhh,” I interrupted quietly.

I could easily touch her until she forgot herself again.

Kiss her until she begged. But for some strange reason…

I needed her willing.

“I need you to let me have you,” I admitted honestly.

“Well you won’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you embarrassed me. And left me in debt. More debt.”

“I heard about that,” I replied calmly. “Something important came up.”

She rolled her eyes. Those striking eyes.

“So that’s what you brought me here to say?”

“No.”

I turned to face her fully.

“No one can touch you now, Laura.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

“How do you know my name?”

“I have my ways.”

“What’s your name?”

“Damon,” I replied smoothly.

“Alright listen to me Damon,” she snapped angrily. “You’re going to have to rape me because I’ll never willingly let you touch me.”

I shrugged lazily.

“May I lose my life the day I force myself on any woman,” I cursed.

“But you’d let another man touch you for the right price?”

“Yes,” she whispered bitterly. “That’s my life now.”

Then she swallowed hard before adding quietly,

“Anyone but you. You terrify me.”

“Well,” I said calmly, “here’s the bad news.”

I leaned back slightly.

“No one in New York is touching you anymore.”

A confused laugh escaped her.

“What are you? The mayor? Or Diablo, King of the night?”

A slow smirk touched my lips.

Interesting. She knew who I was, just not my name.

I reached into the back seat and casually handed her a small box.

“Open it.”

“Why? What’s inside?”

“Find out yourself.”

Her scream echoed through the empty street the second she opened it.

“You’re mad!” she screamed, instantly bursting into tears.

Then she started fumbling desperately with the car door.

“I made sure to take the finger from her non dominant hand,” I said calmly.

“She can still work as a stylist if she’s strong enough.”

Her horrified sobs only grew louder.

“But that,” I continued quietly, “was the price she paid for touching the hair on your head.”

I leaned closer slowly.

“Now imagine what happens to anybody you let inside you.”