Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)(44)

“Oh no you don’t.”

“Why? Why did you have to tell him?”

“He deserves to know, Abby. And don’t think it was all ice cream and popsicles writing that email.”

Holy shit. “You emailed him?” Oh. My. God. He emailed him. Damien must have been livid.

My shoulders slumped and I sagged against the wall, staring at the floor, listening to the determined footsteps approach and stop beside Jedrik and me. I suddenly liked Jedrik’s arms caging me in because they kept me protected from Damien, but it didn’t last as Jedrik moved back and I was forced to look at him.

Damien’s eyes blazed with fury and his rock-hard body—in a snug black T-shirt and faded blue jeans—was tense, tatted arm muscles bulging. But he wasn’t looking at me; he was looking at Jedrik, which was somewhat of a relief.

“Delara coming to help with Liam?” Damien asked, and my heart skipped a beat at the sound of his deep, husky voice.

Jedrik nodded. “She’ll be here any minute. I’ll stay to make sure she’s safe. You get Abby the f*ck out of here. Her thirst is too strong and Liam knows it. This goes down now.”

Damien nodded in my direction, but refused to look at me. “She know what’s up?”

“Umm, I’m right here,” I said.

Both men ignored me. “I stocked the cottage for six months. The room is ready and the place is seriously secluded, so no one will hear her. You have the directions, right?”

Hear me? The room was ready?

Damien nodded.

“Don’t leave her alone for a second and secure her, for f*ck’s sake.”

We were leaving? Now? Liam would freak out if I took off. We were supposed to wait until later tonight after I left Liam.

“Balen says it’s worse at night and she’ll say or do anything in order to get what she wants. And you know as well as I what that is.”

Damien still didn’t say anything and I silently freaked out as the puzzle pieces started to fit together.

“Guess I can’t call you Virgin King anymore.” Jedrik laughed, but Damien’s brows dropped low and his lips pursed. The laughter ended abruptly as Jedrik shifted his attention to me. “Good luck, sugar.” He winked then jogged down the corridor and disappeared into the bar.

Ah, what just happened? Damien was here. Jedrik left me with him, and by the sounds of it, we were leaving, not just the bar but the city—together.

Damien moved in and I immediately tried to move back, but couldn’t because my back was already against the wall. “Damien, what—” My voice stopped. Or maybe it locked or maybe it was ripped from my throat by his eyes briefly flicking to mine. Those cold, dark eyes that were currently filled with anger.

“Not f*ckin’ now, Abby.” His hand shot out and latched onto my wrist to keep me in place.

I gasped as the zing of electricity burned through me and I dared myself to glance up at Damien but chickened out, instead opting for staring at his chest. It was exactly as I remembered, hard, smooth hills and valleys that I’d tasted every inch of.

Damien was the hottest, sexiest, and most demanding guy I’d ever been with. There was no soft and gentle with him; it was raw and hard and owning.

God, when Damien f*cked me, he did it how he wanted. I had no say, but it didn’t matter because it ended up how I wanted, too.

“Stay next to me. No matter what happens, keep your shit controlled. Got it?” Damien said with a hint of his subtle Irish accent.

“Yeah. But where—”

“Not now, Abbs.” He was the only one besides my mother who called me that. “Head low. If they don’t recognize you, we have a golden horseshoe up our asses.”

He tugged me forward down the corridor. I hobbled because I was shoeless on one foot, but I didn’t dare complain. I may be stubborn and have a mouth on me, but I wasn’t stupid. Damien was dangerous. Damien was a Scar. And Damien just found out I was carrying his child—by email.

Oh, and word was he hated women. From our two nights of passion, I’d have refuted the last one, up until this very moment. Now, I was thinking hate was too mild of a word.

He led me down the corridor toward the exit and his arm moved to possessively curl around my waist. His stride was aggressive and determined as we approached the bouncers blocking the fire exit. The two men stepped aside, one even held the door open for us. That was until he noticed my missing shoe.

“Miss? Your shoe is—is that you, Abigail?”

Fuck.

Damien let me go and whirled, his fist slamming into one guy’s face, landing him on his ass outside the door. The other guy, who was closest to me, attempted to grab my arm, but Damien was quicker. A sharp uppercut beneath the guy’s chin and a hard kick to his chest sent him sideways into the brick wall.

I heard the sharp crack as his head hit. Then the guy crumpled to the floor, a dribble of blood sliding down the side of his face. Damien dove for the other guy outside, but I couldn’t move as I stared at the fresh blood on the bouncer’s face, which was now dripping off his chin.

The bloodthirst rammed into me and I licked my lips, pulse throbbing. I fell to my knees beside the bouncer.

Oh, God, the scent of it was like breathing in fresh oxygen. I had to have it. I’d die without—

“Oh no, you f*ckin’ don’t.” Damien’s hands seized my shoulders and yanked me to my feet. He shoved me out the door and kicked it closed behind him.