Devil You Know(Lost Boys Book 1)(12)

“Damian is so hot. I’m going after that.”

My head snapped around to the skanky chick who was eyeing my boy. He wasn’t really mine, but I definitely saw him first.

“Me too, let’s make it a party,” her equally slutty friend purred as they high-fived each other while I battled the overwhelming need to yank their hair, hard. My heart pounded even as jealousy burned through me and my stomach clenched when Damian and the kid started to fight, bare knuckle, no holds barred. The kid moved around a lot, he was tall and lanky and had fast hands that repeatedly nailed Damian in the face and gut, but it was Damian I couldn’t pull my eyes from. He took the hits, like someone manning up to take his punishment, and yet the brutal attack didn’t seem to have any effect on him. He moved with deliberateness and control that made him look almost possessed. I had the sense that who he fought wasn’t what he fought. And when he struck, he was fast with so much behind his punches the other guy stumbled backwards from the bone-jarring hits. His opponent got in a double punch, one that halted Damian’s forward momentum and jerked his head back. He wiped at his nose and looked at the blood before turning his focus back on the one he fought. If I’d been that dude, I would have run away because Damian looked positively lethal—the sight of his blood only fired him up more. The fight lasted no more than ten minutes before Damian caught the guy under the jaw with a punch so vicious he was airborne before landing in a heap on the dirty cement floor. Damian stood in the center of the circle as his fans cheered his victory and he looked totally and completely alone. Cam and Anton appeared. Not alone, I liked that…a lot. They talked for a few minutes before shaking hands. Cam and Anton left together and when I turned my focus back on Damian he was gone. Before I could scan the crowd for him, a hand wrapped around mine...one with cuts and blood on the knuckles. It was Damian and he looked pissed.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

My heart hurt seeing his face—a cut near his left eye, blood smeared down his cheek and a blooming bruise on his jaw. “I heard you and Cam talking. I was curious.”

He had been walking me toward the exit but those words stopped him. His feet sort of rooted themselves to the concrete floor as his head turned in my direction. “So you walked here alone?”

“It wasn’t far.”

That wasn’t the right answer apparently because he hissed between his teeth. It wasn’t an actual word, just a release of frustration.

He started toward the exit again. “What are you fighting when you are out there?”

We had just reached the stairs when he pulled me behind them and pressed me up against the wall. “Come again?”

“When you fight, what are you fighting?”

“Not who am I fighting?”

“No, your opponent isn’t what you’re fighting.”

He leaned in and lowered his head to look me right in the eyes. “How do you know that?”

I gently wiped the blood from his face. “I know you.”

He had the strangest reaction to that. He closed his eyes, like he was in pain, and lowered his forehead to my shoulder. “This can’t happen.”

Those words caused a chill to move right down my spine. He was wrong. It totally could and should happen. “Why not?”

He lifted his head and for the first time I saw so much more in those eyes. “Cam is a good friend and your parents are like my own.”

“And?”

His lips brushed along my jaw and I had to lock my knees to keep from sliding down the wall. “And if I did to you all the things I wanted, I couldn’t sit at their table without them knowing that I claimed every part of you.”

I didn’t know what these things were, but I really, really wanted him to show me. “I’m still not seeing how this is a bad thing.” I had never had anyone look at me the way he was. Like I was a hot fudge sundae. I bit my lip because I was very close to begging him to kiss me. His eyes went to my mouth just as a sound rolled up his throat.

“One taste.” The words were more a growl as his fingers threaded through my hair and he palmed the back of my head seconds before his mouth claimed mine. I had never kissed a boy before; closed mouth kisses sure, but not open-mouth, tongue tying, halleluiah-inspiring kisses. I pressed into his body and I fit like I was made for him. His arm wrapped around my waist as he pulled me even closer to take the kiss deeper and all I wanted was for the world to stop so I could live in this perfect moment forever. My lips were sore and I was breathless and light-headed when he ended it.

“I need to get you home.”