Jean Claude Van Damme Joven Novels & Stories

“Already dripping. You really are a whore for this inheritance, aren’t you?” “Shut up and fuck me,” I shot back, rolling my hips as much as the restraints allowed. He laughed darkly and slapped my ass hard. The sting made me moan. Then I heard more footsteps. Louis and Damien had arrived. Louis was twenty-six, leaner but ripped, with tattoos snaking up his arms and a wicked grin. Damien was the youngest at twenty-five, built like a linebacker, quiet but with intense green eyes that always seemed to see right through me.

I had a sudden surge of empowerment with my mates by my side and I wasn’t going to waste it. “You listen here! If you know anything about it or if something bad is going to happen you darn well better tell me! Jeanette is my sister and I won’t have--” He raised his hand indicating I should calm down. “I love it when you’re assertive,” Damien said, licking his lips. I kicked him from under the covers. “Something does happen to your friend. I think you saw a bit of preview in your vision, but that’s much later. It’s not bad per se, depending on how you look at it,” he said.

They snuggled down into the cushions and curled up together. She found a TV station that had some inane action movie with the perpetual surfer dude Keanu Reeves in it. She didn't think he was bad looking, but the minute he opened his mouth, he sounded like a pothead and a moron. Damien was completely fascinated and repulsed by the whole thing. Every time some fantastic explosion or stunt would happen he would look up at her. "It's all Hollywood make believe, dear. It's not real."

Jade had picked it, something soft but serious, no statement pieces, no sharp shoulder pads, just Celeste, clean and unarmored. Damien stood behind the cameras, just outside the cone of lights. His arms folded, expression unreadable except for the subtle clench of his jaw every time a floor manager moved too close to her line of sight. He didn’t need to say it: One wrong word and I’ll burn this building down.

He is already damaged, and they know it. “Were there any rules, mother and father?” he asked, looking them in the eye. Damien has changed a lot in the years; he is now a hundred years old, and his little brother Aurelian is now a big boy, brought up by his brother. Damien never left his brother for once. If they lock him up in the dungeon, when he gets back, he will dress well and buy his brother gifts. Lying to him, he went on a quick trip. When they battered his body to the point were he couldn’t move, he avoided his brother, saying he was busy.

James said, stepping in. “Lock the door,” Damien replied without looking up. “So where’s the picture?” James nodded and pulled an envelope from inside his jacket. “Right here.” He handed it over. Damien opened it carefully, sliding out an old, slightly faded photo. He frowned, studying it under the desk lamp. “This… this was years ago,” he said quietly. “I was twenty-one here.” He tilted the photo closer. “And that’s Adrianna. We took this at the beach.”

The doors of the van fly open with a deafening bang, and a figure bursts through the smoke and fire, moving with lightning speed. Damian. He’s here. His eyes lock onto mine through the haze, and I feel a surge of relief, followed by the sharp sting of an overwhelming emotion I can’t name. He’s come for me. The men are caught off guard, their focus shifting from me to the chaos unfolding in front of them. Damian doesn’t hesitate. He barrels through them with a wild, furious energy, knocking one of the masked attackers to the ground with a single punch. Another man lunges at him, but Damian’s reflexes are quicker, and in seconds, the attacker is on the ground, groaning in pain.

I looked around the room with my most innocent smile, some people could be touchy about their age and I didn’t want to offend. “I’ll have you know I’m thirty years young, guys am I right?” Damien waves the hand holding his drink. “A stud through and through, old enough to get the job done and young enough to know what’s up” “Don’t ever say that again, you sound fucking ridiculous man” Rollings warned, disappointment painted heavily on his pretty boy features and I swallowed back a knot of laughter in my throat. A frown appeared between Damien's brows, making him look young as he scratched a hand over his scruff “That made sense”

When the world settled, I was back in the pack. But this wasn’t the same as before. The pack was smaller now, quieter. The figures moved like shadows through the trees, their faces blurred and indistinct. In the centre of it all stood Damien... not the boy I had seen earlier, but a teenager, his face sharper, his shoulders broader. He was sparring with the blond boy again, their movements quick and precise. The air was tense, their strikes carrying a weight that hadn’t been there before. The blond boy smirked as he ducked under one of Damien’s swings, his movements effortless. “Still too slow.”