4 Don't know what I'm doing

Date = 5 September

Place = San Francisco (Uncle John’s house)

 

POV – Melaena

Not as they seem? Is he trying to claim innocence? How can his affairs, which are plastered over the news every week, by the way, be anything different? I look at his confronting emerald eyes and start throwing ideas through my mind. Did he just tell me not to judge his affairs? Does it look like I’m the judgy type?

“I’m not accusing you, but your shenanigans with the female species make for a very convincing closing argument. You could object that I don’t have all the facts, and that’s true, but everybody can witness the evidence of so-called flings in the tabloids and social media. Your face is plastered at least weekly, all over the internet, each time with a different BRUNETTE smiling at your side.”

I suddenly wonder what it is with him and dark-haired girls. It’s definitely his type. And I’m definitely not.

He rubs his jaw as he studies me from under spiky black eyelashes. He has a hint of stubble like maybe he didn’t have time to shave.

It shouldn’t be so damn sexy.

He has gone from boy to man in the past ten years and it doesn’t help that he has this way of drawing me in. Even by just standing there, eyes flaring with a restrained temper — pissed off — he is all kinds of hot.

“Not to mention that I’ve personally experienced your love-em-and-leave-em deviltry first-handily — TWICE. So, your honor, the accused is found guilty of being a heartbreaking player. Court adjourned.”

I give him my best battle-winning smile ever, but it’s short-lived as the warmth drains from those green eyes until he’s staring back at me in sorrowful regret. It’s like a door slamming closed. What the frick?

For a moment, we’re just standing there drowning in each other’s gazes. Or I’m drowning. Not sure about him.

He really has the best eyes — Dulux Wicked Witch — to be precise. I would know cause I painted my dresser that exact color in my senior year. The one that holds my underwear. Because I like green.

“Damion, we’re going to shoot some balls!” Logan calls, walking past us, breaking the spell. Then I feel an arm encircling my waist from behind and a kiss lands on my cheek. I look up into Ren’s warm brown eyes. Eyes that do not affect me. At all.

“Hi babe, sorry I’m late.” Damion’s expression changes to hard and cold. I hate that Ren calls me babe! It reminds me of the little talking pig flick and I’m not a pig, even though the little swine was pretty darn cute.

The brunette I saw clinging to Damion earlier grabs a hold of his arm with a potent smile.

“Ah, at last, we’re all together,” she says stiffly as if afraid of cracking her postbox red lipstick. Damion seems pissed. She’s pretty with her dark bob hair, flawless face, and tall curvy body. And she sure loves red — her slutty dress is the same hue as her lips and nails.

“Oh, where’s my manners?” the bitch sites, now with a fake smile and a warning in her dark eyes. I don’t like her. She reminds me of this huge spider Jackson used to keep in his room — they have the same glare. I put on a mocking dummy smile too.

“I’m Chloe, Ren’s friend from school, and … " she wavers, pouting those red lips up at Damion, “hopefully … soon I’ll be this man’s wife.” Holy fuck! I glare at the biker but his face is as unemotional as a table. Is he really going to marry this bitch? Wow. I bite my lip cause all of a sudden a pain is slashing through my chest, watering my eyes.

Ren holds out his hand to Damion. “Hi dude, I’m Ren, Mel’s b o y f r i e n d.”

I may be wrong, but I’m sure he intentionally pushed the last word out. Damion hesitates just for a second, staring into Ren’s eyes, his own pulled into a frown, blazing as if it’s on fire. He pulls free from the red-nailed claws, turns around, and walks away without another word, ignoring Ren’s hand and the girl with the tight face. I swear her face got even more taut.

“Friendly chap that one, like always.” Ren frowns. Yeah, his friendliness will for sure drive me to alcohol, man-whores, and the murdering of small-brained rodents!

“I didn’t realize that you know him.”

“Oh, I haven’t met him, face to face, but he has a reputation … and he likes to use it.”

I wonder what he means. Maybe Damion uses his fame to pick up girls. Not that he needs to. And I know for a fact that Damion hates that part of his job the most. The fame — not the girls. They all do — Logan, Jackson, Enrique …

“I’m going to look for Jason,” Ren says, “You and Chloe can get to know each other a little. Maybe you’ll even become best friends. That would be awesome.”

Yeah. Not going to happen.

As soon as he’s gone, I excuse myself as politely as I can manage, to go get another fruity drink. How can Ren be friends with those people? I’m not sure who’s worse … Jason or Chloe. The girl is still standing at the table where I left her. I’m not going back.

Nope. I need to find Kiara. Fast.

I scan the room. No luck. Maybe she’s in the games room.

I side-step a few times, trying to avoid bumping into someone, and walk into my uncle’s man cave, just to find Damion shooting some balls all alone.

“You stalking me?” I ask pointing a finger at him.

“I could ask the same question since I was here first.” Again with that freaking smirk. He’s wearing faded jeans that look annoyingly good on him. As he leans over to take a shot, those designer jeans slip low, revealing an inch of orange CK trunks and a sliver of smooth flesh, not to mention the hint of prime male ass.

“Have you seen Kiara?”

“I’m not her keeper, am I?” OMG, he will drive me to murder. He sinks a ball in the right-corner pocket.

Someone staggers through the door, holding onto the walls. It’s Jason. He stops right in front of me and it takes him a few minutes to register who I am. He blinks his bloodshot eyes several times and then a smile appears on his drunken face.

“Oh, hi beautiful.” He tries to stand up straight but falls forward onto me, his hand awkwardly grabbing hold of my boob.

“I warn you, Steward, keep your hands off her!” An angry growl erupts from somewhere and Jason flies back to hit the wall with a loud thud. He struggles to get up and glares at Damion, now standing between us. The biker seems tense.

Jason swings from side to side, steps forward, and focuses on Damion’s face. He points a shaky finger right at the biker’s nose.

“I’m not scared (hic) … of you anymore.” He slurs his words and with drunken bravado shoves Damion, pushing him with both hands. Jason falls against the table, but Damion stays rigid. He doesn’t move an inch.

“And you can (hic) … stick your threats (burp) … up your ass … you can’t … you can not tell me what (hic) …. what to do … I … I am not … scare me …” He sloshes his words around.

He’s not making any sense. He must be drunker than I thought. He launches a pathetic punch aimed at Damion’s face who dodges it with ease.

“Fuck this.” A fist flies out and hits Jason square on the jaw. He hits the wall again and slides down into a sitting position — man down.

I step back, bump into the table, and start to lose my balance. Strong hands grasp my middle, keeping me upright. Straight against his body.

“What was that about? You just hit the guy! Not that I don’t like it, ‘cause I do. He deserved it.” I’m babbling.

That BEAST smirk turns into a cocky grin that he knows is sexy as hell. He knows exactly what he’s doing to my libido. I mean he’s been trained or schooled to get under a girl’s skin and into her pants …

A voice in the back of my head tells me to push away and run, but my body doesn’t listen and that gland in my brain is starting up.

“Stop doing that,” I can’t let him see how he affects me. I won’t let him play with me and my heart again.

“What?” His cocky grin now turns even sexier and his eyes, oh boy, don’t even get me started with that. It’s those damn vampire eyes. Maybe I should start wearing Vervain.

“That thing you’re doing with your eyes! It might work with other girls, but I find it annoying!” Annoyingly sexy that is.

“Really?”

“Yes, not everybody thinks you’re hot, you know.” His grin gets even bigger. It’s as if he knows I’m lying. And that’s unsettling.

“I never had complaints before, but good to know! I’ll put that in my confidence-building speech.” He pulls me so close that my breasts are squashed against his chest, and I’m sure he can feel my hard nipples through both our clothes. I tilt my head up to him, his eyes trapping me and I can’t move, my heart beating so hard I swear it’s going to explode.

He cradles me between his legs, moving his hips against mine while pushing me up against the pool table. So many times have I dreamed about experiencing feelings exactly like this, utterly consumed by somebody, sparks flying … but why does it have to be HIM?

The look in his eyes is a combination of danger and trouble, and it’s so intense it terrifies me. With one hand, he tucks my hair behind my ear, moving his fingers to stroke my neck. A shiver moves down my body and causes an aching feeling between my thighs. A soft moan escapes my lips and I bite my lower lip, preventing another sound from slipping past it. I want him to do all the terrible things to my body that I’ve read about. He licks his lips and I want to move my hand and push my fingers through his hair, but instead, I just press my palms against his chest. Then he places his forehead against mine and inhales deeply.

“You’re mine, Mel Blackburn. You just don’t have any idea what you’re doing … " His voice is husky and soft.

“Mel, you in here?” Kiara calls from just outside the door, interrupting him. Damion quickly removes his hands, leaving me feeling both cold and hot at the same time. And the recoil hits me so hard that I need to steady myself against the pool table just to not fall to the ground.

Clearly, my hypothalamus is suddenly working a little too well, damn gland. I almost kissed the devil. And now I’m feeling euphorically sick.

Kiara enters the room, followed by my brothers. They don’t look too surprised to see Jason lying limp against the wall — and they don’t ask.

Damion pushes past everybody without saying a word.

At the exit, he bumps into Ren and Chloe.

Without warning, he grabs a surprised Ren, holding his shirt collar in a tight grip.

“I’m not scared of you, dude!” Ren grumbles, a strange light in his eyes. His body seems tense, contradicting his words.

“You should be, DUDE,” Damion says calmly and removes his hands slowly. He wipes some imaginary dust from Ren’s shoulder.

“You should be.” He lightly slaps Ren’s cheek with his palm a few times before he storms off. Chloe chases after him.

“I’ve got it,” Axel says and leaves. I’m not sure what he has.

“What’s wrong with Damion?” Kiara asks.

“I guess he just doesn’t like assholes!” Jackson’s eyes are on me hanging onto the pool table for dear life, my legs too wobbly to stand on.

“It must be that.” Logan looks at Jason’s limp body, pulling his mouth into an upside-down smile before he too eyes me.

“There’s something majorly wrong with that guy, and I want you to stay away from him,” Ren orders me in a shrill voice, still angry after getting manhandled, his eyes are so full of hate that it scares me. I want to tell him that he can’t tell me what to do but my voice hasn’t returned yet.

“Maybe you’re the one she must stay away from!” Jackson hisses at Ren, staring at him with a stern face. For some reason, Jackson despises my boyfriend. Is he my boyfriend? We haven’t made it official yet. Ug, it doesn’t matter.

“And if I catch you ordering my sister like that again … " he doesn’t finish his sentence, but his eyes clearly show that whatever he didn’t say is not something good.

Ren swallows hard and doesn’t say anything back.

“He’s freaking hot.” Enrique looks at the beauty in his arms as if he didn’t know she could actually speak.

“Peops, you hear this ….” Enrique says mockingly. The girl looks up at Enrique’s teasing eyes and pouts her lips for a kiss.

“Jealous?” Enrique gives her a little peck but doesn’t answer. If she knew my brother, she would know that Enrique never EVER gets jealous of a girl. None of them do.

“She’s right, he for sure is one of the best-looking men out there.” Kiara agrees with the redhead, “But he’s just as dysfunctional as the rest of you,” she continues glancing at Logan as if he’s going to disapprove, but Logan only pouts his mouth.

“He’s the type your mom warned you to stay away from, but you just can’t do it, and then he shatters your heart into millions of pieces.” Isn’t that the truth?

“Exactly!” Kiara agrees again. “Damn, girl, you might not be as dumb as I thought.” The redhead frowns.

“Thanks,” she says, “I think.”

“What do you think, Sis, is he handsome?” Jackson, like always, must stir the pot even if it’s empty. All eyes move towards me and my mouth feels drier than a cactus in the desert and I swallow hard.

Anger gets hold of me. He’s a freaking pain.

“Who the fudge cares!”

Jackson smiles eerily as a serial killer would at his victim, but I don’t give a hooting hell at this moment. I’m mad — mostly at myself for being so weak — and a lot at Damion for making me feel that way.

I take big strides towards the bar before anybody thinks to ask some more questions. Like — why am I so worked up over my little brother’s stupid bloody friend? That right there is a VERY very good question. Another one would be — why does the gland in my brain dispense a whole cocktail of hormones only when he’s around?

The asshole enjoys making me suffer, getting under my skin, and making me angry on purpose. Gmf, telling me I don’t know what I’m doing! Hell, excuse me for not being a total slut who jumps every dick I see. Not that I’ve actually seen one for real.

I order a drink, trying to calm myself down. Ren pulls me into his arms and I rest my head on his strong chest. Maybe I should give him a chance. At least he’s not a psychotic, unfeeling, heartless maniac like certain other people. Sociopath — I’m sure he pulls girls’ hearts out for fun, squashes them, and buries them in his backyard while chipping another mark on his bedpost — cause that is what Damion is, a freaking sociopathic serial heart killer.

“I need you to stay away from that man.” Ren strokes my hair, but the anger inside me doesn’t subside.

“Is that an order?” I snap.

“You don’t know him,” he hisses. Oh, I think I know him well enough.

“He’s not right in the head.” True. But I still don’t like being told what to do.

“I guess you don’t know about the curse?” His voice drops. I push him away and look into his eyes.

“My curse?” He avoids looking at me as if he’s embarrassed. “Do you believe it?”

“No!” he answers quickly. “It’s not a curse. Jason told me. Damion started it to make sure no guy ever came near you. Apparently, you were … and still are … off-limits to everyone.”

Damion did WHAT?! I can’t frickin believe what I’m hearing! He is the reason for my awkward social life, my non-existent love life, why guys walked circles around me … and he dares to tell me that I don’t know what I’m doing!!!

Who’s freaking fault is THAT then?!

“Damion is the curse?” I ask, more to myself.

“Well, yeah. But don’t worry, I’m not scared of him,” Ren answers patiently.

“You should be,” I say without thinking. Ren pulls a strange face.

I see Damion leaning against the wall, arms folded, sexy as hell, looking at us. The brunette is clinging to his arm once more, but it’s as if he doesn’t even register she’s there.

Enrique walks up without his girl and pulls Chloe from Damion. She tries to hang on, but my brother is relentless. What the hell is going on? Why are all the boys dragging Chloe around like that?

Ren follows my gaze and also looks at Damion, who winks with a wide grin. I ignore his deceptively boyish smile — knowing full well that there’s nothing boyish about him — and go back to being mad.

“Are you in love with him?”

“No!” I answer way too quickly, and Ren turns his head back to look at me, a deep frown on his face. “I hate him,” I state to explain. But I also want him. Or rather … my body and stupid gland want him. Not my mind … or my heart.

Damion pushes that delicious body away from the wall and then he’s gone.

Ren whispers that he needs to go check on Jason and weaves through the crowd. I take a deep breath … and another.