Damon
No sooner than her words filled the small gap of air between us, my lips crashed on hers, the sweet flavor of her mouth lurking behind pizza sauce and grease. I pried her lips open with my tongue, taking out the pent-up frustration of thirty two fucking years on her mouth. She was surprisingly compliant, momentarily letting the walls around her fall. For me.
I restrained the urge to shove the table aside and pull her onto my lap and took my time, exploring each crevice. She reciprocated heartily, making small happy noises which I engulfed with my mouth. I deepened the kiss and her hands pulled my collar closer, tugging me firmly towards her. Her kiss drugged me, pulled me in so deep that I knew I could never ever let go of this feeling every again.
I certainly never thought I would kiss Ariadne Ryder–the girl so hysterically off-limits for me–in a decrepit diner in the middle of nowhere.
I spent my whole life wondering how this woman tasted. She tasted like the best thing I ever fucking had.
Hushed whispers and camera flashes brought us back into reality and she pulled away abruptly, resting her forehead on mine. When she raised her eyes to meet mine through long, thick lashes, there was a glimmer of sadness.
Her favorite place wasn't so secret anymore. She couldn't be the nobody she wanted to be so badly. Random people had taken plenty of pictures that would no doubt be plastered across the front pages of the newspapers and tabloids first thing in the morning.
For the life of me, I couldn't seem to care. My disregard for the consequences alarmed me; I was always someone who cherished being unknown. But she cared and that made it important to me.
My blood boiled with rage. If I could take out every single person in this diner and have it just be the two of us, kissing or not, I would do it in a heartbeat. Governing my anger, I quickly got up and offered her my hand. She took it quietly and we left the rickety diner without a second look back.
Walking swiftly on the busy street (at 2 AM), I pulled her alongside me, only letting go of her hand when she slid it up my arm, curling around my bicep and holding me close. She didn't ask questions, the sound of her heels clacking against the pavement the only noise between us.
When we were far enough away from Mario's and in the middle of a sidewalk near Flora, dimly lit by the flickering lights of a closed theater, I stopped and turned around, looking at her for the first time since we rushed out.
Those soft brown eyes were enormous, taking in my face, trying to figure out my emotions. They were an exhilarating concoction–filled with so much affection and remorse at the same time.
She stepped closer and rested her forehead on my chest. I dropped my chin against the crown of her head. Slowly letting my arms wrap around her, I held her in place. She didn't cry, speak or move apart from her slender arms snaking around my back. She pulled me in tighter and I obliged, letting my hands run through her hair and rest at the nape of her neck.
My skin burned at every point of contact between us, unable to comprehend her even letting me touch her the way she was. An uncomfortable edge set under my skin when I realized that if I died like this, I'd be more than happy to go. I didn't want anything–didn't need anything other than her in my arms, the smell of roses in the air, and those fucking eyes.
I was definitely having a heart attack from the fucking pizza.
We walked back to Flora in silence, but her arm never unraveled from mine, except for when she dug in her purse to give a homeless mother on the sidewalk a $100 bill. Fishing her keys out of my pocket, I opened the passenger side door and she slid in, no argument.
Ariadne listened to no one and did whatever she wanted, except with me. She listened to me. It made me on top of the fucking world.
As I drove us back to my house, she didn't say a word, letting me take her wherever. Her head rested against the window in silence, a small smile curving her lips as she drank in the sights. Even at this absurd hour, the city was lit up bright.
"I love this city, I always have," she said silently, not turning toward me. "It's so pretty at night."
I nodded—unsure what to say, but also losing my mind that she was just existing in my space.
"Do you remember when we were kids, your father used to take the six of us to get ice cream really late?"
I smiled. I remembered. I didn't know she did. My father was a constant fixture in not just our lives but also the Ryder siblings—and Francis because he was everywhere Bella was. Father was fully aware of how fucked-up of a dad his best friend was and did everything he could to compensate for the shitty father figure they had in their life. Of course, now I knew that my father had known Ariadne was so miserable she tried to run away from her own home twice as a kid.
Irritation ran through me and in an effort to quell it, I said, "You'd always get strawberry."
"You noticed?"
"Of course, I did."
"We were hardly kids, Damon," she practically scoffed. "You never cared for me."
"Is that what you think?" I asked, frowning. She turned in her seat to face me, her eyes flickering with interest.
How the hell was I going to show this girl that it was always her?
"I meant it. I always saw you."
The silence as she let that statement settle in her mind was heavy before she whispered, "Thank you for tonight."
"For what?"
"For dinner. For letting me talk to you. For using your words."
Discomfort gripped me by the throat, because was I really such an asshole that she needed to thank me for doing the absolute bare minimum?
"You can always talk to me, princess," I swallowed, focusing on the city lights. "I know I don't say much but I will always listen to you."
I meant every word. The Damon Hale who would crush someone's throat if they talked too much at me was currently left behind at the diner. And all I wanted was for her to talk to me. I never wanted it to stop. This was the most humanity I had ever shown anyone other than my sister and it was pathetic.
All I was doing was offering her a friendly ear. And yet this was the nicest thing I had ever done.
Kind as ever, she appreciated it. I could tell from the way she looked at me.
"Will you talk to me too?" She asked in a soft voice.
A smile pulled at my lips. "What do you want me to talk about?"
"Anything. Everything. I just want you to talk."
"Yes," I answered immediately. "For you? Yes."
Surprise flickered in her expression before she reached over and took the hand that was resting on my knee to clasp it firmly in both of hers. Momentarily bringing it to her lips, she pressed them against my knuckles and then brought it down to her lap, the protective and almost possessive hold burning my skin.
On the ride to nowhere in particular, we simmered in what we did best: comfortable, companionable silence and took in the lit-up streets of downtown. Her thoughts wandered as she rested in the passenger seat, but she never loosened her grip on my hand. I made absolutely no effort to pull it away. I was fully aware that she was just staring at me quietly, but I oddly didn't feel weird about the undivided attention.
In the moonlight, she looked divine. Her celestial features and heart lived up to her name. She'd always been beautiful to me, so much so that everything else dimmed when she was around. I'd always thought it was ironic, seeing as she was always the one who wanted to be lost in the background, the one no one ever saw, but to me, she was the only fucking person in the room.
"Damon?"
"Princess?"
"Brooklyn Bridge Park has a skyline view to die for, especially at night. Do you want to see it?" The hopeful smile she gave me made my heart clench in my chest.
How the fuck did anyone ever say no to her? If she was around in my life more, that was going to be a definite problem.
I squeezed her hand in mine, taking an exit and driving us straight there.
"Have you ever been before?" She asked.
"Not at night."
"Oh, it's so beautiful. The city and the sky look amazing. I'll show you," she grinned, perking up, before she told me stories about it.
When we got there, it was dark outside and no one was around, which was to be expected at nearly 3 AM. She stepped out giddily when I opened her door, but before I could turn back around to walk in, she placed a hand on my chest to stop me. I arched an eyebrow in question.
"Alright, this is your first time here at night, so you have to do it my way, okay?"
"And what does that entail?"
"You closing your eyes."
I tilted my head and looked at her dryly. Not a chance. A New York park this late at night? Dangerous for anyone, let alone a Hale and Brooklyn was closing in on Giovanni territory.
"Come on, pretty boy." She stomped her heel against the floor in adorable agitation. I shook my head and chuckled under my breath, still not closing my eyes. In a second, she huffed and pulled my tie off my neck in one quick motion.
"What are you—"
"Well if you won't listen, I'll have to make you," she cut me off, stepping closer and putting my tie over my eyes.
My senses immediately heightened, putting me completely off guard and tense. Not being aware of my surroundings was a kiss of death for people like me. But losing my sight made me even more perceptive everywhere else.
Like the way her chest pushed up against me, the way her cheek touched mine as she reached around my neck, and the smell of roses from her all around me.
"Do you trust me?" She whispered into my ear, letting her hands fall gently onto my shoulders.
If this ended up being some elaborate ruse to deliver me to the Giovannis or kill me dead, I'd hand myself over on a platter. I wouldn't give a flying fuck.
At least I was wearing a good suit.
"Yes," I responded hoarsely.
Her lips pressed to my cheek as she gently slipped her hand into mine and guided me with the occasional there's a step here.
She let out a breath when we stopped. "Okay, lie down."
"I'm wearing Kiton," I frowned. "Your brother will kill me."
"Don't be afraid of my brother, pretty boy. Lie down."
"Ariadne–"
"I'll buy you another suit, Damon. Stop arguing with me and lie down," she laughed.
Because her laugh was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard, or because I would walk to the ends of the Earth for this girl, or because I knew for a fact that I never stopped loving her and I was falling deeper than I ever had before, I did.
"You're into some kinky shit, princess," I said wryly, resting my back onto the ground.
A second later, there was music in the air. I assumed it came from her phone. She played a song I knew well only because she spent hours in her bedroom as a kid, blasting it so all of New York could hear.
Experience by Ludovico Einaudi filled the air. My chest relaxed and I released the fist I didn't realize I was holding.
Then, her face hovered over mine, her lips pressing softly against the corner of my mouth. This was the way I want to leave this Earth. Before I could pull her face closer for a proper kiss, she broke away and turned my face upward.
"When I was a kid, and my dad and I got into a fight, or when I missed my mom, or when I used to think about running away, I used to come here," she whispered. "I go to Central Park with Christian. But this place? It's all mine. And I'm sharing it with you."
"Why?"
"I like you," she said, as if she was reciting a coffee order, fully unaware how much that one stupid three-word statement would affect me. "Say it back, you idiot."
"You sound like Bella."
"Well, Bella always gets what she wants."
A laugh escaped me when I ground out, "You're alright too."
"I like your laugh. You should do it more," she said softly as her hands untied the blindfold around me.
When my eyes readjusted, I inhaled a sharp breath. I had lived in New York my whole life and had never seen stars like this. The city was always lit up, filled with bright lights in every corner and always alive. It made it hard to actually see stars.
But now, in complete darkness, I could see each one, luminous and perfect as if it was hand-placed there, just an open tapestry waiting to be explored.
Despite its beauty, there was only one thing I wanted to be looking it and when I turned, it was right there, smiling at me so wide, it was brighter than any of the stars twinkling above.
But I couldn't smile back. I was fucking paralyzed and could not, for the life of me, move a muscle. Looking at her without distractions, without anyone around, was a fucking blessing. How did I avoid this for the majority of my life? Why did I want to? That familiar rush of feelings bubbled in my stomach as I gazed at her face.
So beautiful. Regal. Divine.
Settling her head in between my neck and shoulder, she huddled closer, draping my suit jacket over both of us and placed a hand on my heart. I didn't know how checking a pulse really works but if she could feel how fast it was racing, she'd probably admit me to a hospital immediately. I kissed the top of her head gently, prompting her to move in closer as I wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
Bliss ran through my veins—a feeling I was entirely unaccustomed to.
"It's pretty, isn't it?" She asked.
I was still looking at her when I said, "Beautiful."
"You're not even looking," she laughed.
"Yes, I am."
For hours, we talked about work, family, food, Broadway shows–which I had never gone to for concern of being killed Abraham Lincoln-style but she made it sound like it was the epitome of fun–and everything we could possibly think of. The first rays of sunshine started to stream through the tall buildings of the New York skyline which suddenly seemed unimpressive compared to the infinite stars above.
She'd entered a deep REM sleep by the time I parked her Aston in front of my doors and it took me a full minute before I could unlink my hand from hers to carry her upstairs, wondering where the fuck I should put her.
Deciding that I didn't want to potentially walk in on my sister and my lawyer and weirdly feeling like a guest room was too impersonal, I set her gently on my own bed. I never let women in my bed. All my trysts were in hotel rooms owned by Christian because then I could dip whenever I wanted, no questions asked.
A sleepy moan escaped her when I settled her in the middle of my sheets, brushing those brown strands out of her face while trying not to lose my mind that she was in my room, in my space, and comfortable. Something like a smile tugged on my lips at how fucking ridiculous this day had been from the hours I'd spent with her to the fact that now, I knew what she tasted like—sweet and so fucking mine.
As I pressed my lips to her forehead, she clutched my collar in her sleep. The temptation to sleep beside her flooded me, but if I was going to get in bed with her, I wanted her to want it.
Instead, I passed out on the carpeted floor of my own room, pushing aside all the reasons why I shouldn't be getting involved with her and drifted off to the smell of roses.