Confessions of a Killer

26 Dollface

Charlotte:

Damien's hand in mine gives me the courage I need, squeezing his hand, attempting to not drown in the anxiety crawling through my insides like the little bugs I'd seen one time as a kid, scuttling underneath a rock I'd picked up. Each little multi-legged critter scattering at the first sign of light. My insides twisted violently, as if little rolly -pollies, worms and spiders are roving tunnels through my intestines trying to make it to safety.

There's no safety from this particular predator. It's not a curious child I want to hide from, dig a tunnel under the earth to find a sanctuary from. Oh no. It's my...ex? Is that what that hulking, gorgeous complete bastard of a man is?

Jasper Kincaid had been dead to me for the last five years, and not by choice. Yet the moment he comes back into my life, he fucks everything up.

I know my life hasn't been cupcakes and rainbows, but, dammit, I don't need to be shit on at every turn to cherish what I have and be grateful for it. I don't need to learn this lesson anymore!

Maybe it had been a bad idea to imply we could have anything like before, my brain hadn't caught up to my heart just yet. I know Damien doesn't want that. He'd said as much not too long ago, baring his soul for me.

"Only me." He'd whispered.

While I am damn happy that I could be his one and only, a sick twisted part of me still yearns for Jasper. My stomach clenched as confusion and guilt swept over me. Feeling small, almost ant like as I try to hide in the shaggy carpet while the vacuum of despair runs its course.

'You never had closure babe.' Damien's voice is soft in my head, I squeezed his hand, flushing with embarrassment, realizing he'd heard my inner thoughts. The small smile he throws my way is apologetic, as if he were in the wrong, not me.

I sighed. We both have a lot to work on. It's an unfortunate truth that we both end up biting more than we can chew, and when we choke on the bit that is just too much, we blame ourselves for not being able to take it.

I looked up at him, eyes wide, lips trembling. 'We need to change that belief.'

His breath hitched before he pulled me under his arm, wrapping his large appendage around my neck and scooting me closer. It made it slightly difficult to walk, I stumble slightly in the borrowed boots, squeaking as his other arm deftly reaches around, latching under my legs to pick me up in a bridal carry.

"Damien!" His response was to chuckle at my outburst. The stinker!

Pinching my ass as he shuffled me closer into his arms, he let go enough that my uncomfortably unstable self was able to snake my arms around his neck for support, twisting in his grip to glare at him. He grinned, flexing his body beneath mine in a show of strength.

His muscles against my body made something deep within me clench, a warmth spreading from my toes to my cheeks. I probably looked like I could be the medicine in the pepto bismol commercial's that I used to get glances at as a child. The memory oddly bringing back the scent of pine-sol, the cleaning solvent of my youth, used often in the attempts to keep an overcrowded foster home spotless.

The heat escapes my body, leaving me cold enough to shiver as I recall the time I'd been caught staring too long at the tv. The smell of pine-sol mixed with blood will always bring me back to that time. I've never used it as a cleaner since.

"I got you Doll-face."

It takes a second to register Damien's words. The nick-name tears a hole through my heart further, the shock of childhood traumatic memories, and the very adult pain ripping through me at its utterance nearly has me gasping. I swear even the people in the dining room beyond the double doors before us had heard my pulse stutter. Damien stopped short, amber orbs trained on my face, worried, his gaze searching.