###>>>
Chapter One

*"There's nowhere you can go that I won't find you. You are mine. You will always be mine and I will plant my seed inside of you, so that you will never be free."* 
*The words of a monster that is sometimes a man.*
**DRAVEN**
	When I got off the train at the Port Orchard Station, the first thing I noticed was the thick fog surrounding the town. Like wisps of smoke in a heavy blanket, branching like arms from a single cloud, it stretched everywhere. Wrapping around the evergreen trees and up along the mountainside. Settling over the ocean shore and the docks of Port Orchard, Washington.
	The sky above loomed a deep gray despite that it was mid-afternoon, and a fine sprinkling of rain danced in the air. It was beautiful, and now, it was my home.
	I had applied for a job at one of the few bars in town while I was still living in Florida. I'd been saving for the last three years awaiting the day I would finally disappear from Miami, forever. About two weeks ago, I got my chance. And I took it.
Then again, not sure if you would call what I was doing before, living. I guess, it was more like existing.
And...
Suffering.
Shrugging off the memories of the people I left behind, I step onto the mildly crowded street. Port Orchard wasn't the largest of towns, but for whatever reason there were a lot of people out on the streets. Picturesque shops line the block I am on, with towers of old-style cottage homes climbing up the hillsides behind it. To my right, I could see the fresh fish market near the docks and to my left, a bustling marketplace full of charming townsfolk selling their wares.
Lovely.
I had studied the map of this city on my phone before I busted it to smithereens, back in Miami. I was happy to see the pictures of this place were pretty accurate. Online it looked like a virtual heaven. For someone wanting to escape into rain and fog, it seemed perfect. The reality did not disappoint.
Hiking my backpack up higher on my shoulder I head toward the docks in the direction of my new place of employment.
The Moonlight Lounge sounded fancy, but I knew it wouldn't be. Not for the wages they were offering. Besides, this was not a town riddled with ritzy cars, and boujee customers. When I applied over the internet at the library in Miami, I didn't really think I would get the job. It was just one long shot hope in a string of long shot hopes that I had been fantasizing over.
Ironically, this position came with an apartment located above the establishment. Two birds with one stone there, so of course, it was the highest on my wish list. The owner wanted someone who could not only bartend but serve as kind of a live-in caretaker of the place. So naturally, it was perfect for someone like me. Someone who didn't exactly want her name on any lease.
Though, I may have '*accidentally*' checked the box marked male as opposed to female, and the offer I received *was* addressed to a Mister Draven Piccoli, I wasn't going to correct this miscommunication until I arrived. Which is what I was about to do now. Not many caretakers are ever female. Now, all that is left to do is pray my employer might overlook my little slip up and let me stay.
If not? Well, then I'd hold up in a motel or something until I found employment elsewhere. Now that I am here, like actually here, I am completely charmed by the mysterious aura surrounding the location. Now, I want this to be my home.
Glancing up at the neon sign flashing Moonlight Lounge in a modern font of purple lettering, I take a deep breath and push inside.
The bar is clean and mostly empty. Not completely unusual for bars at this time of day. The dim lighting and retro leather interior give the place an almost mafia vibe. Stepping further inside toward the long wooden bar, I pull off my hood and glanced around.
My eyes catch on the table in the far corner, closest to the tinted front windows. There are three men seated there and each of them look up the moment I walk in. One of them stiffens, sitting up to glare at me as I stare back. 
My chest constricts. My heart thumping in my ears. For a moment, it is as if I recognize him. As if I KNOW him, but that is impossible.
He is extraordinarily handsome, with dark red-brown hair in a short ponytail and eyes the color of burned coal. Deep and gray and... somewhat penetrating. The other two men appear more basic, and not nearly as intimidating as the first. Nothing special there, just a couple of muscle-bound dumdums with bad attitudes.
Their eyes shift toward me, all of them sneering. I lift my chin and look away, secretly hoping that one of the three is not the owner.
*Fuck you too, fellas.*
Turning my attention back to the bar, I ring the little bell next to the cash register, hoping it might catch the attention of whoever is in the back.
A tall, burly man who appears too young to be the owner, comes bounding through the swinging double doors behind the counter. Sporting  a scruffy brown beard and a head full of hair to match, he too, appears to be overly built and impossibly muscular. The guy's mouth twitches upward as he checks me out. His gaze roving over me from my head to my toes and then back again. Kind blue eyes narrow slightly when they catch on my backpack.
"Can I help you, little lady?" He asks with a smile.
I nod, "Are you Bartlett?"
Cleaning a tumbler with a terry cloth rag he pulled from the shelf, he nods. "I am. Who might you be?"
Here it is. The moment of truth.
"I'm Draven Piccoli. I'm supposed to start work today."
Bartlett tenses, his eyes falling toward the table in the corner, then shifting back to me. "No. You can't be. Draven is supposed to be a-a man."
I sigh, stepping closer to the bar to take a seat. "No, Draven is supposed to be the caretaker slash bartender. Why does it matter what sex 'Draven' might be?"
Bartlett chuckles. "Because the Draven I hired needs to know how to bounce people out of a bar and lift at least a hundred pounds. HE needs to be able to handle a gun in the wee hours of the morning on the night of a full moon. And you? YOU don't look like him."
"I can lift a hundred pounds," I argue, with a quirky smile. "Maybe not too many times in one day, but I can lift it."
I try to put a bit of pleading in my voice, hoping that I can play the cute card and he might buy in.
Shaking his head and setting a tumbler of amber liquid in front of me he whispers, "Have yourself a drink babydoll, and then be on your way. I apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused you, but I'm not in the market for any sexy caretaker."
I frown. Damn it. I knew this might happen, so why am I now so disappointed?
My eyes fill with tears that I'm careful not to let dry. I think I'm probably gonna need to shed a few to get my way. They are already burning  with the thought of the struggle this is about to present for me. Maybe I can find a job as a waitress. Or maybe, there might be a strip joint in town, and I can apply there. Strip clubs never turn down a fresh face - believe me, I would know.
Seeming to notice my discomfort, Bartlett leans in closer to me. "Just how far did you travel to get here sweetheart?"
Meeting his eyes and blinking back my tears, just for effect, I grant him a wavering smile. "Far enough."
He sighs. "I'm sorry to hear that. I can't help you."
Shit.

###>>>
Chapter Two

**DRAVEN**
"Right." I nod, choking back the disappointment I so willingly set myself up for. "Thanks."
Taking the drink in hand, I begin to sip the burning liquid. Savoring the flavor of failure before heading out into the rain. I watch Bartlett as his eyes trail behind me toward the guys in the back corner booth. A minute or two passes as I focus on finishing my drink. When I am done, not only am I feeling a bit better, but a bit braver.
"There wouldn't happen to be a strip joint anywhere in town, would there?" I ask, handing him back his tumbler.
His hand freezes just before taking the glass. Swallowing thickly, he shrugs. "Yes, there is."
A nearly inaudible growl sounds from somewhere in the room and I turn around, confused, scanning the place for pets.
Nope, no dogs anywhere.
I catch the stare of the man in the back booth. He's still glaring at me, and I have to resist the urge to flip him off. Rolling my eyes, I spin back around to face Bartlett.
"Could you tell me where it is? I need to find a job as soon as possible and I don't have a phone - so no GPS."
"Uh-yeah. I could but-um, I don't think that's the right crowd for a classy gal like yourself." He studies me carefully, tapping his fingers on the bar as if fighting with the urge to change his mind.
*This is good! You know you want to help me! Come on, just say yes!*
I shrug, "You have to start somewhere, right? A girls got to do what a girls got to do, even if it means dancing for chips." Then, getting up from the barstool I wave a quick goodbye. "Sorry for the misunderstanding, if you'll just point me in the direction of the strip club I'll be on my way."
He sighs again, lowering his head. "It's just past the docks, then about half a mile west," he says, and I nod.
Taking my first step toward the exit, I turn around and ram right into Mister Ponytail from the corner table. My hands push against his massive chest, and I shiver at the heat coming off of him.
*Holy mother...*
"Excuse me," I say in a whisper, trying to step around him. But he doesn't let me, grabbing my arm to hold me in place.
*Sparks.*
A tingling of awareness passes through me with his touch. My gaze freezes on his hand, a moan of pleasure tickles at the back of my throat. His grip gentles, but he doesn't let go.
"You won't be getting hired there either," he says with a smirk. My eyes lift toward his. His voice is deep and rich with arrogance. "You don't have what it takes to work there," he says haughtily.
Cheeks flaming, I stepped back from the idiot. Shaking his hand off my elbow, I say sweetly, "Oh really? How would you know?"
He loses his smile, glowering at me with disapproval then punching one fist lightly into his palm in irritation. "Because I own it."
*He owns a stirp club? This man?!*
*Well of course he does. Don't all assholes though?*
"Your loss then," I retort, crossing my arms over my chest. 
I know I'm not ugly. I'm actually pretty damn hot. I consider myself a ten - hell yeah I do. This stupid motherfucker should too. Not to mention that God just so happened to bless me with a fat round ass and a killer rack, thank you very much, so whatever bullshit this guy was slanging, I wasn't buying.
Turning back around to face Bartlett, I'm met with sorrowful eyes. He feels bad about this, I can tell. So, I lay it on him. Not giving a fuck anymore.
"Look, I know it was messed up for me to lie on the application. Truth be told, I knew you wouldn't hire me if I told you I was female. But I needed to get out of there! I was desperate." Then, I pause, allowing the tears that threatened to spill over moments ago, to finally come. "I still am."
Bartlett hisses with guilt, his gaze floating upward and behind me to where Mister Ponytail still stands. I can feel the heat of the prick up against my back and strangely enough, it is oddly comforting.
*No, no Dre! No unhealthy crushes allowed.*
"Just go back where you came from, Draven," Mister Ponytail hisses in my ear.
"I can't," I whisper, shaking off the tingles I felt with his use of my name and wiping my pitiful, fruitless, tears in the process.
"Why not?" One of the others from the table - a tall well-built male with pale blond hair asks. Walking up to take part in our little convo, he takes his place on my left.
Shrugging pathetically, I stare at him. "I-I just can't. I was lucky to get out when I did." And that was the truth.
"What are you running from?" The third guy, a chocolate skinned male with light brown eyes asks.
Turning around, I noticed the three of them are now effectively blocking my path to the great outdoors. They have me trapped and I am beginning to feel a little uneasy.
*I'm a stranger in a bar, with four muscle bound meatheads. None of which I know. Mama would be so proud.*
I decide a little more of the truth can't hurt. "My stepfather." And his son - I leave out.
Mister Ponytail's dark gray eyes light with fire. The chiseled muscles of his well-shaven jaw clenching. "Stepfather?" He chuckles. "How old are you, twelve? Where's your mom?"
I lift my chin in defiance. These idiots don't deserve to know a damn thing about my mother. "She's dead. Now, if you'll please excuse me, I'll be on my way."
But they don't move.
*That's it, where did I stash my mace?*
"Domonic," Bartlett reasons. "Let the poor girl through."
Mister Ponytail shakes his head just barely. I hear Bartlett sigh in exasperation behind me and I tense for whatever might come next.
*So that's his name, huh? Domonic. Figures that even his name is sexy.*
Looking down at me, Domonic's brow furrows. "What does your stepfather want with you? You're clearly old enough to live your own life."
I glare at him, putting as much ice in my green eyes as I can muster. "Not your business, now please move."
Instead of granting me access to the outside the way I want him to, he places both arms out to grip the counter behind me. Now caging me in, are a pair of the sexiest forearms that I have ever had the pleasure of looking upon. The golden tan of his skin flexes with muscle and I follow each line of them up over his biceps to his strong wide shoulders. A hint of blue-black ink peeks out at me from the collar of his t-shirt and I shudder. The image of his smooth naked skin draped in tattoos, causing my insides to boil and my brain to fizz out.
Bringing my eyes further upward, I give him a pleading look. Trying for the apologetic high road. "I'm sorry I came here and interrupted - whatever - little meeting you guys had going here. I'm sorry I wasted Bartlett's time by lying on the application. I honestly came here in hopes of a fresh start. Apparently, I chose the wrong town. So please, Domonic, get out of my way."
His muscles flex again with my use of his name, but he still didn't move - just stared down at me.
*This shit is getting weirder by the second and now all I want to do is leave.*
I decide to insult him - *because clearly, that's what's gonna fix things* and I say, "Do you want to hurt me, Domonic? Is that why you won't move?"
His body jerks as if I just slapped him and he releases the counter to take a large step back. Shaking his head, he sneers down at me. "Come on boys," he says to his friends. "Let's get out of here." Then, looking back at me with the strangest sort of sadness in his eyes, he says, "The last train out leaves in an hour. If I were you, I would be on it."
*Well you're not me, asshole!*
Then, just like that, the three of them leave.
I let my breath out in a whoosh and speak without turning around. "Thanks anyway, Bart."
I've taken two measly steps when I hear him shout, "Wait a minute."
I grin to myself before schooling my features and facing him with the look of a desperate orphan. "Yeah?"
Closing his eyes briefly, he curses at himself. "I'm probably gonna get my ass kicked for this but what the hell?" He smiles at me, his eyes flashing with amusement. "I happen to have an opening for a sexy bartender, and a vacant apartment upstairs. The rent is real, real, cheap."
My mouth curves upward in a wicked smile, excitement bubbling in my chest. "How cheap?" I tease, playing along.
He laughs, nodding at me as if to say that I played my hand well. "Practically free."

###>>>
Chapter Three

**DOMONIC**
There is something disturbingly wrong with me today and although I don't want to admit it, I know what it is.
The girl. Not the one presently kneeling in front of me as she expertly sucks my dick.
But the one from this afternoon. The one from the bar.
Draven.
An image of her long black hair and bright green eyes fills my vision and suddenly, my chest is aching again. The way she looked at me - the pleading in her gaze, then the disappointment in her eyes when I told her she had to leave - has me haunted. Leaving me with a burn in my chest that feels like my heart might explode.
I'm done with this bitch in front of me. Try as I might, I'm just not into her anymore. I guess I never really was. But now, since meeting *Draven*, I can't even pretend to be.
First, Margo looks nothing like Draven, and suddenly, that fiery girl that I just sent out on the train is the only woman I want on my dick.
*Fuck!*
"Get up," I hiss, and she smiles. Lifting off her knees and reaching for my neck. I shake her off, "No. Don't touch me. I'm not in the mood."
She jerks back, her blond hair swinging with her breasts as she shakes her head at me. "What is the matter with you baby? You've been acting funny all day."
I roll my eyes and head for my bathroom to clean her mouth off my cock. "It's nothing," I say, rubbing at my chest and the bruising ache there. 
*It's not nothing. But it will be soon enough.*
Staring at myself in the mirror, I'm ashamed. I'm probably never gonna see her again. That girl. I'll never know any more about her than I did today. I won't get to feel that pull I felt earlier either. The way every hair on my body stood up when she entered the bar and the wolf inside of me purred as the world fell away at my feet.
When I was growing up, my mother always told me that one day she would find me... my mate. Mom said that when it happened no one else would matter for me, but her. Then mom would pretend to be jealous of the imaginary human just to hold me in her arms and make me promise to *never* to grow up. I guess I never believed it could really happen. 
But it did today.
*Relax. She's gone. It will get easier.*
It had better.
"Hey Dom! I was talking to you," Margo snaps, stepping into the reflection of my mirror, her large breasts still unbound and heaving with sexual energy. "I want you inside me. Please?" She reached for me and I grab her hands in mine, forcing a smile on my face.
"Later," I say, then I zip up my pants and step around her. "Take a shower. Let's head to the bar. I need to talk to Bartlett about a few things."
She pouts, her thin lips flattening out in a way she thinks is sexy. "Really?"
"Now," I snap before heading down the stairs.
Maybe if I see for myself that Draven is gone, this fucking ache in my chest might go away.
Then again... it might just get worse.
**DRAVEN**
My first evening as a 'sexy bartender' was due to start any minute. After a quick and pleasant tour of the establishment as well as the apartment above it, Bart left me to prepare for the night ahead.
I only had a few items in my backpack, so settling in took all of ten minutes. Once I was freshly showered, I brushed the tangles out of my long black hair and decided to leave it down to sway past my ass. It fell straight and shiny without even the possibility of curl, but I usually wore it braided and wrapped into a tight bun. A habit I developed to keep it from being easily grabbed. Now that I was free, I could wear it any way I wanted to, and that fact alone was enough to put a satisfied smile on my face.
Donning a pair of distressed jeans and a tight long-sleeved black turtleneck, much like the white one I arrived in, I smile at my reflection. Despite the bags under my sparkling green gaze and the concave appearance of my 'too slim' waist, I look pretty damn good. I haven't eaten in days so after a few good meals, I'll be even hotter.
After applying some shimmering nude lip gloss to my naturally pouty lips and a two-brush coating of mascara over my long lashes, I am ready for work.
Tumbling down the back stairs with a spring in my step, I enter the kitchen to find Bart standing there with a tiny purple crop top in hand. The front of it reads 'The Moonlight Lounge' in the very same lettering as the sign out front, but in black.
*He wants me to wear that tiny thing, I just know it.*
Before he can hand it to me, his mouth falls open in shock and he whistles. "Damn girl. You clean up nice."
I blush, "Thanks. Um - I'm guessing you want me to wear that." I grimace, my teeth flashing with a tight open mouthed frown.
Bart grins, eyeing me suggestively. "Yup."
I begin to fiddle with the tips of my hair, as is my habit sometimes when I get nervous. "Can it wait until, say a week from now?"
His smile falters. "I would prefer it didn't, but I suppose it could. Any particular reason why? I think it'll look great on you."
Then, it is as if he takes note of the turtleneck I'm wearing and the nervousness in my eyes. "Let me see," he requests.
I shake my head tightly but relent when he just stands there staring at me and refusing to move. Rolling up the sleeve of one arm, I showed him the latest of the fingerprint bruises that color my forearm.
Sucking in a sharp hissing breath, his face goes momentarily red with anger. "I'm guessing that's not the worst one."
"It's not," I admit, pulling my shirt up to just below my breasts and turning around. I allow him a moment to view the ones on my back as well.
"Holy fucking shit," he bellows. "Your stepfather did that to you?"
I turn back around, smoothing my top back into place. "He did." Then deciding a bit more honesty can only help secure my place here, I add, "And his son did too."
The truth is always hard to get out. 
"His son?" Bart growls out. "how fucking old is the little bastard?"
"My age."
	At that point, I know, I've just solidified my position here and the situation being what it is - refused to allow my using my trauma to gain sympathy, to make me feel bad. 
*If anything I deserve to use it for whatever the fuck I can!*
Bart was fairly shaking with rage and as he has only just met me, I didn't exactly understand the strength behind it. He looks ready to kill.
*Maybe he has a thing for me.*
"When you asked me where the strip club was-"
"I wasn't trying to make you feel guilty," I sigh. Haha - well maybe I was... "I really would have gone there to apply. Just not right away. Can I wear the top over this, just until-"
"Of course," he interrupts, tossing the shirt at me so that I can pull it over my head. "And Draven, if you ever want to talk about it..."
	I smile, nodding. But I know I never will. "Thanks, Bart."
"Bartlett," he corrects me.
"Bart," I wink, swaying my hips as I saunter past him into the bar proper.
The first couple hours go swimmingly well. I used to work at a club on Beach Avenue in Miami and the bartenders there were wildly competitive, so I know how to draw in a crowd. It doesn't hurt that the place is packed with eligible young men as well. All of them vying for the attention of the new treat behind the bar.
I am in the middle of sloshing together a Moscow Mule for a hot brunette in a business suit, when the doors to the bar open and a tall, blond 'barbie' enters on the arm of the prick from this afternoon.
Domonic.
His eyes catch mine immediately and the air seems to sizzle between us. A hot spark of jealousy takes over for a second and I snap my stirring stick. Watching Barbie's hand glide over Domonic's chest, I groan and switch out my stick, just glad I didn't cut my hand.
*Bitch.*
I shake myself, knowing the absurd thought has nothing to do with the girl and everything to do with her date.
*Screw that handsome son-of-a-bitch.*
But for some reason, I can't squelch the ache in my chest that throbs upon my first sight of them together.
"Here you go honey," I say, serving Mister Hottie in the three-piece suit and accepting the twenty-dollar tip complete with a phone number that he slips inside my palm.
Glancing back up, I see that Domonic and his date have taken a seat in the back corner. The same table he and his friends had been at earlier today.
Noticing me looking at him, his fists clench on the table and his muscles flex beneath his shirt. Barbie purrs something into his ear, and he shoves her off of him, snapping something at her that I can't hear over the noise of the crowded bar.
I clamp my lips together, hiding a smile and looking away to serve, yet another, hottie in a three-piece suit.
I have to wonder, does Barbie work at his club? She definitely fit the type. I have a pretty nice set up top, but they're not nearly as back breaking as hers are.
Maybe that's what he meant when he said I 'don't have what it takes'.
A line was starting to form behind the patrons seated at the bar, so I shed all thoughts of Domonic for the next few minutes and concentrated on my job.
Bart slides up behind me and whispers, "You're doing awesome kiddo. Keep it up."
I laugh, glaring back at him. "Kiddo? You can't be too much older than me, Bart."
He winks, "I'm probably not, but if you insist on butchering my name the way you do, I will insist on calling you kiddo."
"Deal," I grin, losing my smile when I see who is next in line. "What can I get ya?"
"You seem to have missed your train," Domonic says coldly.

###>>>
Chapter Four

**DRAVEN**
"I didn't miss anything," I say with a roll of my eyes. Glancing around him at the back table, I can see Barbie staring at us with daggers in her eyes. "Your date looks thirsty," I quip. "So, what can I get you?"
He glares, shoving himself forward to lean across the bar. 
	*God he looks good in that tight white shirt.*
"What did that Armani Moron give you?" He hisses at me, eyeing the small bulge in my pants' pocket.
At first, I am a little confused, then I realize he is referring to Mister Hottie in the three-piece. "A twenty," I answer, not really sure why. I don't owe this fool any explanations.
His jaw clenches before he smiks. A deep dimple forming in one cheek. "What else?"
My eyes narrow at him, my gaze stuttering on the impatient line of patrons behind him. "Do you want something or not?"
"What else did he give you?" He asks again.
*He couldn't possibly have noticed the little folded paper with the phone number on it, right?*
"His number," I say to him softly as his silver eyes fall toward my lips.
He jerks backward, still staring at my mouth. "One hard lemonade and two shots of Jack," he says. Then ripping his eyes to the left, he glares at Mister Hottie's table.
"Coming right up," I say, turning around to grab the ingredients.
I can feel him watching me and I do my best to focus. It was all I could do to keep my momentum going and not spill anything with the fire of his eyes on my back.
"Let me have it," Domonic commands from behind me, causing me to laugh as I mix lemon syrup and vodka in a hot glass from under the shelf.
"I'm not done making it," I snipe, turning back around.
He grins at me, going full dimple and swiping two fingers over his chin. Then, giving me a stupidly sexy look, he says, "I'm talking about the guy's phone number. Not the drinks."
I dite down slightly on my tongue to stop myself from bursting into giggles. "No," I say smoothly, presenting him with his order. "Besides, his is only one of many." And it's the truth. In just the few hours since we'd opened, I've already made four hundred in tips and collected twelve different phone numbers. Ten from men and two from women.
Domonic glares at his drinks, shaking himself for a moment before taking them off the counter. "Have Bart meet me in the back room." He slaps a hundred on the table - no number. "Keep the change," he says.
*Make that four hundred-seventy-five.*
Then, without another word, he heads back to Barbie. Sliding back into his seat, I notice he was still staring at me as I charm my way through the next five patrons. In fact, each time I look up I am met with his heavy lidded gaze. But the dimples are gone. It seems the smile from before was given only so that I might grant him what he wanted.
*But damn that smile is fire.*
Bart slides up next to me so suddenly, I have to suppress a scream. "You scared me," I snap, slapping his wrist.
He giggles, "Am I that hard to look at?"
"No," I roll my eyes. "Your friend wants to see you in the back room."
"My friend?"
"Me," Domonic says, startling me and causing me to jump.
Bart catches my eye and we share a look. "Sure, thing Domonic."
I watch as the two of them disappear down the hall toward the restrooms and into the office in the back. Seeing that they left the door slightly ajar, I scan the action around me. Satisfied that a moment away won't be too terrible, I make my way toward where they disappeared.
As carefully as possible, I station myself between stacks of boxes just outside of the office door and listen.
"What the hell is she still doing here Bartlett?"
"Bartending. What does it look like?"
"You know I want her gone."
"I know what you said. I remember. What's the big deal? She needed help and I gave it to her."
"We don't need any strangers around here who can't contribute."
"Hey now, she is contributing. Just look out front. The place is packed."
"I'm aware."
"Not only is she gorgeous, but she's really good. So, what's the problem? What's really going on?"
"I'll give you one last chance to get rid of her."
"What the fuck man? What exactly is your problem with her? She's a sweet girl!"
"She's a smartass and she doesn't belong here."
"Really? Okay, I see. I'll send the poor girl on her way then. Maybe her stepdaddy will find her and put a few more bruises on her body. Or maybe his son will. That might make you might feel a bit better."
I tense, cursing myslef for not swearing Bart to secrecy when I showed him my marks.
"What? What the fuck are you saying?"
"I'm saying - the men that she's running from aren't your everyday stepfather and son. She didn't leave them because of some silly disagreement, or because she's spoiled, or because she didn't get her way. She left them because they were abusing her! I saw the fruits of their labor all over her body today."
A small crash sounds followed by the thud of someone hitting the wall. Even the boxes shudder around me. "You what? You saw her? You-"
"Chill Dom! It's not like that so let me go!"
"No, I won't! Tell me, what is it like then, huh? Did you touch her?" Another thud. "I swear to God, if you-"
"I haven't touched her! So let me go."
A pause.
"Start talking before I rip your throat out."
"I gave her the t-shirt to wear for work today and, she asked if she had to wear it today. She wanted to know if she could wait. So, I asked her why and- she showed me. I saw her bruises, Domonic. Her backside-"
"Her backside?" Domonic's deep humorless chuckle fills the hall. "You've got to be kidding me. Her *backside*, seriously? What the fuck?"
"Not her naked backside asshole - her back. And... her arms. They're covered in handprint bruises and-"
Glass shatters. "Enough! I don't want to hear anymore of it."
Another pause.
"They were bad, Dom-"
More glass and the unmistakable sound of something being kicked across the room.
"I said shut the fuck up! It makes no difference. She still can't be here."
*God, I hate that jerk!*
"Fine. You're the boss, so if you want her gone then I'll send her packing. Maybe she'll die out there and you won't have to worry about her ever coming back. And if she does die - and everybody else figures out who she is the way that I just did - no one will ever forgive you."
*Who she is? I am nobody. What the hell does he mean?*
At that moment footsteps sound, heading my way and I duck further behind the boxes to remain out of sight. Bartlett exits first, walking right past me and toward the front of the bar. But Domonic, the moment he steps through the threshold, he stops.
I hold my breath, urging myself to keep perfectly still, and remain completely out of sight. One minute passes. Then two. Letting my breath out slowly, I peek around the largest box, surprised when I see the hall empty.
*That man moves like a damned jungle cat!*
I didn't even hear him leave.

###>>>
Chapter Five

**DRAVEN**
I scramble toward the other side of the hall so that it will look as if I am coming back from the restroom. Walking back toward the bar I am met with Bart's sad, heavy eyes.
In an attempt to pretend I have no idea what is going on, I smile as brightly as my disappointed heart will allow. "What's wrong boss?"
"Um, Draven - I have to-" he cuts off as someone approaches from behind me.
*Gee lemme guess who it is. Eyeroll.*
I could be deaf and blind, and I would still know who stood behind me. His heat is pressing against my back again and the hairs on my neck are standing at attention.
*If I lean back, just a bit... my ass will push right against his...*
*No Draven no!*
"Bartlett has to renovate the upstairs apartment - so you'll have to stay somewhere else until it's complete," Domonic's low voice interrupts.
*What's this now?*
"Somewhere else?" My questioning eyes meet Bart's and he shrugs. "Where else?"
Knowing what I do - which is that Domonic is lying - sparks an anger in me and I spin on him with a glare.
He is smirking, that sweet dimple winking enough to make my panties damp. "I can set you up in a place, a small condo at the top of the hill."
"No thanks. I can't afford it," I say evenly, pushing my back against the counter to create distance between us. He is much too close. The mouthwatering smell of him is making me dizzy.
"You can afford it." His jaw tightens and he glares down at me. "You won't have to pay rent, because I own it."
My eyes narrow and I tilt my head at him reproachfully.
*I can't let him know that I was listening to their conversation.*
"I don't want anything from you," I growl.
He hisses, a muscle in his jaw ticking. Placing his hands on the bar on both sides of me, he cages me in yet again. Pushing in closer, so that we are a mere few inches away from each other, he replies, "Then you'll stay with me. At my house."
I hear Bart drop a glass behind the bar and curse.
I scoff, "With you? At your house?" Well, if *that* didn't spark a fit of giggles."I'd rather sleep *on* the bar or at the train station," I retort. "No thanks."
Suddenly he dips his head forward and I freeze. His nose shifts into the long back tendrils of my hair, and his lips barely graze my cheek on their way to my ear. I have to force myself to stand my ground although my instincts have me reeling backward. His breath warms my neck, and I could swear I hear the beginnings of a groan. He whispers, "Then, either you take the condo, or you take the train out. What's it gonna be?"
My heart begins to hammer in my chest with his closeness. The delicious pine scent of his aftershave filtering through my senses and causing me to tremble within. I can feel his arms closing in on each side of my frame. As if he is inching them closed around me, one tiny millimeter at a time. Electricity sparks when he presses himself closer to my chest. So strongly that I'm surprised it doesn't crackle.
I open my mouth to speak, but the words catch in my throat as I feel the soft brush of his teeth upon my earlobe.
*Oh God. What the fuck is he doing?*
He whispers gently, "Please. Just until we can reinforce the security in your apartment."
Then pulling back, he meets my eyes directly, nodding at me while I stand there panting for breath.
My gaze narrows at him, and he smirks, crossing his arms over his chest.
*Son-of-a-bitch! He did all that shit on purpose. He was just winding me up.*
*He knows! He must have seen me hiding back there. That's why he stopped in the hall.*
"Fine," I bite out, poking him in the chest sharply. "But I get to keep my job."
Domonic scowls at me. His eyes floating up and back toward where Bart stands on the other side of the counter. “That’s not necessary, because like I said, I will not be charging you rent.”
I laugh - this asshole really is something else. “It is necessary because I will be paying you back,” I snap.
“Paying him back for what?” A thick velvety voice sounds from Domonic’s side and I know without looking that it's Barbie.
Domonic visibly tenses as she places an artfully manicured hand on his arm. Now that I am face to face with her, she doesn’t look nearly as cute as I first thought. Her face is coated in an inch of make-up and her eyes are too close together, strangling the bridge of her pointy little nose. She does have nice tits though. The bitch. But one glance down tells me that is all she has. Her hips are non-existent.
Dead blue eyes find mine and she snarls, “I asked you a question.”
*She’s taller than me.*
*But I can take her.*
I smile, nice and bright, then turn my attention back to Domonic. “Can you walk your skank back to your table please?”
"Skank?!" She fumes.
Bart howls behind me, his laughter adding another measure of joy to my smile.
“Margo, this is none of your business. Go and get in the car. We’re leaving.” Domonic says blandly.
*Margo huh? Bleh. Boring...*
Margo stomps one foot then spins around, making her way toward the door. She is sure to send me one more bitch face before her exit though, and for that I am grateful.
*Cunt*.
Domonic, massages his temple. “As I was saying, you won’t be needing this job.”
I propped one finger under my chin as if I were deep in thought. “Well, then no deal. Because I like this job and you aren’t going to keep me from it.”
He glares at me, then chuckles darkly. “Fine. You can keep the job, but just so you know, the condo is four miles up the hill. So, if you insist on keeping it, you will be spending a good amount of time walking.”
“I like walking,” I say, and it's true, I do. “It's great for my ass," I supply. "Sounds like fun.”
Again, he clenches his teeth. Eyes going heavy as they trace over my hips. “You aren’t going to be walking four miles every night at two in the morning.”
“I can drive her home,” Bart offers.
I smirk, “There. You see? Bart will drive me.”
Domonic nods, eyeing Bart as he turns to leave. “I’ll see you both at the condo tonight then.”
“Can’t you just give me the key now? I'd hate to infringe on your hoe-down."
He ignores me, chuckling as he leaves.
*I must be crazy. I don’t even like this guy! He could be a serial killer for all I know.*
As if Bart is reading my mind, he says, “Don’t worry, kiddo. Domonic’s an asshole, yeah, but he’s a good guy too.”
“Says you.”
By the time Bart closes up and I've repacked my backpack, it is thirty minutes past two in the morning. We get into his truck and head into the thick fog of the surrounding streets. There aren’t many cars left on the road and the limited street lighting only adds to the eerie atmosphere. The moon is only a quarter in and partially cloaked, so my view of the landscape around me is suppressed. On our way up the steepest of hills, I glance at Bart.
“How far do you live from the condo?”
He smiles teasingly, “I only live a block over. Why? You scared?”
“Not scared exactly. Just... wary.”
He sighs, reaching an arm over to pull me in for a friendly side hug. “We’re mostly good people out here, Draven. After you’ve been here awhile, you’ll see that. Besides, it’s not like you’ll be alone on the property.”
“The property?”
He laughs. “The condo sits on the landlord’s property. I guess you could say it’s more of a guest house.”
*Guest house?*
*Domonic’s guest house?*
“And my landlord is...” I say just as we pull past a modern gate surrounded by evergreen trees. “Domonic,” I hiss, seeing him standing outside of a large modern looking home that appears to be wall to wall glass.
I roll down the window as the truck idles next to him. He is wearing gray sweatpants and a matching hoodie. And... he looked delicious.
“Where the fuck have you two been?” He snaps angrily, “I’ve been waiting out here for forty-five minutes.”
“I had to close up, man. And Draven had to pack her things.”
Domonic eyes the two of us suspiciously before rolling his gaze heavenward and gesturing for Bart to continue down the driveway.
As we pass the main house, I take in all of its features. I can literally see the kitchen, living room, and dining room through the spotless glass walls. The sports network is playing on a seventy-five-inch flat screen inside and the picture is so good I feel like I am in the room for a second. The modern decor is done in browns and whites, everything in the place looking expressively expensive. Suddenly, I am afraid of what I might see through those glass walls.
*Where’s his girl? Margo.*
*I do not want front row seats to Fifty Shades of Slut!*
Turning back to the driveway and away from the house, I see it. The ‘condo’. It looks like a miniature of the main house but with less windows on the second floor.
“Oh. My. God,” I say quietly as we pull up and the porch light goes on. “I-I can’t afford this!”
Bart laughs heartily, cutting off the engine. “Rent free, remember?”
“But I don’t want it to be free! I want to pay him back!”
“Well then, pay him back.”
“But!” I snap through clenched teeth. “I cannot afford this!”
Just then, the passenger door opens and Domonic is invading our space. I eye him warily. “You live here.” It's not a question, but he nods, his eyes on Bart.
“You two are sitting awfully close together.” The unmistakable rumble of a barely perceptible growl fills the air. One much like I heard the first day I stepped into the bar.
How very strange...
My lip lifts in annoyance and I slowly turn in my seat to plant a very thankful, very wet, kiss on Bart’s cheek. “Thank you,” I whisper, smiling when Bart looks like he can’t breathe. “See you tomorrow boss.”

###>>>
Chapter Six

**DRAVEN**
A hand clamps over my arm and I am ripped from the truck. "Bye!" Domonic snaps toward Bart before slamming the truck door shut. Bart reverses out of the driveway like his life depends on it and I scowl up at Domonic.
Shaking his hand off my arm, I ask, "What the fuck is your problem?"
He is seething. Staring at me like I'm was some ming of treacherous skank. You'd think I'd just murdered his puppy or something.
"You kissed him," he says, in a cold emotionless voice.
I snorted. For real? "Um yeah. I did. So what? He's my friend and if it weren't for him, I'd be in a crappy motel somewhere waiting to die."
*Bart's the only one I should be kissing!*
Domonic scoffs, his gray eyes going dark with contempt. "He's your friend? You don't even know him."
"Did you offer this place to me just so that you could get me alone and spout your hate for me?" I glare, shaking my head at his audacity. "I don't know you either, yet here we are." It's dreezing cold and I am out here shivering so this idiot can sneer down at me. "Are we going inside, or what?" I challenge.
His eyes sparkle, loing from ice to fire in the space of an instant. "We?" He smirks suggestively, taking a step closer to me on the porch and allowing his eyes to fall in a steady rove down my body.
My cheeks heat. The skin going white hot at the feel of his eyes on me. I take a step back. "I assume you're going to show me the place."
He sighs, his cool gray gaze touching over my hair for a second before he pulls a key from his pocket. "Here. Everything works and it's all top of the line. Breakfast is at nine a.m. sharp. Don't be late."
Then he spins around to head toward his backdoor, where coincidently, Margo is waiting for him dressed in nothing but a long silk robe.
*Disgusting*.
Anger nips at my nerves. I curse at myself for allowing him to flirt the way he did a moment ago. "I'm not having breakfast with you and your girlfriend," I say and then turn around to unlock the door.
The key slides in smoothly and once the door is open and I step inside, the front hall floods with soft light.
*Nice*.
Turning around to shut the door I scream. Domonic stands in the entryway behind me. I didn't even hear him come up.
He grins, shutting the door behind him and stalking toward me slowly. "She's not my girlfriend and I was just about to take her home," he informs me, in a low, seductive voice. One that has my breath coming in a bit faster than before. 
"Oh," I hiss, walking backward, farther and farther until I hit the soft leather sofa with the backs of my jean clad legs. "I don't care," I lie.
He continues walking toward me, jaw clenching in annoyance before he stops, leaving about six inches of space between us. His face turns serious. Gazing around with his hands in his pockets, he says, "I know it's a lot of windows, but if you flip the switch on the wall, the shades close over."
I nod, dropping my backpack on the sofa. "Nice to know. You may leave now," I breathe out.
He clears his throat, eyes flicking around slowly, but he doesn't move to leave. "You don't have a thing for Bartlett, do you?"
I was about to say something mean and suggestive, but the look in his eyes stops me. He appears unsure of himself, even a bit nervous. It was almost cute. Shit. It was more than cute.
"No, I do not have a thing for Bart," I answer softly, my shoulders relaxing against the heat coming off of his body.
His shifts his feet gaining another inch in my direction. A half smile dimpling one cheek, he gazes down at me. The warm yellow of the room making his eyes a little more golden then gray. "Okay then," he sighs, walking backward toward the front door. "Remember, nine a.m. sharp. If you make me come and get you, I'll be naked."
I do not respond at all.
*In that case, I might just be late on purpose.*
*Don't treaten me buddy.*
Once he reaches the door he spins around and exits without looking back. I waste no time locking up behind him before flipping the switch to shade all the windows as well.
Then turning around and facing the kitchen, I decide to see what is in the fridge. To my surprise, it is in fact fully stocked and on the shelf is a plate covered in plastic wrap. A little note is taped to the front that has me smiiling like a damn fool.
The note reads:
You missed dinner.
Grinning from ear to ear like an idiot, I gaze longingly at the front door. Then, with a bite of my lip, I pull the plate out and pop it in the microwave.
Maybe... he's not so bad after all.
*Maybe... life here is actually gonna work.*
**DOMONIC**
I have been watching her sleep for an hour already and still can't seem to force myself out the door. As I suspected, she closed off all the windows in the condo. So instead of watching her from my bedroom the way I wanted to, I had to sneak into the place like a creep.
*Now, I can't tear my eyes away from her.*
Bartlett was right. She is covered in bruises. Her arms, her shoulders, her neck. And not the kind of bruises from ordinary abuse. No. These are forceful bruises. The kind that come from being grabbed - or - being held down against your will.
I shouldn’t have snuck in here, but I wanted to see them for myself. I *needed* to see them.
I don't like it - the way I'm feeling is dangerous. I don't completely blame Bartlett for going against my orders to get rid of her, but only because of her circumstances. And in that same respect, I had to make sure that I was the one responsible for her safety.
*If that responsibility belongs to anyone, it belongs to me.*
I admit that ache of longing that was thrumming with pain the whole day through had only gotten worse before I arrived back at the bar tonight. I was prepared to deal with it though, at least, I'd hoped to. So, when I went I saw that she was in fact *still* there and hadn't left - I was pissed. But... I was also relieved. Because the pressure in my chest seemed to morph into more of a sting of pleasure than an ache of pain from the very moment I caught sight of her behind the bar.
With a soft sigh, she shifts in her sleep, turning over to stretch one leg onto the outside of the blanket. My body begins to pound with anger at the sight of what marrs her beautiful skin and where it does.
*Someone hurt her badly and I need to get out of here or I am going to lose it.*
As stealthily as I can manage, I cover her up and before I can stop myself, trace my fingers over her soft lips.
"I don't want you here," I whisper. "But I can't let you leave either. At least, not yet."
First, I have to eliminate the threat to her survival. Then, I will let her go. I will have to.
Like a shadow in the night, I melt back into the darkness, taking one last look at her perfect face. Then I exit the condo and head back into my house, knowing I won't be able to sleep for the rest of the night.
*She's too close, but at the same time, not close enough.*
How did her mother die?
I need to find out all I can about her. I want to know where she came from. I need to know who her stepfather is, what he did to her, and why.
Texting Rainier, I tell him to meet me at the club at noon tomorrow. I'll have him get to work on finding out exactly who Miss Draven Piccoli is. I'll need all of this handled before the next full moon.
Glancing at the clock on the mantle, I see it is already five a.m.  I glare at my bed and the body that lay there. Margo is nothing compared to the sexy black-haired beauty that has disturbingly stepped into my life. 
*To think, just yesterday I was fucking Margo right here in this very room.*
Now, just the memory of it is enough to make my insides curl.
*I'm not going to lay with her. I can't.*
Staring down at my phone I schedule the earliest ride I can find to send Margo home. Then with a shrug, I flip the switch to open the shades of all the windows of my room. I could try and tell myself that I did it to keep watch over the condo from my room, but that would be a lie.
I did it because I didn't want Draven to look over here and wonder if I might be fucking Margo.
I want the girl that I refuse to keep to know there is no one else but her.
*God, I am dumb.*
*Guess I should start making breakfast.*

###>>>
Chapter Seven

**DRAVEN**
I wake up not really knowing where I am. The bed beneath me is so soft I honestly wonder if I might be asleep at all. Maybe I'm not asleep, maybe I am  dead and in heaven.
But then the doorbell rings. 
*Did I have plans this morning? I think I did. I'm almost sure I did...but what?*
I open my eyes. "Shit! What time is it?!"
The doorbell sounds again, and I fall out of bed reaching for the things I wore yesterday. "Fuck! I'm coming! Hold the hell on!"
Stumbling down the stairs in my dirty clothes, I flip the switch allowing the shades to reveal the heavy fog of morning crowding the yard. The sight brings a contented smile to my face.
*Wow...it really is beautiful here.*
*Ding dong!!!!*
"Jesus!" I screech, opening the door. "The fuck is your deal?"
He stands there looking sexy as hell, the hint of a smile on his face. "I told you nine a.m. sharp."
Domonic.
Of course. I forgot all about the breakfast appointment.
"I'm not late," I tell him smoothly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and flipping him off.
He chuckles, his bright silver gaze sparkling with amusement. "You are late. It's ten in the morning. There's an alarm clock on your nightstand. Use it."
"For what?" I counter, crossing my arms over my chest and trying not to notice how crisp and fuckable he looks in white sweats and a stark white tank top.
*Fuck. His tattoos are showing. And his muscles. And I want to put my mouth on each and every one. Holy bejesus...*
But then... his perfume wafts toward me and I nearly vomit!!! 
*Fucking Margo. I can smell her all over him. Gross.*
Suddenly I'm angry. I can't explain why, nor do I have the right to be, but I am. 
"I didn’t want to get up. I wanted to roll around for a few more minutes laughing because, I got what I wanted and then some."
His eyes narrow and his smile disappears. "You got what you wanted. Which was?"
I scoff. "Not you. So, bye!" My attempt to shut the door in his face is thwarted by a bright white Nike sneaker. I nearly lose my shit. "Whatttt?"
"Hey now, calm down! Wait a minute! I told you we were going to have breakfast, and we are."
I grace him with a sweet saccharine grin."No. We're not. Have breakfast with Margo instead."
One arched eye brow lifts in amusment. A half smile quirking up as he wets his lips. "Margo is gone."
I laugh, "Oh yeah? Did she mark you first? Ha!"
"What?" He startles as I throw him a sarcastic frown. His face looks so frighteneed for a second that I almost laugh.
"What do you mean, what?" I chortle, cocking my head at him warily. Then with a roll of my eyes, I say, "When did she leave? "
*Stupid questions get stupid answers, Draven!*
He ticks his jaw, casting his eyes downward as if ashamed. "This morning."
"I thought you said you were taking her home, last night," I quip at him and slanting my eyes as I push the door closed, just slightly.
He scratches the back of his neck nervously, glancing left and right as if someone might jump in and save him from my wrath. "I was going to but I-," he stops, crossing his arms over his chest and idadvertanlty making his pectorals more prominently visible. His face turns indignant, " -wait a minute, I don't have to answer to you."
"No, you don't, I agree," I chirp sweetly, flashing him my cockiest smile. "And I do not have to have breakfast with you." I attempt to close the door, but he pushes inside, and I throw my hands up in frustration. "Really?" I snap, stomping my foot in annoyance. "You're just going to push yourself inside? You see? This is why I want to pay rent! So that I don't have to let you in here and I don't have to be nice to you." I grant him a withering look. "You need to leave."
Turning to face me, his eyes are shing with perverse pleasure. "You're jealous," he accuses, rotating his shoulders and sizing me up as he steps closer with me.
I giggle, dropping myself down on the couch with a laugh. "No. I'm not jealous. I just don't like you or your bitch. I never intended to come to breakfast," I lie. I was going to, but now that I know she only just left, I'm glad I slept in.
He seems to argue with himself about something, his eyes ticking back and forth as if he doesn't know what else to say. They finally fall on me and he swallows thickly. "I didn't fuck her this time."
"This time?" I laugh again. "Now I can die happy, thanks for letting me know." I roll my eyes. "I don't care if you fucked her or not, you reek of her perfume and I am extremely allergic to the scent of Average Cunt, so if you don't mind..."
He stares at me, his hands clasped behind his back like an army soldier. Eyes growing heavy as he watches me, going hot with an emotion I can't quite decipher. I am suddenly extremely bothered by my appearance. Because I'm still wearing yesterday's clothes.
*I need to take my tip money and go shopping today. I need more clothes.*
Domonic's brows lower, and his voice comes out somewhat strained, "I didn't take her home last night because I didn't want to leave you here unprotected. So, when morning came, I had her picked up."
"Unprotected?" I stand up slowly, then walk toward him ignoring the electric thrum of energy I can feel when I get close to him. I know I should be pleased with his explanation, but somehow, I'm not. "You knew I was eaves dropping last night, didn't you?"
He nods. "Yes."
I am surprised by the sudden anger that erupts in me. "So then, that's why you suddenly want to take care of me. Now I'm suddenly worthy of your trouble. But before you knew about my-" I stop myself, clamping my eyes shut for a second before continuing, "-problem... I wasn't good enough for you or your town. Before you knew - you were good with being rid of me. "
He winces then shakes his head in denial. "I wasn't *good* with it. I was trying to be," he mumbles almost too low for my ears. "But before I knew about your problem, I could have let you leave without feeling responsible. Now that I do know, you can't leave until I know that you'll be safe."
"Oh, is that right?" I start laughing. This asshole has some nerve, "And who the fuck do you think you are? You don't owe me anything! Newsflash, I might never be safe. So don't come over here trying to play the nice guy now that you pity me. I'm good, I don't need your protection nor your breakfast."
He glares. "Fine." Turning to leave he snaps, "I just thought we could get to know each other a little bit but fuck it."
"Bye!" I say loudly, feeling slightly guilty. I mean, this is a really nice place, and I am pretty hungry. What does it matter if he'd only helping me because of the bruises? At least he *is* helping me.
*Fuck I'm an idiot!*
Jumping from the sofa I start after him. "Wait!"

###>>>
Chapter Eight

**DRAVEN**
He freezes halfway out the door. Turning slightly toward me, his face is a mask of apprehension. "Yes?" 
Studying him, I think I may be making a mistake. He's too damn handsome for his own good. And the energy I feel whenever he is near me is anything but safe. But I just can't help but *want* to be near him. And whether he admits it or not, I think his reasons for helping me might be more than he lets on.
"I'll have breakfast with you, but you need to bring it over here, because I want to shower first."
When he raises his eyes to look at me fully, he bites his bottom lip and I think for a minute that he is going to tell me to fuck off, but he doesn't. Instead, he gives me the sexiest smile I have ever seen. "Done."
*Jesus. It can't be right for my panties to be soaked this early in the morning.*
After he leaves, I hightail it upstairs and strip out of yesterday's clothes. Once in the shower I could swear I hear the front door open and shut, but I ignor it thinking Domonic probably let himself in to set up breakfast.
As I rinse my hair out for the final time, a shadow passes over the wall in front of me and I spin around - a scream lodged in the back of my throat. But there is absolutely no one there. The bathroom door is still closed, and steam is still heavy in the air, so I know no one has opened it.
"I am such a pussy sometimes," I say to myself before wrapping in a towel and stepping back into the bedroom.
Pulling on my last set of clean jeans, I opt for a tight white tank top to wear under my lavender hoodie. The turtlenecks I brought with me are all dirty now and when I leave to go shopping, I'll just pull the hood on to cover my neck.
After brushing out my hair, I bound down the stairs to see that I was correct. Domonic has in fact let himself in and is now on the phone in the kitchen. He stills upon sight of me, and I can feel his eyes go straight to my exposed neck. I know what he sees there, but I ignore his shocked expression and sit down to eat.
There are scrambled eggs, orange slices, pastries, and sausages spread out before me, and I refuse to have it all ruined with strolls down memory lane.
"See you at twelve." Domonic says before hanging up the phone and taking a seat next to me. His eyes stay glued to my throat as I eat.
I try not to notice that the outer part of one of his powerful thighs is pressed against my knee under the table, but it is close to impossible to do, so instead I press back.
The instant flex of his leg on mine is heartstopping, especially when he doesn't pull away. On the contrary, he slides in a bit closer causing friction and heat where we touch. My eyes can't help but raise up to meet his and I force a smile. "Thank you. It's delicious."
He nods, reaching for a few orange slices then sucking them into his mouth. After a few moments of silence he says quietly, "What's his name?"
My brow furrows and I turn my attention back to my food. "What's whose name?"
He chuckles in a deep and sexy timbre that sets off every nerve center in my soul. "Your stepfather's name. Who else?"
I sigh, my body going stiff with irritation. "If you want to talk about him, then you might as well leave. He is a part of the life I left, not the one I am living. I don't care about prosecuting him, I don't care about getting even, I just want to forget. Understand?" I do my best to sound careless, even adding a small smile as I speak, but I can hear the pleading tremble in my voice and I'm sure he does as well.
*God I hate that monster.*
I glance at Domonic to find a sad, vulnerable, look in his eyes. His gray gaze is so troubled and so intense that I almost go ahead and tell him. Almost.
Instead, I decide a change of subject is in order. "I need to do some shopping. I don't have any clothes. Where might I find a boutique around here?"
His body tenses and he grumbles, "All the shops are on the main drag. I'm heading down there in half an hour. I'll take you."
I giggle, tossing a piece of pastry at his head. "I'll walk thanks."
"Please," he says, ignoring my jovial protest. Pushing back out of his chair to go and stand at the door, he coaxes, "I'm going that way anyway. I won't feel right about passing you on the street if you're walking. So, just let me. I'll drop you off, go take care of my business, then pick you up after."
I shrug as he prepares to leave. "Okay, I guess. But only because I have to work at five and I don't want to tire myself out first."
Smiling his gorgeous dimpled smile, he tilts his head upward. "Don't give me any ideas."
*More wetness. Lets add a few pairs of panties to that list. I'm probably gonna go through a few a day at this rate.*
I nod softly, my eyes glued to the shifting of the tendons in his incredibly lickable neck. "Okay."
Then he leaves and I watch through the windows as he walks back into his house.
"God, he has a nice ass," I say to myseslf after he's was gone.
After I clean up, I head upstairs to count my tips. I need to know exactly what I am working with. Emptying out my pockets I notice right away that a few things were missing. The money is all there, but the phone numbers are gone.
"Son-of-a-bitch."
**DOMONIC**
She's pissed, I can see it and feel it as we glide down the street in my shiny silver Hummer. Her eyes are sparkling with heat, and she hasn't said even one word to me this entire ride.
Sure, it's only been about five minutes, but for some reason it feels like a lifetime. Maybe because I'm driving so slowly.
*Hurry up idiot! *
*You're supposed to be making it safe for her to leave, not holding her hostage in your car.*
"Why are you driving like a granny?" She asks as I cruise to a stop and allow an entire squadron of old ladies to cross the street on both sides.
"It's foggy as fuck. I don't want to kill anyone." It's true, it is foggy. The entire town is pretty much covered in this mist for most of the year. It's the number one reason my family chose to settle here long ago.
"You snuck into my room while I was in the shower and took my phone numbers, didn't you?"
I hide my smile.
*Nope. I took them last night while you were asleep.*
"I don't have any idea what you are talking about."
She laughs and my cock twitches in her direction.
*Fuck her and that throaty voice she has.*
For a second, I picture it. The fucking of her throat, and I nearly steer off the road.
"What the fuck," she snaps. "Are you good?"
*Nope. I'm hard.*
"There was a squirrel. You didn't see it?" I glance at her and notice that she is staring at me in total disbelief.
"No. I did not."
"Well, there was one."
"Right," she says.
From the corner of my eye, I see that her attention has fallen to my lap. Probably noticing my semi brought on by her sultry giggles. Damn it. It's almost like I can feel her heat through my jeans. Just the knowledge of her watching me get ting rock hard is making it worse and I'm on the verge of needing new pants.
"Eyes up here, Babygirl," I hiss.
Another laugh, she croons, "You like me."
I glare out the window as we turned the corner onto the main road, my face suddenly flushing at the complete inaccuracy of her statement. *I more than like you baby.* "No," I say.
"You do," she teases.
*Why does it feel like my thraot is closing up?*
"You have a very sensual laugh. That doesn't mean I like it."
*Lies. I love it.*
"You, like, me," she sings again.
Still, I shake my head no. "Wanting to fuck someone and actually liking them, are two very different things."
*Fuck. Why did I say that? That, was mildly insulting.*
Her face falls and she looks away from me, causing a strange form of panic to rise inside my throat.
"Ain't that the truth," she whispers.
My head snaps up and the sadness on her face has me feeling like shit. I have the starangest urge to pull over and demand that she tell me what her stepfather did to her right then and there. I feel the connection in her words, but... I don't think she'll tell me yet.
*Or maybe, I should just kiss her until she doesn't look so sad anymore.*
"You are very beautiful," I admit.
It's all I can say. I can't think of any other way to fix what I have just fucked up.
*She's more than just beautiful. And as soon as I find a word that fully describes what she is I will use it.*
"That's all I am," I hear her comment under her breath.
*Damn it.*
"What the hell does that mean?" I have to ask.
"Nothing," she says quietly as we pull up to the boutique.
Before she can get out, I snatch her hand as gently as possible and the soft warmth of her skin almost has me groan. To have such softness wrapped around my dick would be a pleasure worth dying for. Sparks light up my arm from just the contact and I can feel a rumble in my chest start up with the pleasure of it.
*Fucking hell.*
She stiffens but doesn't pull away, yet she doesn't look at me either. 
*Suddenly I know without a doubt that all she would need to do to spin my world in her direction would be pull me toward hers.*
*If she would just look at me and ask me to... I would.*
But she can't ask for what she doesn't know exists and more than likely if she *did* know, she would run screaming.
I drop her hand. "I'll be back in half an hour."
"Yeah, okay." She gets out and I'm left there staring after her.
I hurt her feelings. I can feel it. Racing off, I head for the club. Determined, now more than ever, to find out as much as I can about where she came from.

###>>>
Chapter Nine

" **DRAVEN**
What I love most about the little shop I'm in, is the prices are all pretty decent. The one that Domonic dropped me in front of was awesome too, but way too expensive. Once I got a look at their prices, I left. Luckily, there were four other boutiques on the same portion of the block, and I would still be able to see Domonic when he returned for me.
The shops weren't too busy, a few people straggling about, but not many. After I purchasing a few essentials, one of them being a turtleneck, I saunter outside to await Domonic's return. When I see the curb is still empty I begin to wish I bought a watch.
Spying a little cafe across the street, I shrug and walk over, intent on waiting at one of the little tables outside.
With coffee in hand, I take a seat at one of the five stone tables and sipped my mocha greedily. A large shadow passes over me and I look up startled to see one of the guys from the bar standing over me and blocking the sun.
"You didn't leave," he says.
It is the blond guy. The one that was seated in the bar with Domonic yesterday when I first arrived.
"I didn't," I grin, crossing my legs toward him as my eyes scan the street. *Where is Domonic?*
He laughs, sticking his hand out for me to shake. "Paul," he introduces himself, lifting my hand up to kiss the back of it. "May I?"
I nod, kicking one of the chairs out in front of him so that he might sit down. "Draven."
He smiles flashing a barrel of white teeth. "I know. And might I just say, I'm glad you're still here. We get fresh faces in this place all the time, but none of them ever stay. And yours is not only fresh, but it's terribly beautiful."
I have to laugh at that. *So they can be charming when they want to be.* I wonder what changed this one's mind. I'd hate to think Bart and Domonic have told the entire town about what I hide behind my clothes. 
"Might I ask who you're waiting for?" Paul queries.
My eyes narrow, and my gaze travels over him with mild interest. He's trimmer than Domonic. Not as heavily muscled. "You might ask, but I might not say."
He chuckles, the laugh lighting up his entire face and crinkling his eyes. He's actually pretty damn cute.
Blue eyes twinkle as he studies me, taking in my hooded sweater and then locking in on my neck. Smile faltering, he swears, "Jesus Christ."
I put up a finger, "Don't!"
*Shit. He noticed the bruises, even with my hoodie completely zipped up.*
His jaw ticks, but I can see him trying to let it go. The angry tap of his foot is shakes the table until I send him a wavering smile to calm him down.
"I'm out of there now," I say. "So, I just would rather forget about it."
He nods stiffly, his eyes going back to my neck for a long moment. "Understood." With a sigh, he looks around us as if watching for someone. "So, listen, if you still need work, I own the Red Wolf Cafe and if you want you could-"
I interrupt him, holding up my coffee. "So, this magic brew belongs to you?"
"It does."
"Thanks for the offer, but Bart hired me anyway."
His eyes go wide with shock. "He did?"
I nod with a wink. "Yes, he did. And for that I will forever be grateful. Because he did it before seeing the bruises."
"Shit," he simpers, then buries his face in his hands. "I'm sorry. If it had been up to me yesterday, I would have welcomed you with open arms and an offer to take you out to dinner. But Domonic - he's different. I think he was more than just a little thrown off by your appearance yesterday. I mean - we were all expecting a dude. Domonic's really intense most of the time, but he means well."
I giggle. Yeah, okay guy, sure. "So, what does that mean - do you all own the bar, or does it belong to Bart?"
"We all own it, but Bart runs it."
"I see. So out of the four of you, Bart is the only one with even an ounce of raw chivalry." No wonder they acted that way when I arrived. "And here I was afraid you were all going to lock me in and gang up on me."
He gasps, "What? No way!" Again, he studies me. "I'm sorry if it felt that why." Leaning forward, he dips his head in shame. "So, you're staying above the bar now?"
I shake my head. "No. I was but apparently it needs to be renovated, so Domonic has graciously put me up in the condo behind his house."
His eyes narrow. "Really?"
"Yeah."
"That's weird," he quips.
It is my turn to be shocked. "Why is that so weird?"
He shrugs. "Because Domonic ordered the rest of us *not* to help you. In fact, he was very clear about wanting you to leave town as soon as possible."
"Is... that...right..."
**DOMONIC**
"Draven Piccoli, daughter of Isabella Lucio and Gio Piccoli. She's twenty-two with no driver's license anywhere, but her State I.D. says she's from Florida. Her father disappeared when she was just a baby. Her mother then became a stripper to support her little girl. After a few years doing that, she married, but never changed her name. And for some reason it's taking a while to retrieve a copy of the marriage certificate, but I should have it by tomorrow afternoon. Her mother died two years ago. The cause of death 'undetermined'. Last known address for Draven puts her close to the beach in Miami, in a house owned by one Marvin Ryder. At first, I thought this Marvin might be her stepdaddy, but turns out he's too young. Marvin was the owner of the Beach Club Bar she was working in. Sound familiar?"
"So, she's Italian."
"Yes, looks like it."
"And her real father might still be out there somewhere."
"I'll look into him next."
"That's why she has such beautifully tanned skin."
Rainier laughs, "What?"
"She does. I mean - I still don't want her here, but she does, and you know she does."
*I still don't want her here - who the fuck are you kidding. Liar.*
Adjusting the belt on his pants, Rainier takes a seat in front of me, placing his big Sherrif boots on my desk. "Okay, so what? A lot of girls have beautiful skin, Domonic. Yesterday you said you wanted her gone, then this morning I got a message from you telling me to dig into her. What's up, Dom? Who is she?"
*She's mine* I want to say, but I don't. Besides, I'm not keeping her, so she really isn't. I'll eliminate the threat to her safety then send her off to live her life.
*And then the ache in my chest will certainly return. Fuck.*
I shrug. "Yesterday I didn't know how severe her circumstances were. Now, I do. I still want her gone, but I can't in good conscience send her away until I know what she's dealing with."
Rainier nods solemnly. "Fair enough. But what do you mean - how severe they are? What happened to her?"
I shake my head, not wanting to share any details until I have them all. "Just make sure you take note of any new visitors that come into town. Especially, any father and son duos that might arrive for 'vacation'."
He nods again, dropping his boots from my desk. "Done. But Domonic, if she really is in danger, then why can't she stay? When Pebbles arrived in town a couple of years ago needing a job and a new life, you gave her that. Now, she works here, for you, and is married and happy. What makes this girl any different?"
Not going to answer that.
"Make sure and tell the guys to be on the lookout too. We all should be vigilant. And as soon as you get that marriage certificate, I want to know everything about the man on it. And I mean everything. From the sound of his laugh to his birth mother's panty size. Everything."
Rainer strokes his jaw, looking a little too thoughtful for my liking. "Maybe one of us should date her. You know, just to keep a closer eye on her."
*There is it. That clenching, crushing, pain in my chest.*
*Over my dead body will one of them date her.*
My throat begins to rumble a bit, a growl forming in my chest when I look at him, but I swallow it back. "You're fucking married," I nearly snarl, losing my cool for the breadth of a second.
"Not me!" Rainier scoffs. "But Draven's no troll, Dom. I'm sure one of the others would gladly pose at her bedside if that's what it takes."
"No," I grind out. "I already have her staying in my guesthouse out back so that won't be necessary. Besides, I won't have any of them attached to her when it's time for her to leave."
*And just what do I think will happen when she does. How long will it take after she's gone, for some other guy  to snatch her up?*
*I can't think about that. I can't.*
"Okay," he says with the quirk of an eyebrow. "Still doesn't explain why she can't just stay here, but I better get back to work. I've already been gone too long."
Fuck! 
Me too!

###>>>
Chapter Ten

**DOMONIC**
Glancing down at my phone I see I've been here for an hour and fifteen minutes. "Right. Go ahead, I have to get out of here too."
After locking up my office, I am stopped at the door by Margo in her glittering silver stars and heavy make-up. Her body is on full display, and I mean full display. After all, she works here at the club and brings in a lot of customers. But I notice right away that for the first time since meeting her, my dick didn't so much as twitch.
Damn it.
"Where are you going?" She asks, grabbing my arm to prevent me from hedging out the door.
"I'm busy Margo. I already told you that. Get out of my way."
"Wait!" She purrs. "What about tonight? Can I come over. You left me pretty unsatisfied last night. Too busy with that bitch to take care of me the way you should."
I have to laugh. This dumb bitch. "Margo, you are not my girlfriend. You know that. It would be best if you stopped coming over until the girl is gone."
She narrows her eyes at me, crossing her arms under her heavy breasts. "What? Why?"
"Don't worry about why. Just stay away for now." Then I leave without so much as a look back.
When I arrive in front of the boutique, I am floored by the sight of Draven across the street laughing with Paul.
Motherfucken traitors. All of them.
**DRAVEN**
"There's my ride." I stand up and grab my bags the moment the Hummer appeared across the street.
Paul smiles, "Okay. So, I'll see you tomorrow night then."
I nod, "Yup. I'll be waiting."
I cross the street, rolling my eyes at the black windows of the Hummer.
*You're late douchebag.*
Once I'm inside the car I run my hands up and down my arms to chase away the chill before buckling my seatbelt.
Looking over at Domonic, I see his gaze is locked on the cafe and on Paul reentering the building. He doesn't so much as blink.
"I thought you said half an hour."
He doesn't look at me. His jaw is clenched angrily, and his hand is white knuckled over the gear shift. "My thing... it ran late."
"I can see that. What's up? Are we going back to the condo or what?"
Again he doesn't speak, nor does he look away from Paul's shop.
"Domonic-"
"I thought you needed to go shopping."
"I did go shopping," I say, shaking the bags in front of me. "I've been done shopping for almost an hour."
He laughs, darkly. "So, you've been across the street with Pretty Paul for an hour?"
I scowl. "I guess so. Isn't he your friend?"
He finally rips his eyes away from the shop to turn toward me with a tight-lipped smile. Putting the car in gear, he studies the road ahead but makes no move to roll away from the curb.
"What did the two of you talk about?"
Glaring at him, I remember what Paul told me about how Domonic ordered them not to help me. "Mostly we talked about how great a guy Bart is for hiring me even though you told him not to. In fact, despite you demanding that no one help me."
He hisses, "But did they listen? No."
Then he pulls out onto the street, and we race away. He isn't driving slowly this time, swerving around cars and running a red light as I clutch the bottom of my seat.
"What the fuck?" I snap. "It's still foggy you know."
He sighs, slowing down and gracing me with a weary sidelong glance. "You shouldn't let Paul charm you. He's a player."
I laugh. "What?"
"I said, he's a player. He's gone out with most of the women in this town."
"Even Margo?"
He chuckles, "Yes. Even Margo."
"Ew. Then I better cancel our date tomorrow night. I don't want anything that skank has touched."
The hummer suddenly screeches to a stop in the middle of the road, causing my body to snap forward and my neck to wrench.
"Ouch!" I scream, glaring at him. "What is wrong with you?"
"Date? You have a date with Paul?" Hs words come out way more incredulous than his face lets on and it is all I can do not to smack his pretty little mug.
"Yes asshole!" I shout. "And now my neck hurts."
He glanced at me, his eyes full of remorse. "Shit. I'm sorry." He groans. "I really didn't mean to do that."
He begins driving more slowly and I unzip my hoodie so that I can massage my neck. It is stiff and painful where I touch it and suddenly, I am filled with rage. "I'm going to need to soak in a hot bath of Epsom salts now, thanks to you. Was there another squirrel in the road?"
He lets out a long breath as we pull into the back of his driveway. "No squirrel."
"Then what is your problem? You've got more mood swings than a fifty-year-old woman."
He snickers. "I'm sorry. I need to learn to control my temper. It's just beginning to become more and more clear that nobody listens to me."
"So this is about how you're the only one who didn't want to help me." I turn toward him as best I can with the stabbing pain at the back of my skull. "Who the fuck are you, the damn mayor?"
He grins. "Something like that."
"Are you really?"
"No," he says, taking my bags and exiting the car to come around to my side.
I open the door and try to step out, but he stops me, lifting me into his arms so that I am pressed against his hard warm chest. 
And oh, what a chest it is. 
While we are stood there, the flex of his biceps seal me in against his raw energy. I can feel every ounce of his  power in the easy way he holds me. My fingers are itching to slide over his pectorals and into his shirt. Our eyes meet and for a long moment he just stares down at me. Flecks of gold in his dark gray eyes seem to throb and stretch across the irises. Electricity buzzes through me, causing my breath to catch in my throat.
"I can walk you know," I whisper softly as his gaze falls toward my lips. Licking his own, he seems frozen, his head lowering slowly before he shakes himself and rips his eyes away.
He ignores my words, kicking the door shut and carrying me into the condo. Depositing me gently, to stand next to the sofa, he drops down on top of it and widens his legs pointing toward the empty spot in front of him right between his knees. "Sit," he orders, his voice thick and low.
"What?"
"Take off your sweater and sit down on the floor. I'll rub your neck."
I cock an eyebrow at him, but I'm not going to argue with a free massage. Especially when he's the reason behind my needing one.
"One condition," I warn as I slowly unzip my sweater. "You don't get to ask about my bruises."
He nods, his eyes glittering with heat as I slip my arms out of my sleeves. Then I sit down in front of him like he asked. For a moment nothing happens, then I hear him sigh and scoot forward to place his strong warm hands at the sides of my neck. There's a thrumming there, where he touches me. And liquid heat is piling in at my core ready to release with the slightest of urgings. I lean back, and the heavy warmth of the bulge behind my head draws a soft hiss from the man above me.
I can feel him straining in the tension of his legs on either side of me. Feel the hesitant longing in his fingertips where they rest upon my skin. I'm becoming dizzy with the want of him and it's all I can do not to moan and purr against the heat of his thighs. My body is begging to shift backward. With just his touch, some dark part of my mind is sparking to life. Whispering that if I can just trust this man - if I can just bring myself to tell him everything - then *he* might be the one person in this world that will actually *believe* me.
*No. No way. It's too dangerous.*
Instead of massaging me like he promised, Domonic curses, slipping one hand under my chin to tilt my head upward and back as delicately as possible. His fingers gently gliding down my throat toward the dip of my bosom. Eyes alight with silver fire, I suffer the intensity of them until the only sound I can hear is the thump, thump, thumping of my heartbeat.
Swallowing thickly, he bites his bottom lip as his eyes go black, his pupils dilating completely. It is only then that I realize, he can see right down my shirt.
*Is it hot in here?*

###>>>
Chapter Eleven

**DOMONIC**
“What are you doing?” She asks me, her voice strained.
Trying to figure out how I’m going to touch you without losing control.
It’s as if I’m in some sort of trance while we’re sat there, her hair falling around her shoulders to the floor. Some of it over her breasts, some of it over my knees. Goddamn it, she is fire.
I trace the outside of her face with my thumb, stroking her skin back and forth and trying to pull my eyes away from the valley of flesh exposed by her tank top. But it's harder than I thought it would be.
*Everything is harder. Everything.*
She simply stares up at me, her lips parted and wet, and her legs cris-crossed in front of her. I clamp my eyes shut for a moment and lean forward. I don’t open them again until I've released her chin to place my fingers on her mostly bare shoulders instead.
Her head is directly in front of my crotch now. Damn.
“Let me know if I hurt you,” I say, my voice coming out strangled and deep. I begin to work her muscles in her shoulders and the fall of her eyelids to crescents of feathered lashes is enough to tell me she's enjoying my touch.
Her skin is softer than velvet.
She closes her eyes and moans as my hands knead and pinch and pull with ease. The sound is not one I will ever forget. I want to pull her up in front of me and do her entire back. I am dying to strip off her top and latch on to one of her heavy round breasts, but of course, I don’t. Instead, my fingers find themselves delving lower and lower over her chest, until they are cresting along the tops of her honey-colored mounds.
*Fuck. She is so soft.*
The plump fullness of her breast is begging me to slip my hand all the way in an hold the heavy weight of them against my palm.
“That feels so good,” she whimpers causing me to clench my teeth.
Hell yes, it does.
My hands start trembling, and I have to fight for control. Blood pounds between my legs turning my dick into a throbbing lead weight, and we were only five minutes in. She sighs and leans her head back so that I could roll my thumbs beneath her skull, and I find myself stroking the skin beneath the straps of her bra. It would be so easy just to slide deeper and cup her in my hands. I'm dying to wrap my fist in her hair and drag her up onto my lap.
*I should. I really should. She's mine. Why can't I?*
That’s it. I can’t do this. I have to stop.
I was about to, my hands stopped moving, and she opened her eyes. But instead of sitting back and away from her, what I say is, “Get up here.”
And God fucking damn it. She does.
She slides upward, pushing her ass into my groin with the movement and a sound that is half moan half growl, rumbles deep within my chest and I roll my hips against her. My hands drop from her shoulders to stroke the outsides of her thighs, massaging and kneading as she pushes back against my chest. I pull her hips in closer so that she could feel my dick straining against my pants and I slide one hand over the front of her top to hold her throat, the other gliding up to capture one full breast.
*God. I want her so bad. I need to have her. At least one time.*
Sweet Jesus. Her nippples are poking straight through the fabrics of their coverings and I brush my hand back and forth over the tops of them. A singe of fire pumps through my cock and 
I groan.
“You’re fucking perfect,” I hiss, tasting her shoulder and causing her to moan. My tongue swirls over her flesh and she heats against my tongue. I close my arms more tightly around her, shivering at the feel of her body in my grip. Pulling her in tighter and she rolls her hips back against my erection and I almost bite her it is that good.
"Mmm," I murmur, all pleasure, no protest. With my mouth traipsing so close to her neck, I can feel my fangs tingling, begging to be revealed and sink deep within her flesh. Squeezing her breast, I tip her head back and groan.
Somebody has to stop me. 
She freezes. “Wait. What are we doing?” She moans and the sound is fucking beautiful.
“Kissing,” I say, trying to turn her face toward mine and get a taste of her lips.
She jumps up and my body instantly missed her closeness. It's painful. My skin is fucking throbbing with remorse. 
Panting in front of me like a wanton goddess, she is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.
“You don’t like me,” she snipes, stepping away from the couch. “You already told me so.”
No, I didn’t!
“What? I-”
“In the car. On our way into town.” She crosses her arms over her bountiful chest and snaps, “You said it yourself. Liking someone and wanting to fuck someone are two different things.”
Shit. I did say that.
“Wait a minute Draven, I-”
“No. Get out.”
“Fuck,” I say, dropping my face in my hands. What I wouldn’t give to wind this shit back a little.
Really, it is for the best. Whether I want her or not, I will still need her to leave when the time comes. But...
“Fine,” I say standing as best I can with a raging hard on in my pants. “But cancel your date tomorrow night.”
She laughs. “No. Why the hell would I?”
I grit my teeth, wanting to scream at her. Wanting to scoop her back into my arms and lock her in *my* room, in *my* house. But if I do that, I will probably want to keep her and if I keep her I might - no strike that - I can’t keep her. I can’t. She’s already had two monsters in her life, I doubt she’d go for another one. Especially one with secrets like mine.
*Especially because I am an actual beast.*
“You won’t have a good time,” I say simply. My mind thinking on Paul and how it will difficult to even look at him should he taste her lips before I do.
*And I will taste them. I will.*
“Says you,” she scoffs, grabbing her shopping bags and heading toward the stairs. “I’m not canceling.”
I bite down. “If you don’t, then you’ll regret it.”
She smiles. Actually smiles at me. “I doubt it.” Reaching inside her bag, she whips out a sexy lace negligee and says, “What do you think? Too much for a first date?”
The image of her modeling that scrap of lace for anyone who isn’t me, burns into my mind. “You wouldn’t dare,” I growl.
I'll kill them. I'll kill them both if she wears that for hiim. 
And somehow, that thought is what sobers me.
*I would do it. That's how jealous I am feeling.*
“You’re right,” she laughs. “I wouldn’t. Not on the first date. Maybe on the second.”
My muscles tense. The need to caution her as vital as drawing breath.  "Draven, I'm warning you."
"You're warning me?" She laughs. "Okay Mister Mayor." She winks at me walking toward the door and opening it. "Thanks for the ride. And the massage. Maybe I'll see you at the bar later."
"I'll drive you to work."
She chuckles, and God if it isn't the sexiest sound I've ever heard. "No. I'm walking."
I saunter toward her, sizing her up and getting a good look at the lingerie in her hands. Bright red lace that, without a doubt, was going to set off her eyes. Leaning in close, I say, "Don't forget, I'm picking you up after work and if you wear that tonight, you better leave the shades open."
*Because I am the only one who is going to see you in it.*
Her eye lids lower, lashes fluttering. "Maybe. If you're lucky. Now get out."
I did, and she wasted no time slamming the door behind me.
Fucking Paul.
I want to rip him to shreds, but I know I can't. First, it's not his fault he wants her. She's fucken sexy.
Second, if I give her anymore undue attention, everyone's going to know who she is to me, and I need her out of here before the next full moon. Because if she stays any longer than that... she'll find out everything.
And... I might never let her leave.

###>>>
Chapter Twelve

**DRAVEN**
It was already time to close up and I still hadn't seen Domonic. Not that I was really expecting to. I may have wanted to, but of course, that's not the same thing. I mean, I had said maybe I would see him at the bar. I was hoping he'd catch my meaning, but it wasn't a clear invitation, so I wasn't going to pout about it.
"He'll be here," Bart chuckles, wiping down the counter for the final time.
I pretend not to know what he was talking about. "Who'll be here?"
"Ha! You've had stars in your eyes since you got here. Every time that door has opened you've been on high alert."
I snicker as I count up my tips. "I had stars in my eyes because last night I made over six hundred dollars, and I was excited about making more. That - and this is the prettiest city I've ever seen, plus I got to walk down the most amazing hillside to get here." The people out here certainly tipped well, that was for sure.
He laughed, tossing his washcloth at my face. "I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid.”
I stick my tongue out at him. "Maybe you're both."
Just as Bart pushes the last of the late-night patrons out the door, Domonic walks in.
"Dom," Bart greets him, giving him a quick hug.
Domonic looks freshly showered, with his red-brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail that is still slightly wet. My eyes fall over him, from the dark black jacket he wears, to the front of his faded blue jeans. But what really draws my attention, is the thick bulge behind his zipper bringing back memories of that afternoon and causing a sizzle in my panties.
His dark gray eyes sparkle when he notices where I am looking. "You ready?"
I nod, not really knowing what else to say. Bart casts me a knowing smile and I flip him off when Domonic has his back turned.
"Don't forget about the meeting tomorrow night," Domonic tells him.
Bart's eyes catch mine for a moment, "I won't forget."
I roll my eyes. "You already told me, the bar's closed tomorrow. I know. I have a date anyway."
Bart squints his eyes, "Really? With-"
"Paul," Domonic answers. A look passes between the two of them and I pretend not to notice it.
"Shit," Bart says.
"Yeah," Domonic whispers.
"What?" I ask, stepping between the two. "What's wrong with Paul, besides that he's a player?"
Bart laughs, "He's not a player. Who told you-"
"Goodnight Bartlett," Domonic interrupts, shoving him to hold the door open and push me outside.
The ride up the hill is quiet. I didn't know what Bart was about to say, but I had a pretty good idea. Domonic probably lied about Paul being a player, which could only mean one thing. He was jealous. Maybe, just maybe, he likes me after all.
But why not admit it? Especially after I practically melted on his lap this afternoon. I shivered at the memory of it. The way his tongue felt on my shoulder, how his hands felt on my skin. I'd never been that aroused before.
When I jumped off his lap, it had been with a purpose. Maybe not a noble one, but a necessary one. I didn't want to be a Margo.
Almost as if he was thinking of the same things, he asks, "How's your neck."
"Surprisingly, fine. You have magical hands."
He smirks, turning his attention to me as we pull in the driveway. "Are you tired?"
"Of course, I'm tired. It was busier tonight than it was yesterday."
He sighs, shutting off the engine and glancing out into the trees. "I left your dinner in the fridge."
I'd already had dinner at the bar, but I wasn't going to say so. "Thank you. You really don't have to do that you know. Bart said I can have whatever is on the menu whenever I want."
"Right," he nods. "How many numbers did you get this time?"
I lie. "None."
"Bullshit."
I shrug, "Okay, five. But I threw them all away. Not that it would matter if I kept them, because I don't have a phone."
"Yes, you do," he says.
Reaching into his jacket pocket, he side-eyes me, then pulls out a small box with the picture of a phone on the front.
"What's this?" I ask when he hands it to me.
"It's brand new and already connected. You shouldn't be without a phone."
"Whose name is it under?" I gulp, knowing that if it is under my name that he may have fucked everything up for me.
"Mine," he says, reaching across me to place his hand on my seatbelt. His body presses me back into the seat. As luck would have it, this puts the side of his neck right at my lips. I inhale deeply, the pine lemon scent of him invading my nostrils and causing me to tremble. Just an inch forward and I would be kissing that neck.
"Domonic," I whisper.
He freezes for a moment before unbuckling the strap, as if my saying his name prevented him from completing the small task. His face falls forward into the cascade of my hair and I hear him intake a deep breath, his lips cresting my shoulder just barely. I want to pull him in deeper. Want to busy his mouth on the flesh of my neck or force my lips onto his and beg him to fuck me. 
*Fuck. What the hell is wrong with me? Am I panting?*
I can hear it, the uneven breath coming in gasps with his closeness. For a moment, he lingers there - lips hovering over my clavicle.
Then he stiffens and sighs, rearing up and away from my throat. "I already put my number in it. You're welcome." He unlatches the belt and pulls it carefully away from my body, resting a hand on my thigh in the process and groping up a bit higher, before pulling away as if he's been burned. "It's late," he comments, not meeting my eyes.
I nod, clutching the phone to my chest. "Thank you."
Taking the hint, I exit the car and enter the condo without another word. As I turn around, I notice he is already on his back porch.
Jesus, he's quick.
Probably noticing my door didn't shut, he turns around to stare at me. There is something in his eyes. Something in the absence of his smile that warns of a storm brewing. His eyes wind down my body as he speaks, "Remember. Shades open."
*Really... All you want is a fucking peep show?*
I snort, flipping him off before slamming the door and locking the deadbolt into place. "Pig."
Then, as I heat up the dinner he left me, I smile scandalously.
If he wants a show, I guess I can give him a little one.
Then we'll see how long it takes for him to break.

###>>>
Chapter Thirteen

**DRAVEN**
I flipped the switch to shade all the downstairs windows and sit down to eat while getting to know my new phone. It seems to be a newer model and nothing I would have ever bought for myself with my own money.
As promised, it came programmed with one phone number. Mister Mayor's. I laugh before changing the name to Domonic and I have just put it down when it chimes
-Domonic
What are you doing down there?
Calling one of those numbers
you threw away?
-Me
Why aren't you asleep?
-Domonic
You know why.
-Me
I do.
-Domonic
Cancel your date tomorrow.
-Me
I can't. I won't.
-Domonic
Why not?
-Me
I don't have Paul's number.
-Domonic
Lol. That's real cute.
-Me
Maybe if you told me why
 you care so much.
-Domonic
I don't care. I just don't want
him getting attached to someone
that he can't have.
-Me
You don't care...
You tell me to cancel with someone
because you don't care.
Doesn't make much sense to me.
And tell me what makes you think
he can't have me?
-Domonic
It's not what I think.
It's what I KNOW.
-Me
If that's all, then the best I can do
is leave the shades open TOMORROW
night so you can watch us. 😉
Sweet Dreams!
I stay downstairs until three-thirty in the morning, hoping that Domonic has gone to sleep. When I finally make it upstairs, I start the shower and flip the shade switch open. Nothing but darkened windows await me across the yard. With a sigh, I shrug my shoulders and begin to undress. Disappearing inside the bathroom in just my underwear. Freezing for a moment in front of the mirror, I note my bruises are still visible. Then with a sigh I step under the scalding water of the shower.
All the lights are out in my bedroom, and I know if Domonic is watching, all he can see at the moment, is the haloing glow of the bathroom light beneath the door. When I finish, I slip on the negligee - which I am happy to see fits like a damned glove - then I exit the bathroom, flipping the shade switch closed after a long moment staring out the window. Then, I head straight for my bed.
I decide to save my little show for when my bruises are all gone. What kind of person, hosts a strip show covered in black and blue? A sicko, that's who. I hadn't seen any activity across the yard anyway. With any luck, he is asleep.
Two minutes later my phone chimes again.
-Domonic
Why did you close the shades?
-Me
Did you get me this phone
just so that could harrass me?
Why aren't you asleep?
-Domonic
I've been watching for you.
I thought you were gonna 
give me a show.
The thing fits you perfectly btw.
-Me
How did you see me without my
lights on?
-Domonic
I see better in the dark.
Open the shades.
I want to watch you.
-Me
Watch me?
Watch me do what?
LOL
-Domonic
Whatever I ask you to do.
Starting with you opening the 
shades.
-Me
No. Go to sleep.
Smiling to myself, I close my eyes. It is only my second day here and already I am crushing on someone. If it can even be called that.
*Somehow, I know that it is more.*
The draw, the pull, the ache. All of it bangs out a warning that this man could ruin my heart completely. 
"What am I going to do with myself?"
Tossing and turning for the next half hour, I picture Domonic in his bed, staring at my windows. My mind strolls back to the massage he gave me and the sound of his voice when he told me to 'Get up here'. God, I had never wanted anything so bad in my life. Each time he touched me my body zinged with energy. When he asked me how my neck was doing, I should have lied. I should have said it was killing me so that he would put his hands on me again.
But, of course, I'd been afraid. Scared that, like all the other men in my life, he only wanted one thing. *And he probably does.*  I am terrified that if I give myself to him, that he will abandon me immediately afterward, or that I will become less important to him.
*And you're important to him now? Ha. That's a laugh.*
I've never been into controlling men before, but somehow, he is different. I like his little bouts of jealousy. For me, they are a serious turn on. The fact that he refuses to admit that he likes me, is only making this whole thing more fun.
I wonder if he realizes Paul is coming over here for dinner. It'll be fun to see what happens when he finds out.
Playing out a few little scenarios in my head, I finally fall asleep.
***DREAM SEQUENCE***
*I felt, rather than heard him come into my room. Remembering that my mom was right next door wasn't any comfort. Not anymore. She was sick, and all that meant now, was that if I didn't do what I was told, she would get a lot sicker.
I kept my eyes clamped shut, cursing myself for not thinking he might come in here after mom got back from the hospital. I thought for sure I was safe until her next treatment was set to begin.
I was wrong.
I felt him peel back the covers ever so slowly and the glide of his hand over my bare legs as he unbuckled his pants. I was trembling inside, knowing all I really had to do to stop this was reach under my mattress for the knife I had stashed there.
"I know you're awake princess, but maybe it's better if you keep pretending, you're not."
I felt his tongue slide over my neck, but I kept my eyes clamped shut, not wanting to see the desire in his disgusting gaze.
His heavy breathing coupled with the sound of his pants dropping is what had me turn around. Until that night, all he ever really did was touch me. Sure, he had unbuckled his pants before, but he hadn't ever taken them off! 
"What are you doing?" I hissed.
He laughed, his ugly brown eyes following his hand as he forced it up under my shirt.
"Tonight, I'm going to teach you some of what it means to become a woman."
My eyes fell to his penis, noticing for the first time not only had he dropped his pants, but his underwear as well.
"N-no!" I whimpered, scrambling upward to sit up against the wall.
"Shut your mouth or your mother will hear you! Do you really want to upset her? After everything she's been through?"
I didn’t want to be the one who caused her broken heart. Didn’t want to be the reason her ‘perfect’ husband suddenly wasn’t so perfect anymore. If she knew what was going on, it might break her. So, like any loving daughter would do, I hid it from her instead.
I shook my head no.
"Well then do as I say and just relax. All I'm asking for is a kiss."*
***END OF DREAM***
I wake up sobbing.
Every now and then, not very often, but at least once every couple of weeks - I dream about him. My stepfather.
I should've known this was coming. Should've gone out to buy some chamomile tea or lavender or magnolia. Even a jar of melatonin gummies from the store might have been helpful. But I had hoped that being so far away from his evil for the first time might be remedy enough.
Apparently, I was wrong.
Drying my tears, I glance at the clock on the nightstand. Eight forty-five in the morning.
Not bad. More than four hours of sleep is definite progress. Maybe after I've been here a couple of weeks, I might even get six. Nice. Grabbing the bathrobe I bought yesterday - I shrug my arms into it and head toward the kitchen to make some coffee.
*Knock, knock, knock.*
As I stumble down the stairs toward the door, I realize, it is practically nine a.m. Great! Domonic probably wants to do breakfast and my face probably looks like a battered tomato from all the crying I've been doing.
"What?" I snap ripping open the front door and trying to hide my face behind my hair as best I can.
He doesn't wait for me to invite him in, just pushes past me and shuts the door. His eyes scan the living room first, then the kitchen, then the stairs before settling on me.
"What happened?" He asks, his sultry gray gaze falling over me.
I lift my chin, shaking back the sob he urges forth with just the concern in his eyes. "Nothing happened. Bad dream. I get them sometimes." I turn away from him and head toward the pantry to grab some coffee beans for the grinder. "What do you want?"
I didn't even hear him come up behind me. One minute I am reaching for the beans and the next minute I am in his arms. They close around me from behind like a warm blanket, gathering me close with an unspoken promise of cover. 
Burying his face in my hair, his nose tickles my ear. "You were crying," he whispers. "It felt awful."

###>>>
Chapter Fourteen

**DRAVEN**
*It felt awful? What?*
I stiffen. "It's over now and I need coffee."
His nose traces over my neck and my body trembles with delight. "Baby."
*Baby?*
"Domonic, what are you doing?" I try unsuccessfully to turn my body around.
He tightens his hold on me, pulling me out of the pantry and releasing me to press me down at the table. "Sit. I'll make the coffee."
"But-"
"No arguing." He proceeds to move about the kitchen. Grinding beans and filling the basket in the percolator. He works silently, not once looking up from his task.
"I don't want to talk about it," I say, expecting him to argue.
He just nods his head and begins taking out ingredients for an omelet. "What are your plans for today? Besides your dinner date with Paul."
I sigh in relief. "I don't really have any."
"That's good," he says. "Because you're spending your afternoon with me."
I hide a smile. "I am, am I? And what are we doing today?"
He finally looks at me, a strange vulnerability in the depths of his eyes. "We're going out on my boat."
"You have a boat?"
"A mini yacht to be exact. So go and get in the shower, because after we have breakfast, we're heading out."
He hands me a mug of coffee and I narrow my eyes at him. "This better not be some scheme to get me to talk about my dream or something. Because if it is? I'll be throwing you overboard."
He chuckles, but his eyes are still heavy with emotion. It seems to me that something is bothering him, and I have the feeling this boat trip is more about getting me out on the water where I can't run away, than it was about showing me his yacht.
"No scheme," he says smoothly then nods toward the stairs.
And fool that I am, I believed him.
**DOMONIC**
"Don't forget about the meeting tonight, Paul."
"I won't forget, but there wasn't a break-in last month remember?"
"That doesn't mean there won't be."
"I know that. I was just trying to point out that they've been terribly quiet. Too quiet."
"I know. We'll discuss it all tonight at the bar."
"The usual time, right?"
"Right."
"Good, because I have a hot date tonight, and I don't want to miss it."
I clutch the phone in my hand so tightly that I hear it crack. Shit. "Well so long as you're at the bar by eight o'clock it shouldn't be a problem."
"I'll be there. Where are you? It sounds like you're out on the yacht."
"That's exactly where I am, but don't worry. I'll be on time too."
I hang up the phone and cut the engine. Then as quickly as I can, I retrieve the lunch tray from the mess hall and join Draven on deck. As I approach, I feel it again, that burning in my chest that comes with every time I look at her. She is seated at the outdoor dining table, staring out at the Puget Sound with a carefree smile on her face. Each time I tell myself not to be affected by her, I fail.
This morning I heard her crying before I knocked on her door. I paced on the porch until she stopped, fighting the urge to unlock the damn thing myself and head up to her room to comfort her. I didn't know what about her dream had her crying and it was killing me inside not to ask. But I promised not to, so I wouldn't. That at least, I could give her. I don't know what kind of man haunts the dreams of his stepdaughter, but I can imagine. It was obvious that she wasn't ready to discuss him yet with anyone.
As far as dating Paul though? That was a different story. That just wasn't going to happen. Not on my watch. I didn't think I was strong enough to standby while someone else touched her or flirted with her. *Kissed her.* If I have to watch something like that, I might explode.
It is already one o'clock and we had been on the water since eleven a.m. By the time we've had lunch, and I've drunken enough boos, I will claim I need to sober up before heading back. Then it will be after six and too late for her date.
When we first headed out here, she told me Paul planned to have dinner with her in my condo. The fucking nerve of them both.
Of course, neither of them knew I was wholly against it, but that was beside the point.
"I hope you like lobster," I say arranging the food and plates around the table.
"Love it," she replies, her eyes bulging at the sight of the food. "You cooked this?"
I nod, taking a seat far enough away from her that I won't feel a detrimental amount of her heat. "I did."
She takes her first bite, and just the shape of her lips as she chews has me dropping my fork and knife on the table.
Jesus Christ.
How can anyone be so...
I reach for my whiskey decanter and poured myself a tall glass, downing the entire thing like a goddamned wino.
"Whoa! Slow down," she says. "That can't be good for you."
I chuckle and ignore the urge to cough up a lung. She is right, but I can drink more than most people. The reason being my metabolism is just a little more advanced than most. In that same respect, I get drunk a lot quicker than regular people do, it just doesn't last as long. But for the next twenty minutes, I am going to remain seated way over here. Far, far away from the dazzling beauty across the table.
Taking another full glass to the head, I choke out, "I love your lips."
Oh fuck.
What the hell?
She stops eating. "What?"
"Nothing, never mind." 
She glares at me. "Are you already drunk?"
I shake my head, smiling like a lying fool.
"You are. Of course, you are." She snickers, taking my half-filled tumbler and downing it. "Now maybe I'll get a few answers out of you."
I laugh, my head swimming as my eyes lock on her beautifully rounded chest. She is wearing another turtle-neck sweater, but this one is a vibrant green and matches her eyes completely. It is tight too. So tight.
Fuck.
This may not have been the best idea.
Note to self - never plan to sabotage something when desperate.
"Why did you want me to cancel my date with Paul?"
I clench my jaw, looking away from her and refusing to answer. At this point, I don't trust anything that might come out of my mouth.
"Domonic?" She prompts. When I still don't answer, she gets up out of her chair to take a seat closer to me, pressing her knees against my thigh.
My body unconsciously slides a bit farther in, pressing back.
My eyes shoot to her face. "What?"
"I asked you, why you wanted me to cancel my date with Paul."
I shake my head, "I just don't think it's a good idea."
"Because he's a player."
I nod. "Right."
"Liar."
"Prove it." I scoff.
Taking the last of her lobster into her mouth, she chews slowly and closes her eyes. Moaning with the flavor of it.
Bitch. She did that on purpose.
"You can have mine too," I say, drowning the warning bells in my head with the liquor in my blood stream. Torture. That's what this is. That's what I'm doing to myself.
Her eyes light up. "Really?"
I nod and proceed to watch her eat. Every bite she takes after that includes a new moan that drives my dick wild. When she finishs, she reaches across the table toward the whiskey and I snatch her hand in mine to stop her. She gasps in surprise, and bites her bottom lip. *No you don't - let me bite that.* I meant to release her hand, I really did, but instead I ended up yanking her from her chair and onto my lap.
"You don't like me," she whimpers, her free hand clutching my chest and her gorgeous green eyes lowering to mine.
"I love your lips," I say again, and then I kiss them.

###>>>
Chapter Fifteen

**DRAVEN**
He groans into my mouth, clutching my body against his and forcing his tongue past my lips. I know I should push him away, but I'm not ready to yet.
He tastes like whiskey, and I find myself drinking him in as I forcefully suck on his tongue. My mind swirls with the sounds of pleasure I elicit from him. His bicep flexing against my shoulders, causing me to shiver and arch my back so that his mouth drop in to nibble my earlobe.
"I want you," he hisses, stroking the outide of my leg with one hand. Every trek he makes over my hip burns through my jeans to tattoo my skini beneath. Liting me into his arms and  ppressing my into his chest, he carries me bridal style toward the companionway, without breaking our kiss.
I splay my fingers over his chest, tracing the contoured steel of his pectorals and feeling them flex beneath my fingertips. *God he feels good to touch.* Electricity courses through my body, my center thrumming with need.
We enter the stateroom and I fall onto the bed. Dropping his weight down on top me, he deepenes the kiss, stroking his hand down over my breast then caressing and groping over my hip. He slides one powerful leg between both of mine to bring his knee up against my heat and I cry out with pleasure.
"Domonic," I hiss, pulling the back of his ponytail so I that I can bite and nibble his neck.
He groans, dropping his head forward and further into my kiss. "You're too beautiful," he says, sliding one hand toward the bottom of my top and underneath. God, the feel of his hand on my bare skin has my back ricocheting off the bed.
*No! Wait a minute! My bruises.*
"Stop," I hiss, between kisses. "Stop please!"
He pushes his body into mine, mumbling against my neck. "Why? I want this," he says. "I want you."
"Stop," I say again. "Please stop."
He freezes with his hand locked on my waist, and his thigh pressing my legs apart. He lifts his head and his eyes are full of worry. "I-I'm sorry. I'm drunk." He rolls off of me to stand next to the bed.
*Drunk? Drunk!? Is that the only reason he kissed me? Because he is drunk?*
Running a hand through the unbound bangs of his shiny auburn hair he apologizes, "If I hadn't been drinking that way, I would never have been so forceful. I-"
*Wait, what?*
"Forceful?" I snap, sitting up against the headboard.
He turns around, his eyes full of remorse. "I should have been gentler. I-"
"No! No, you should not have been. Is that why you think I asked you to stop?"
He swallows, his brow furrowing. "It's not?"
I laugh. "No." I draw my legs up to kneel on the bed. "I loved the way you touched me I'm just not-"
"-loved?" He interrupts and I swear his face turns beet red.
I smile. "Yes, loved." I lean forward, climbing toward the end of the bed on all fours. His eyes glaze over with lust at my approach and he's fairly panting by the time I reach the edge. "I'm just not ready yet."
"You look extremely ready to me." He smirks, walking toward me slowly. "Especially in that position."
I giggle, dropping my legs over the bed and standing up. "We should head back. I still have that date," I say, tauntingly.
His eyes grow cold. "The date," he chuckles humorlessly, his gaze narrowing. "Unfortunately," he begins, heading right past me toward the bed to flop down on his side, "I'm drunk and can't head back for at least another hour and by that time, it'll be too late."
I scowl at him. That's why he took me out on his boat! So he could ruin my date. Well, the jokes on him then.
"You did this on purpose," I hiss. "You're jealous."
He clenches his jaw. "I'm not jealous."
"You are."
"I'm not."
"Admit it," I tease. 
He smiles, his dimples pushing a surge of liuid into my panties. I swear if I didn't think it would be way more fun to watch him snap, I would jump him right her and right now.
His eyes flame, gaze falling toward my lap almost as if he knows how wet I am now. "I'm going to lay right here and sober up. I shouldn't have been drinking as much as I did. I can't drive like this."
I glare at him, straightening my shoulders and taking a step toward the exit. "I guess you're in luck then."
He laughs. "Oh really? Why is that?"
I smirk. "Because something I didn't tell you - I grew up in Miami, and I may not have ever learned how to drive a car. But a boat I can drive."
He glowers at me. "Fine. You really want to see Paul that bad. We'll head back."
"Thank you," I say sweetly, before heading out toward the helm. "Start the engine please."
We make it back to the house to find Paul sitting on my doorstep. After unbuckling my seatbelt, I jump out of the car and greet him with a wide smile.
"Sorry I'm late. I almost got stuck out on the ocean."
He laughs, lifting a basket brought with him in my direction. "I brought dinner and wine."
"Nice," I say, unlocking the door.
I can feel Domonic's sour glare as I gesture Paul inside, but I ignore him, slamming the door behind me.
"So, you were out on the yacht with him when he called," Paul inquires, blue eyes narrowed in confusion.
I nod as he opens up the basket and begins setting up our dinner. "I guess I was. He called you?"
"He did." Paul says, taking a seat at the table and pouring two glasses of wine. "Funny, he didn't mention you were with him. Did he know you had a date with me tonight?"
I nod as Paul takes a sip of his wine. "Yup."
He sputters, "Really? That's pretty weird. I've never known him to be a cock blocker." A slow, strangely sadistic smile stretches across his face. "Well, well, well."
"What?"
He laughs. "He and I are supposed to be close friends. We're practically brothers - and he never said a thing about you being there with him."
*Knock, knock, knock.*
Paul chuckles, "A hundred dollars says that's him at the door."
"No bet because it wouldn't be anyone else." Without getting up, I shout, "Come in!"
The door opens and Domonic enters, but he doesn't look my way. "Paul, I need a word with you please."
Paul smiles, granting me a momentary glance before his eyes returned to Domonic. "Is it important? Because-"
"Yes," Domonic snaps, his tone serious. "It is."
"Can't it wait for the meeting? I mean, it's already seven o'clock."
Domonic's muscles tense, his anger bubbling. And if I didn't know better, I would have thought I heard him growl. He begins to laugh disturbingly slowly. "You want it to wait? Fine, it can wait."
Then with one long look my way, he storms back out, slamming the door behind him and shaking the walls with the force of it.

###>>>
Chapter Sixteen

**DRAVEN**
"What - the - fuck?" Paul frowns. Then turning to me he says, "Is there something going on between you two?"
I shrug. "We kissed, but he keeps saying that he doesn't like me so-"
Paul's eyes widen. "Wait! He kissed you?"
I nod, biting my lip. "Yeah. Is that a bad thing?"
He doesn't answer right away, just pours himself another glass of wine. "I'm not sure yet."
"I'm sorry if that puts you off. If you want to leave, I'll understand."
He stares at me, a strange sort of recognition warring within the depths of his gaze. "He's been acting funny ever since you walked into the bar the other day."
I laugh. "I wouldn't know. I've only just met you guys so-"
"Well, I would know. And he is. I just didn't think much of it. But now, seeing how angry he is - I wonder." Taking another drink of his wine, Paul studies me. "Did you like it when he kissed you?"
I sigh, not sure if I want to be honest or not. "He doesn't like me, he just wants me."
Paul chuckles, rolling his eyes. "First, that doesn't make a damn bit of sense. And second, that's not what I asked you."
I groan, dropping my face in my hands. "Yes. Yes, I did."
I peek out from behind my hands, afraid that maybe I'd hurt Paul's feelings, just to see that he is grinning at me. "Were you into him before I asked you out?"
"I-I don't know. I mean, I thought he was sexy, but he was too much of an asshole for me to like yet."
"How does it feel when he kisses you?" he asks, a strange sort of wonder in his voice.
I giggle, "I'm not getting into that one. You're not here for girl talk."
He taps one hand on the table in front of me, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Draven. I'm not going to judge you. You can tell me the truth. Do you like him more than you like me?"
I lower my head, "Yes." I cringe, "I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have agreed to this date."
"Did he tell you to cancel?"
I sigh, "Yes. But he refuses to tell me why. Just keeps saying that I won't enjoy myself."
To my surprise he just laughs and pours more wine. "How about we flip those shades open and give that bastard something to think about."
**DOMONIC**
I am sitting in my living room pretending to watch Sportscenter when the shades open in Draven's condo, and I am was given front row tickets to her date.
They are sat too close first of all. I can see their knees brushing together under the table and a low growl resonates behind my chest. Immediately, my claws shift out and I have to coax them back in so I don't shred my furniture.
*I want to tear him apart.*
*How can she do this?*
We were minutes away from...
I groan. It doesn't matter. It can't.
But as much as I want to, I can't look away from them. He is touching her hand, and she is sipping her wine. They are laughing and smiling, and I am going to lose my shit.
I have to put a stop to this.
Before I even know what I am doing, I am back on her doorstep and waltzing inside without knocking. The pair of them jump apart as I enter, which only serves to fuel my anger.
"What are you doing?" Draven snaps, but I ignore her and stomp over to the empty seat at the table.
I sit down across from Paul, then reach toward the leg of Draven's chair and pull her seat over to mine. Then strecthing across the table, I pull her plate away from his to rest in front of me. "Eat," I say simply.
Meeting Paul's incredulous gaze with an unmistakable glare, I challenge him to say pne goddamned thing about what I have just made painfully obvious to him.
*Damn it. So much for keeping the whole thing a secret.*
Now everyone will know.
"Domonic," Draven whispers.
"Eat," I repeat. "When you are finished, Paul and I will head to the meeting."
Paul's eyes flare with recognition. "I see," he acknowledges.
I meet his stare, an unmistakable command blazing in my eyes. *'She's mine'* it says. "You do," I confirm, causing him to take a huge gulp of air. I nod, shifting my eyes to Draven who hasn't yet made any move to touch her chicken. "Would you like me to feed you?"
She doesn't answer, just stares at me in awe. Glancing back at Paul, I reached under the table to place my hand possessively over Draven's thigh. She shivers at my touch, and I have to stop myself from stroking her further, deeper between her legs
I watch them finish their food in silence, never once taking my hand off Draven's leg. None of us has said a fucking word by the time they are done eating. Paul stands uncomfortably and smiles at Draven, throwing a knowing wink her way before looking back at me.
"Ready," he says.
I nod, standing up and pulling Draven into my arms and ignoring the electric feel of her against my body as I drown myself against her mouth. For the moment, this is just for show. If I seccumb completely to the haze of her in my arms I won't make it out the door. I just want Paul to see. Need him to. She melts into my kiss with a moan of approval, and I grasp her hips, pulling her into me so that she can feel the extent of what she does to my dick.
As I come away, I realize something. I am going to have to admit who she was to me at the meeting. I am going to have to acknowledge this to the rest of my pack. Telling them all I have found my mate. Or rather, that she has found me. Then, I will have to tell them that I'm not keeping her.
They might not be pleased with my decision to send her away despite the rules we agreed upon years ago. A few of them might fight me on it. But - it will have to be done. We will come up with a plan for her protection together. 
"I'll be back soon," I shisper to Draven, as I rip my lips from hers.
She nods somewhat trancelike, and I slide my hands over her back to cup her rear. *Fuck she has a nice ass.* "You are sleeping with me tonight. At my place, in my bed," i command softly.
She trembles against me and bites her lip. "Okay."
Relief floods through me. I half expected her to argue, but I was glad she didn't. Maybe she isn't prepared to show me her body yet, but at least she is ready to sleep in my arms. That will have to be enough for me. At least until I destroy the demons chasing her.
As I head out the door, she calls out to me. "Domonic?"
I answer without turning around. "Yes?"
"You like me," she croons.
I smile. "I like you."
I can't help the grin that stretches across my face as I climb into my Hummer and supersed Paul down my driveway.
But then, I let my jealousy get the better of me, and I aggressively tailgate Paul all the way down the hill to the bar. Following him so closely that I fail to notice the two dark sedans parked just a few houses away. Both of which had limo tinted windows and out of state plates. I saw them, but I didn't notice them. And because I didn't, I left Draven there alone.
Unprotected and unaware.

###>>>
Chapter Seventeen

**DOMONIC**
Gathered around the bar are all twelve members of the Red Wolf Pack. We are the last of the wolf shifters on the North Washington Coast. Sheriff Rainier, Deputy Koda, Deputy Lief, Fire Chief Timmons, Fire Deputy Logan, Fire Deputy Grant, Bartlett, Andrew, Quinn, James, Paul, and myself.
My father was Alpha before me, as his father was before him, and so forth. He now resides in Canada. A deserter, if you will. But he wasn't the only one. The rest of our pack went with him. They wanted the twelve of us to join them, but we refused.
There is one reason why the twelve of us remain here, refusing to leave. We have one major thing in common. The deaths of our human mothers. 
In the middle of the night, five years ago, a fire started in our packhouse, high up on the mountainside. All males of the pack being forced to shift into our wolf forms on the night of the full moon were nowhere in the vicinity when it began. Our mothers were left alone and unprotected. When the fire began, we were on the other side of the moutain. When we scented the smoke we raced back, but still in our wolf forms, we were helpless to stop the flames. The entire place was an inferno. There was nothing left of them by the time we were able to shift back. We were left to watch from the shadows of the trees as the human fire fighters put out the remainder of the embers. Every female human mate that resided there that night died.
That is when the twelve of us decided a packhouse was too much like an anthill and instead of cohabitating, we spread across the town. Each of us watching over a separate part of it. Each of us responsible for a different sector of its citizens.
But the rest of our pack, opted to leave. The pain of what we lost was too much for most to bear.
The twelve of us refused to leave the memories of our mothers behind the way our fathers and other pack members did. To this day we are determined to catch the murderer or murderers that started that fire all those nights ago. 
When they left and we stayed out here, in Port Orchard, was when the twelve of us decided, we would be the last of our pack. We came up with twelve rules we vowed to live by from that day forth.
Rule number one being - no mates. 
None of us wanted to experience the devastation our father's had. I heard that most of our old pack is now divided. That the mated wolves broke off from the mateless. Traveling East and away from the bad memories and faulty leadership. Leaving the twelve to die on their own they way they left us to die on ours.
We didn't want to have to experience anything like the heartbreak our fathers went through when they lost their mates. The emptiness, the guilt. It changed them. They are lifeless now. Not fit to lead, not fit to fight. They had to go and so they did. They gave up the fight and disgraced the memories of our mothers by leaving things the way they were. Unforgivable if you ask me. The future of our pack was no more. We never even talked to them about it. They simply sauntered into the night without looking back. 
It became clear to me on that day - that those twelve mateless wolf shifters - our fathers - never deserved to lead anyway. 
*Shifters* were not meant to be *weak.*
There are many different types of shifters in the world, but only two kinds out here in in this part of Washington. Wolves and Lions. Lion shifters are predominantly female. And females of any species are not as likely to commit mass murder, so we didn't think it had been them, despite their hatred for us.
No... something more sinister and secret lay behind the fire. And the twelve of us were determined to figure out what.
All wolf shifters as far as we know, are male. There are rumors of a female wolf shifter on the East coast, but fairytales are told every day.
The pride of lion shifters that we've been feuding with, is the entire reason behind our needing a human male to watch over the bar in the first place. Because every month on the night of the full moon, we as wolves, are compelled to change and roam the woods from sundown to sunup. On each full moon for the last few months someone has been breaking into the bar in search of something we have no knowledge of. And that someone must know we are 'unavailable' on that particular evening. So of course, we put out a nationwide search for a capable human caretaker who we could entrust with the bar - so that we as a group - might catch whoever has been breaking in.
Then for some reason, fate decided it might be funny to send Draven our way. Until now, we had all been lucky. None of us had found a mate. All of us, with the exception of Rainier, had opted to remain single. Rainier met and married Angie over a year ago, a local girl that he claimed he was in love with. But she wasn't his mate, so no babies would be coming from their union.
Shifters can only reproduce with their mates. We can fall in love, sure. But any bond we might have with that person is severed once a mate is introduced into the equation.
So, of course, from the moment I met Draven, I have known that she was going to have to leave.
Because keeping her is against the number one rule with have set in place for ourselves.
"She's your mate," Paul says, voicing the one thing I had hoped to keep secret.
I nod, "She is."
The entire bar falls silent. Each one of my brothers with sadness in their eyes. Then, just as suddenly, everyone begins talking at once.
Logan was the first to speak. "It's been a long time since we've had someone to protect."
"Damn it," Rainier snaps. "I knew there was something strange about the way you've been acting. But I had no idea that was what it was." He shakes his head. "She has to leave."
"I know," I hiss, closing my eyes. "What do you think I've been saying."
"That's fucked up Dom," Bartlett complains. "That girl needs you. She's helpless. How can you just-"
"Oh come on B," Rainier interrupts. "This has been decided for years. We promised each other."
Bartlett pounds a fist down on the table in anger, his eyes full of fury, "I don't give a fuck what we promised each other! That girl's been through enough already! We can't just toss her out when-"
"What do you mean, been through enough?" Koda chimes in, eyes going dark.
"This is so fucked up. I don't want to go through anything like that night ever again," Quinn whispers. "But how can you just make her leave, Dom? Are you sure she's you mate?"
"Fuck that promise," Timmons declares. "And fuck that rule."
"Does she know?" James asks
"What does it feel like? Finding your mate?" - Andrew.
"Where is she now?" - Lief.
"I want to meet her." - Grant.
"Quiet, please just-" I start, but am interrupted by the buzz of my phone in my pocket.
Lifting the damn thing up to my face, my heart goes cold. A coil of fear snakes up inside of me and the entire room falls silent again. Suddenly I'm thinking of the black sedans we passed on our way here. Suddenly... they are all I can see.
"Draven?" I answer. "What's wrong?"

###>>>
Chapter Eighteen

**DRAVEN**
I knew it. He likes me.
I squeal to myself after the two of them leave. Smiling and dancing around the condo, I wash up what was left of our failed dinner and then head upstairs wanting to be clean and pristine for my night with Domonic. Even though I'm not planning to get naked for him, I need all surfaces of my body smelling like heaven and every inch of me soft as a baby's bottom.
So naturally, I get into the large jacuzzi tub with bubbles, bath salts, and a fresh new razor. I soak for about thirty minutes before hopping into the shower for a final rinse.
Wrapped in a towel in front of the mirror, I smile at my reflection. I'm not nearly as haggard as I  had been when I first arrived in this wonderful town. Studying my body, I realize something amazing. My bruises are practically gone. How in the world they had faded so quickly, I would never know.
Maybe because I haven't been stressed?
Or perhaps all the good food I've been eating?
Exiting the bathroom with a huge smile on my face, I slip on bright red thong and forgo the bra. Then I dress in a pair of lowrider jeans and a tight, vee cut black top. one that dips so low in the front that my nipples are barely hidden by the neckline. Grabbing my phone off the nightstand I hit Domonic's contact and traipse down the stairs. Realizing I probably shouldn't disturb his meeting just because I am dressed and ready, I don't make the call.
"Sometimes I can be so lame," I say to myself, just as the doorbell sounds.
*Who the hell can that be?*
I reach for the deadbolt to unlock it then my hand freezes on the latch. Something inside of me buzzes to life. A sliver of fear slithering up my spine.
The hairs on the back of my neck are standing at attention and I suddenly feel extremely alone.
*Don't panic, just breathe.*
It can't be Domonic.
It can't be one of his friends.
Maybe a neighbor? Or maybe a salesman?
Margo?
*Just answer the door.*
Raising my eyes to the peephole I peer outside.
Nothing. No one.
There's no one out there.
My eyes scan the giant windows, realizing for the first time that the shades are still open. The yard is clear. No one in sight. But something is nagging at me, and I am suddenly terrified.
I have felt this before. This sensation of fear, of being watched. Someone is out there, and they are watching me.
My ears begin ringing as I stare out at the foggy evening beyond the glass. I rip my eyes away and look down at the phone in my hand. Once again, I punch in Domonic's contact and this time I hit send.
It rings only once.
"Draven? What's wrong?"
"I-I'm scared."
"What?"
"Someone is here. They rang the doorbell, and I went to answer the door but-"
"Someone rang the doorbell?"
"Y-yes, but I checked and there's nobody out there. This might sound stupid but I-"
"Fuck I should never have left you alone!"
"What's wrong?" Says a voice in the background that I don't recognize.
"I’ll be there in two minutes. Do not hang up, do not move." Domonic commands.
"Okay," I whispers, spinning in a short circle to  scan all parts of the yard.
"Draven, are the shades still open?"
I can hear commotion on the other end of the line. Car doors slamming, people scrambling. It sounds like his entire meeting is heading this way.
"Y-yes."
He is driving, I can hear the screech of his tires through the phone.
"Good, now scan the yard and as slowly and carefully as you can. Take note of anything you see."
"O-okay."
My eyes are glued to the windows around me. Studying for any kind of movement in the trees or around the yard. The sound of angry sets of tires ripping up the asphalt fills my ears, and I began to breathe easier. But then, a large branch on the opposite side of one wall seems to shake with tremendous weight. As if, someone has jumped from it. As if...someone has been watching from the trees.
Just as I hear the sound of engines revving up the street, I whisper, "The trees... I think someone was in the trees."
"Which trees?" Domonic questions as headlights filled the driveway and his Hummer screeches to a halt in front of the condo.
But I can't answer him because the room is spinning, the adrenaline from moments ago falling away from my body as he and Bart bust through the front door.
"Domonic," I whimper, falling forward just as he reaches me at the foot of the stairs.
He cradles me against his chest, lifting me off my feet and carrying me toward the back of the main house. "I've got you," he says, staring down at me with stormy gray eyes.
"Paul and Rainier are circling the block," Bart says. "Timmons and Quinn are scouting the woods. Everyone else is surrounding the outer walls."
"Check the condo," Domonic commands and Bart's concerned face disappears.
Domonic punches a code into the panel on his back door and it clicks open so that he can carry me over the threshold and into the warmth of his house.
"I shouldn't have left you," he hisses, taking a seat on his leather sofa, with me on his lap. "This is my fault."
"Nothing happened," I whisper, my eyes falling shut with fatigue. "But - I'm so tired."
"It's okay baby. That's the adrenaline dying off. Did you see anyone?"
I shake my head no, my eyes closing heavily.. "But I think there was someone in the trees."
"I believe you," he says. "Just rest now. We'll talk about it when you wake up."
I smile as he rocks my body against his chest as if I am a small child. Suddenly I know I am in the safest place I will ever be. That Domonic's arms are the *only* things that can keep me from danger. 
"All clear Domonic," I hear Bart say.
"Damn it!" Domonic hisses. "There were two black sedans with out of state plates down the street when we left. See if they're still there. If they're not? Find them."
"Out of state plates?" I whisper into his chest as I fall deeper and deeper into the blackness of sleep.
And somewhere out in the woods, I think I hear a wolf howl.

###>>>
Chapter Nineteen

**DOMONIC**
An hour later I am still sitting on the couch. Draven fast asleep and wrapped in a blanket next to me. For some reason, I can't stop touching her, even as she sleeps. I stroke her hip over the blanket as the rest of my pack crowds the room.
"What did you find?" I ask quietly, not looking up from her face.
"Nothing yet," Logan answers, taking a seat on the armchair across from me. "She's beautiful."
My eyes shoot his way, and I swallow my initial anger by gracing him with a fake smile. "I know."
"Rainier has got the entire department scouting for all black sedans with out of state plates in the vicinity. He should have a list for us soon enough." James states, entering from the kitchen to stand and gawk at Draven.
"You can all stop staring at her now. It's beginning to piss me off."
"Right," Andrew says making his way toward the front door. "Well, I'm going to get some things from my place so that I can stay at the condo for a few nights."
"You're what?" I snap.
"She needs more protection than just you, Domonic. And I think I speak for everyone when I say, what happened tonight cannot happen again."
I stand up. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"It means we're all in this together," Paul hisses, standing between me and the insubordinate asshole at my front door. "It means, she's worth our protection."
I nod, "Right. Okay." Glancing down at Draven, I say, "Quinn, you go and get some things too. You can stay in the guest room for a few days, while we figure this all out. Bartlett, go with him and fill him in on the extras while you're out."
"What extras?" Quinn queries, but I don't answer him. I'm too ashamed.
How do I explain that I left me mate - who has been running from her abusive stepfather - all alone so that we could discuss her from four miles away? I can't. So I don't.
Logan edges in from the kitchen, "I'd like to meet her, tomorrow. If I may. I mean, you are going to keep her, aren't you?"
All eyes fell on me and I turn toward Draven.
*God, I want to.*
But, if I were to keep her, I'd have to tell her what I am, and if she doesn't want me after find out? I don't know that I could live with myself.
"You know I can't," I say.
"That's bullshit," Logan hisses.
I stand glaring down at Logan and say, "Whatever I decide to do, is what I decide to do. We all promised years ago, we weren't going to take any mates."
"But that was before and we're not the same as we used to be. We have better system than our dads did. And if she really is your mate, then she's our queen, and you don't get to be the only one to decide how we protect her."
I chuckle, "Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?"
"Think of it like this, Domonic. What if she meets someone else out there after you've let her go? Are you going to be able to stomach that?"
I'm three seconds from knocking this idiot through the wall. "You don't think I've thought of that? Fuck you," I snap. "Get out."
"Fine, but I'm going to be staying in the condo too. At least until we find out who tried to get in tonight."
Before I can argue, Paul steps between us. "He's right Domonic. Let's just focus on her protection for now. We can talk about the other stuff later."
"I'm going to take her to bed. You sort the rest of these assholes out." Then I lift Draven into my arms and carry her upstairs to my room."
She doesn't so much as stir. She must have been really scared for it to have drained her so badly.
Tucking her into my bed, I place a kiss on her forehead and head back down the stairs while dialing Rainier.
"What's up?" He answers.
"Did you ever get that marriage certificate? We need that name."
He groans. "Not yet. But I'll check again once I'm back in the office. Maybe you should just ask her for it."
"She doesn't like to talk about it."
"Well maybe it's time that she does."
"Right," I sigh. "Anything on the sedans?"
"Rental cars. I'm heading to the agency now to see if I can get some information on the few that we've found."
"Good. Call me when you know something."
I hang up the phone and look around at my living room. Quinn, James, Logan, Bartlett, and Andrew have all gone. Grant and Paul are whispering over a pot of coffee in the kitchen.
"What are you two cooking up?" I ask with a sigh.
"Logan's right, Domonic," Paul states. "You can try and fool yourself into thinking you'll be able to make her leave, but I know it's bullshit. You haven't let her out of your sight since you found out she didn't get on the train."
I let out a frustrated groan. "What the fuck is your point?"
"My point," Paul taunts smugly. "Is that when we made that promise all those years ago, we were raw with pain from losing our moms. None of us really knew what we were thinking. Now, it's been years, and maybe..."
"Maybe what? You want to put Draven in the same position our moms were in five years ago?" I snap. "We still don't even know who lit that fire! And what if Draven doesn't want me? Have you thought of that?"
He laughs. "Oh, she wants you. We both know it. That's not the problem. You're afraid she won't accept what you are."
"Shut up Paul. Go home. I'm tired and I don't want to think about it right now."
"Right, well, I'm going to head back to the bar and close things up for Bartlett. I'll meet her tomorrow," Grant says. "Unless she isn't going to work there anymore."
"Fuck no. She's not working."
"No, no, wait a minute!" Paul says. "Maybe that's exactly what she needs to do. Because if the person who was here tonight was someone her stepfather sent for her - maybe we shouldn't be looking for them at all. Maybe we should be waiting for them to come looking for her."
As much as it bothers me, he has a point. "Call Rainier. Tell him not to go to the rental agencies. In fact, let everyone know to stop looking so that we don't scare them away. Because, if it is her stepfather, he doesn't have a clue who he's dealing with." I smile. "Thank you for reminding me why I chose you for my best friend."
Paul laughs, "Asshole."
Grant nods. "This time when they come for her, we'll be ready."
*Famous last words.*

###>>>
Chapter Twenty

**DRAVEN**
I feel like I am floating in the fog of the pine forest when I wake up. The room is dimly lit, the burn of scented candles the only light in the room.
My mind tracks back to what I remember last. Being in Domonic's arms as he held me against his body on his couch. Glancing down, I notice I am still fully dressed, but I am also wrapped like a burrito in a soft fur throw and no longer in his arms.
I'm in Domonic's room.
But where is he?
I can hear voices floating up from the open doorway and I stand as carefully as I can to make my way down to them.
"You need to try and get her to talk to you about her stepfather." Paul's voice wafts my way as I enter the open upstairs hallway.
Why are they discussing my stepfather?
"Shut the fuck up Paul, I know that." Dominic says as I begin my descent into the living room.
It is open floorplan, so I am able to see all three men in the kitchen as I make my way downstairs.
A devilishly handsome man, with milk chocolate skin and hypnotic hazel eyes, smiles at me from behind the kitchen island. "Hello Draven, nice to finally meet you," he says, taking a few strides forward to grab my hand and guide me down the last few steps. "My name is Grant, I'm a fireman."
He lifts my hand to his lips, but Domonic snatches it before he can kiss my wrist. I blush, laughing as Grant holds his hands up in surrender.
"No kissing," Domonic says. "Not for you, Mister I'm a fireman."
"What's going on?" I ask, letting Domonic lead me into the kitchen.
"Nothing," Domonic chides. "Would you like some coffee?"
"How are you feeling Draven?" Paul inquires gently, concern in his eyes.
"Better. But I'm still a little shaken up." I take the cup of coffee Domonic offers me and try to control my body's immediate response to his standing so close. I look up at him, noting his lack of eye contact with me as he places one hand on the small of my back in an attempt to guide me back toward the living room. "Why were you guys talking about my stepfather?"
"Have a seat," Domonic says, ignoring my question.
*Oh fuck no. I'm not your child. You will answer me.*
"Okay, but I still want to know why you were talking about my stepfather."
Paul clears his throat, "Grant and I were just leaving. We'll see you both tomorrow."
"Goodnight Draven," Grant says, blowing me a kiss as the two of them headed out the front door.
"Jesus," Domonic snaps, shoving Grant out the door. "Get out."
Heading back over, Domonic takes a seat next to me on the couch, the movement of his abdominal muscles flexing deliciously behind his shirt. "Are you cold?"
I shake my head. "No. I want the answer to my question, Domonic. Why were the three of you discussing my stepfather?"
He sighs, then reaches over to take the coffee out of my hands and place it on the glass end table. "Tonight, when I left for the meeting, there were a couple of cars on the road with out of state plates and-"
"You're wondering if it was him that came to the door. Is that it?"
He clenches his jaw, not answering.
"Domonic?" I urge.
He lifts his eyes to mine. "The thought had crossed my mind."
"I'm not ready to talk about him," I hiss, closing my eyes. "I don't want-"
"You don't want to talk about it. I know. But if I'm going to protect you from him, I need to know who I'm dealing with."
"Protect me from him?" I scoff, shaking my head in frustration. "I never asked you to do that."
He chuckles humorlessly. "I know you didn't. But I'm going to anyway."
"Why?" I ask, my eyes narrowing into slats. "Because you feel sorry for me? You didn't give a fuck what I was running from when I first got here. You just wanted me to leave. Why do want to protect me now? Just because you saw my bruises? Just be cause I kissed you on your goddamned boat?"
He shakes his head, closing his eyes. I can tell he's trying to be patient with me, but what he doesn't know is that I am doing the same with him. *He can't protect me from my stepfather. No one can.* 
"No," he says, reaching over to pull me onto his lap, something he's becoming more and more comfortable doing, it seems. Not that I completely mind the act.  I mean, he has a *magnificent* seat. "If you're not ready to talk about it yet, then I won't make you."
"Thank you" I say, placing my head on his shoulder. The warmth of his chest heats my face and I watch as his steady breaths become quicker.
"I don't want you alone at all until I find out if it was him or not."
I nod, agreeing. "But promise me that you'll tell me first if you do."
My stepfather is dangerous. He is not someone I want around me or anyone else I care about. I didn't really think it was him that rang the bell, but if it was, I would have to leave. I'm not going to risk anyone getting hurt because of me.
"I want you stay here with me - not in the condo," Domonic states.
I smile. "You mean, you want to sleep with me?" I tease, lifting my head to stare at the muscles of his neck.
Something comes over me, igniting a bravery in me as my hunger for him reaches a peak. Leaning up to place my lips on his throat. I suck on his flesh, taking the smooth softness of his skin into my mouth and nibbling gently. His body tenses and he groans, his hands clutching my body to his. I can feel his dick hardening beneath me at arapid pace and the more I kiss him, the tighter his grip becomes.
"Draven," he hisses. "One of the guys will be here any minute and if you keep doing that-"
"If I keep doing what?" I say, turning to face him and straddling his lap.
"Shi." He stares down at my cleavage as if he has just noticed how low-cut my top is. He slants his head to one side, studying me as he clenches both my hips in his hands. Licking his bottom lip and biting down gently, he thrusts his hips upward and I roll against his growing erection. "Fuck," he says. "You are too beautiful to be real."
*And you are too big to be.*
I whimpers at sheer length of his hardness as he guides me into a steady rhythm, grinding me down on his lap. I lean forward to nibble his ear lobe and whisper, "You didn't think so when I first got here."
"I did think so," he groans, hands steadily kneading my hips as they slide over my ass. "I knew I would want you too much. That's why I wanted you to leave." He continues stroking me up and down my back, locking on the top of my shoulders and pressing me downward, causing me to moan in pleasure.
"You told me I didn't have what it took to work at your club," I pant out, pushing myself against him in punishment for all the torture he's building between my thighs.
"I lied," he growls pulling my body in closer. "I would have lost my mind if I saw you working in my club."
I continue to bitch at him, still writing on his lap, still panting out my words. "You didn't want to help me. You wanted me gone and-"
"Not true," he hisses, gripping the back of my head to bring my throat to his lips. He begin to suck viciously as the friction grows stronger between us. "I just knew how dangerous you would be."
"Dangerous?" I whimper, as his hands slide in the back of my top.
"Fuck yes, dangerous." He strokes the bare skin of my back and I fall forward to press my breasts against his powerful chest.
*I wonder if he realizes how easy it would be to pop one of my nipples out of this top.*
"Then why did you tell me to leave?" I moan as his kiss travels lower, over my collarbone and toward my breasts. *Yes, that's it. I want your mouth right fucking there.*"Domonic?"
His eyes flare bright as he dips a finger into the top of my blouse to crest the hardened bud of my nipple. "Fuck." He strokes the finger over toward my shoulder like he is going to pull my tops down and I rock my chest toward his mouth.*He's going to do it. I want his mouth on my right now.* "I didn't want you to leave, I was just-"
"Ahem! Hello!" A stranger's voice sounds and my body freezes. Eyes popping open I spy tall body builder of a man standing near the back door waving at me. "You must be Draven, I'm Quinn. Sorry to interrupt, but the front door was locked."
"Hello Quinn," I frown, deflating. "Nice to meet you."
"Fuck," Domonic curses, his arms closing around me to hold me in place when I try to get up. "Are my windows dirty or something?"
"Uh, no." Quinn replies, confused.
"Then is there any reason why you couldn't have waited in your car for a few more minutes, Quinn?" Domonic asks, hands still clamped tightly over the back of my ass.
Quinn laughs. "I hope for her sake it, what you were planning would have taken more than just a few minutes Dom."