Damion's Rib Haven Novels & Stories

The morning air was a bit harsh, sweeping through Damian's hair as he had his windows wound down. He couldn't contain the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he stepped on the gas, and in record time he was parked in front of Safe Haven. He parked his car in such a haste that he had only realized that the pastel-blue Safe Haven sign was not lit up and a crooked 'Closed' sign hung in the window, when he got out of his car. His jaw ticked.

This was deliberate. Engineered. Sustained for years. Perhaps decades. Damian slipped the note into his pocket. Decision already forming behind his eyes. Amara recognized it immediately. "You're going to Port Harcourt." It wasn't a question. Damian looked at her. Then smiled faintly. The first genuine smile she had seen from him in days. Brief. Dangerous. Certain. "Yes." Tobe looked horrified. "Absolutely not." Damian ignored him. "The account is probably offshore-linked."

She is going to hate me if she finds out I have been smooching her stepbrother. "Hey babe," Damian said while coming into the bedroom and disconnecting me from my thoughts. He climbed on the space beside me as he removed his shorts he was on leaving just his boxes, I shyly look away. "You are still shy aren't you?" he said as he teases my neckline with his tongue and inhales my scent, placing soft kisses on my lips. he looked into my eyes and said

My ribs ache like someone took a bat to me, my body feels as if it’s been hit by a cement truck, and my stomach is lined with wet concrete. “Welcome back,” Jackson’s voice drills into my skull like a jackhammer in slow motion. I touch my temple and wince. “Were I out long?” “A minute, maybe two,” my twin states flatly. I force myself upright. My vision steadies enough to focus. A foul smell burns my nose — sour vomit. Damion is sprawled out on the floor in nothing but his undies, skin the color of skim milk. Fresh puke on the side of his face, in his hair, on the ground.

I kept my hands folded in my lap as we drove, wondering what I had gotten myself into by agreeing to this. Inside the car, it was quiet for a long time. I finally broke the silence. “Tell me about your family.” Damien’s expression changed right away. “There’s not much to tell.” “I doubt that,” I said. After a pause, he started talking. “My father remarried after my mother died. Victoria is my stepmother. She likes control.” I smiled a little. “That’s your warning?” “No.” He glanced at me briefly. “This is. Answer only what you’re asked. Don’t volunteer information.”

Damon stood by the glass, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up, looking dangerous and hungry. “Close the door,” he ordered. She did. “Damon, about last night—” He moved fast. In two strides he had her pinned against the cool glass, her back to the city. His big hand yanked her skirt up roughly around her waist. “Shut up,” he growled. “I’ve been hard all day thinking about this dripping cunt.” Before she could argue, he dropped to his knees right there in his expensive suit. His strong hands ripped her soaked panties down her legs and tossed them aside.

DAMIEN I had noticed her the moment she was dragged into the throne room. Even in chains, the daughter of a criminal, Rosalia Muller commanded attention—not with the practiced grace of our court ladies, but with something far more intriguing. Her dark red hair caught the light filtering through the stained glass, creating a halo of crimson around her face. There was a wild beauty in her desperation, in the way she held herself despite everything crumbling around her.

“Ms. Rodriguez? Vivian is here to see you.” “Send her in.” The door opened, and Vivian Aschroft stepped inside, looking more strained than usual. She sank into a chair, rubbing her temples. “Damien’s upstairs,” Vivian said quietly. “Saw the doctor finally after all the “I don’t need a doctor”. Three cracked ribs, a mild concussion… he looks like he went twelve rounds with a train. And he’s still talking about her.” “Amelia.” “Always Amelia,” Vivian sighed, a flash of old guilt in her eyes. “It’s like a sickness.”