Damien
Damien finishes the dishes and climbs into his car. As he starts the engine, Seraphine's voice fills his head, and he imagines himself sitting in a carriage instead.
Angered by his own thoughts, Damien fists his hair and blows out a harsh breath, peeling out of the driveway so fast he's sure he burns rubber.
Lyla just barely has enough time to open the gate before he's speeding off the property, through the woods and into town, towards his second club.
Atlantis is his pride and joy, even more so than Electra. The latter was actually Enzo's idea, something having to do with drawing in a younger crowd, college kids who want a fun night out. Atlantis, however, is more for his higher paying customers--those involved in a certain community.
Damien pulls into an open spot in the parking lot, avoiding the valet service, and tilts his head, inspecting the gaggle of people standing outside of his club. After a moment he nods to himself, satisfied with the sophisticated-looking guests.
He steps out of his car and shuts the door, pocketing his keys. He straightens his suit jacket and runs a hand through his hair, roughing it up. Damien lets out a sigh as the tall white pillars and arched entryway welcome him, and he prepares himself for the trouble his head of security, Wirt, had warned him about.
"Sir." The bouncer at the entrance greets him, and Damien unbuttons his suit as he nods towards the larger man that steps aside.
"Joey, where is your boss?" Damien asks once he climbs the last step, and Joey spares him a glance before resuming his intimidating glare at unwanted customers. Mostly college students gaping at the tall, beautifully constructed building they could only dream of getting into.
"Last I heard, he was at VIP, sir."
"Thank you, Joey." The man nods, and Damien walks briskly inside, immediately greeted by the flashing lights. He blinks a couple times, curses his past self for insisting that 'it's not a club if it doesn't have strobe lights', and pushes on towards the bead curtain. After a few seconds of navigation, he locks eyes with Wirt, who stands straighter under his scrutinizing gaze.
Damien's powerful presence causes people to unconsciously move away from him, and like Moses parting the Red Sea, he walks right through the crowd without uttering a single syllable.
When he reaches Wirt, his hands are casually in his pockets, hiding his tightly closed fists. His cool facade has been slipping all week, all because of his precious darling and her glorious fire. He never expected that fire to be aimed at him, however, and it was throwing him off completely.
Right now, he was sure his anger was showing, because Wirt couldn't look him in the eyes.
Good, thought Damien, giving in to his rage. Be fucking scared.
"Wirt, you said there was an issue?" Damien's voice, though calm and seemingly soft, cut through the music like a knife and Wirt physically winced before straightening his spine and pulling back the curtain so they both could step through.
"I did, sir. The past couple nights, a couple guys have been coming up to me and trying to bribe me for a room. Tonight, one of them brought a girl and it didn't look good."
Damien's chest constricted and he blew out a sigh through his nose. He tried not to convey his anger, but the way Wirt took a step back told him he wasn't concealing as well as he thought he was.
"And you let them bribe you, Wirt?" At this, Wirt flinched and raised a hand to scratch the back of his neck.
"Not necessarily, sir, but--"
"But fucking nothing, Wirt. If you accepted any amount of money from any of them, that's bribery, and I will know if you're lying to me. If you do choose to lie, you will face much worse consequences than simply losing your job." Damien's anger slips through before he can grasp it, and his voice gains volume and a razor sharp edge that has people from behind the curtain looking through it in apprehension.
Wirt's gaze meets his head on, and Damien appreciates his sudden backbone, but too little too late.
"One of them bribed me today, sir. The one who brought the girl. He said he was going to be fifteen minutes, and they've been back there for two hours. I haven't seen any of them come out."
Damien swears smoke comes out of his ears.
He lifts a hand to pinch his nose in an attempt to keep from uppercutting his head of security and breathes out slowly. "You haven't checked on them."
It isn't a question.
"No, sir. Frankly, I've been busy keeping watch over your guests and other staff members. A group of girls were harassing Flit earlier, and I had to step away to handle them. I must've lost track of time, but even if I hadn't, sir, I wouldn't have been able to leave my duties to check on a couple VIP guests."
Damien counts to ten and tries to think of the best way to approach this situation. He's quickly losing his grip on his anger and logic, having been pushed to the edge since the beginning of the week.
"Thank you, Wirt, for keeping watch over my club. I appreciate your stepping up for Flit, they're new, and anxious, and--just, thank you. But, you disrespected me by allowing trouble in my VIP section. You disrespected the other guests, on top of that." Wirt nods his head and clasps his hands behind his back, awaiting the final blow.
Damien opens his mouth to deliver it, when reasoning finally catches up to him and he sighs. "I'm demoting you. But--" he lifts a finger and Wirt's hopeful expression falls into a neutral one. "One more mishap, and you're done. I will not tolerate any further disruption in my club. Understood?"
"Understood, sir." Damien nods, runs a hand through his hair, and turns to the velvet hallway lined with doors.
"I'm going to deal with our unwanted guests." He says, and Wirt raises an eyebrow.
"Would you like assistance?" Damien gives a firm shake of his head, and Wirt steps back out into the main room, the tinkling of the beaded curtain following Damien as he moves deeper into the hallway.
His steps are slow and calculated at first, closely inspecting each room he passes. Damien's VIP guests are usually thoughtful of other guests and classy, so they don't like to be bothered. Damien apologies profusely every time he knocks on a door and asks if anyone's seen or heard any loud, raunchy men.
It takes him three rooms before someone helps him out.
A tall man sitting on the red velvet couch in the middle of the room grunts and stands, leaving his partner kneeling on the floor in front of the couch. Damien pays no mind to the submissive male on the ground, only focusing on the one coming towards him, an annoyed glint in his eyes.
"Yeah, heard a couple guys pass by here about two hours ago, talkin' bout some good pussy. I didn't see who was with 'em, didn't hear a feminine voice, but from the way they've been pounding the wall, it must've been out of this world. 'Was wondering when someone was gonna come tell 'em to shut up."
Damien sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He doesn't say a word, just simply points to the wall to his left and waits for the dominant's response. When the man nods, Damien reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, handing the man a crisp $100.
"Enjoy your stay at Atlantis, sir." Damien doesn't wait for the man's reply before walking away from the room and heading to the one directly next to it.
Before he makes it, the door is flung open and a streak of blonde runs right out of it.
Damien knows immediately by the way his gut drops and his heart races that it's his darling.
His eyes widen and he barely has time to open his arms before Seraphine runs right into them and crumples like a paper bag.
"H-Help, help, please, please," she begs him, clutching onto the lapels of his suit jacket and coughing between every word.
Damien is frozen in place, his mind blank, his eyes unseeing, until Seraphine lifts her head and her piercing blue gaze breathes life into him again.
Or, rather, breathes life into his rage.
"Seraph--"
"Oh, Sera! Don't take too long, girl! We don't like to be kept waiting," a male voice Damien doesn't recognize sings from further inside the room, but no matter how badly he wants to lift his head and put a face to this voice, he can't tear his gaze away from Seraphine.
Her silky blonde hair is matted and knotted; her black eye from a few days prior seems to have gotten worse, not better; there's a red streak on her cheek that looks suspiciously like a handprint; one of the straps of her red dress has been ripped off completely, the other hanging off her shoulder; the dress itself is torn in a jagged line up from the bottom right up to her stomach; there's blood on her thighs, and on top of that, she's missing both her shoes.
It takes Damien less than ten seconds to mentally catalogue all of the damage done to his goddess, and another three to decide how he's going to kill every single man in that room.
"D-Dam-Damien?" Seraphine struggles to get his name out, and Damien almost cries at the delicateness of her voice. She sounds so broken, so lost, not unlike how he was feeling not an hour prior.
"It's me, darling, I'm here. What--" he tries to ask what he already knows the answer to, but Seraphine whimpers and shakes her head as fast as she can. Her glacier eyes squeeze shut and her bottom lip trembles, and Damien pulls her into his chest.
"I'm right here, Seraphine. I'm right here. They can't hurt you anymore, not when I'm here." Seraphine clutches his jacket in her fists, every inch of her body shaking violently. Damien is careful not to hold her too tight as to hurt her, but she lets out a sob and he can't help himself. "Oh, darling."
Crude laughter pops their little bubble in that moment, and Seraphine clamps her lips shut, her grip on Damien tightening ever so slightly. The English professor swivels his head to the door and red fills his vision.
He pulls his hands from Seraphine and goes to the door, but Seraphine falls to the ground as soon as he steps away and he just barely catches her again.
"Okay, I've got you, you're going to be okay. I promise you're going to be okay, darling." Seraphine takes in a big gulp of air and turns her gaze on Damien.
"Take me home." She whispers, and he sucks in a breath. As if solidifying her words, Seraphine loops her arms around his neck and buries her face in his chest. "Take me home, Damien, please. I-I need to get away, away from h-here. From him."
"Anything, darling. Anything."