There’s a pause, and I can practically hear Zane weighing his words. “You might want to prepare yourself. The twins were there when she found the photos. She’s shaken up, but she’s holding it together for them.”
“I’ll be there in twenty.” I hang up before he can say anything else, my mind already racing.
I race to the safehouse as fast as I can. It’s a renovated Victorian, its weathered brick exterior blending into the quiet, tree-lined street. Large bay windows are reinforced with discreet security glass, and the surrounding yard is enclosed by a wrought-iron fence topped with subtle cameras.
Inside, the house is just as deceptive. The warm, polished wood floors and high ceilings give it an inviting, almost cozy feel, but with strategically placed panic buttons and reinforced doors.
The door to the study is cracked open, and I see Mia sitting on the couch, knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped tightlyaround herself. Her head is down, her hair spilling like a curtain over her face.
I step inside, closing the door softly behind me. “Mia.”
She looks up, her eyes red-rimmed, her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t hear you come in,” she says, her voice raw, like she’s barely holding herself together.
I move closer, lowering myself to sit on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. “Zane told me what happened. Are you okay?”
Her laugh is bitter, a sound that cuts deep. “Do I look okay? He’s been in my house, Damon. My bedroom. I don’t even know how to feel safe anymore.”
I reach out, hesitating for a moment before resting my hand lightly on her knee. She doesn’t pull away. “I’m not going to let him hurt you. I swear.”
Her lips tremble, and she looks away, biting down hard like she’s trying to keep herself from breaking. “You say that like you can stop him. Like anyone can.”
Something in me snaps, a fierce need to make her believe it, to make her feel something other than fear. “I will stop him, Mia. I don’t care what it takes.”
Her gaze snaps back to mine. “Why are you even here, Damon? After all these years? Why now? Why is fate so cruel?”
I don’t have an answer that won’t make this situation worse, so I do the only thing I can. I reach for her. My hand cups her cheek, and she leans into the touch, her eyes closing like she’s been starving for comfort. When she looks at me again, there’s a question in her eyes. A silent plea.
I don’t think. I lean in.
She gasps softly, her hands coming up to grip my shirt, pulling me closer. I don’t hold back, deepening the kiss, pouring every ounce into it.
Her mouth opens under mine, and I take the invitation, my tongue sliding against hers. She moans softly, the sound vibrating against my lips, and it’s everything I can do not to lose control. My hands move to her waist, pulling her against me, feeling the heat of her body through the thin fabric of her shirt.
“Damon,” she whispers against my mouth, her voice trembling with something that feels like both fear and need.
I pull back just enough to meet her gaze. “Tell me to stop, Mia. If this isn’t what you want?—”
She cuts me off with another kiss, fiercer this time, her hands sliding up to tangle in my hair. “Don’t stop.”
I don’t need to be told twice. My mouth trails down her jaw, finding the sensitive spot just below her ear. Her breath hitches, and her hands tighten in my hair as I move lower, kissing along her neck. She tilts her head, giving me better access, and I take full advantage, nipping and sucking gently at the delicate skin.
Her shirt slides down her shoulder, and I don’t stop myself from pulling it lower, revealing the curve of her breast. My mouth moves there instinctively, kissing the soft skin before taking her nipple into my mouth. She gasps, her back arching as I swirl my tongue over the sensitive peak.
“Damon,” she breathes, her voice breaking.
I want to give her everything, to make her forget every moment of fear and pain Jason has caused her. My hands slide down her sides, gripping her hips as I press her back against the couch. I kiss my way down her stomach, pushing her shirt higher as I go, until I’m kneeling in front of her.
She looks down at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her lips parted. There’s a vulnerability in her eyes, but also trust. A trust I don’t deserve but will do everything to earn.
“You don’t have to,” she says softly, but her voice wavers, and I can see the war inside her.
“I want to,” I say, my voice low and rough. “Let me take care of you, Mia.”
She nods, and I slide my hands under the waistband of her pants, pulling them down slowly. Her breath catches as I press a kiss to the inside of her thigh, then another, moving closer to where she’s already wet and ready.
When my mouth finally finds her, she cries out softly, her hands gripping the back of the couch. My tongue begins with a slow, deliberate glide over her, tasting her fully. Her hands tighten in my hair, and her hips jerk involuntarily.
“Stay still,” I murmur against her, the vibration making her shiver.
