Damien's Promise: A Dark Romantic Suspense (VENGEANCE Book 1)

by Vic Tyler

  “I know what’ll get you springing right back up.” Her tone is dripping with suggestion.

  My face twists into a scowl. “That’s fucked up, even for you.”

  “Don’t think she’s ready to learn what gets you off?” She giggles. “That’d ruin her image of big brother, wouldn’t it?”

  I grimace. For someone who thinks kissing and hugging equate to dating, yeah, probably. She’d never look at me the same way again.

  And…

  I don’t know how I feel about that.

  I mean, there are just some things that should be kept behind closed doors.

  Hell, it’s not shit I would’ve shared with my own sister either. Or my parents.

  But if she knew how fucked up I am — how monstrous and depraved my desires are and what fuels my lust — she’d never speak to me again.

  Maybe it’s just me being selfish, but I don’t want to see her with that look of fear in her eyes. I don’t want to be put on the same level as the Stepanovs in her mind.

  With that thought, even though I wasn’t in the mood to fuck before, any little spark of lust that could’ve possibly flinted fizzles out completely.

  “Shut up and go to sleep, Kitty,” I grumble, rolling over.

  “We can go to your room.”

  “No.”

  “Boo.” I can hear the words come out of her pout.

  She’s fucking insatiable. I’m pretty sure she fucked her mark earlier today, although her targets usually aren’t degenerate enough to satisfy exactly what she needs. Which is why we make such a good pair.

  In bed, at least.

  “Big brother is so boring,” she whines.

  A groan escapes me.

  Even though she’s a couple years older than me, Kitty can be real fucking immature sometimes. It’s one thing to roleplay or call each other names when we’re alone, but what if Adriana wakes up and hears this shit?

  It’s like she has no sense of responsibility.

  Jesus, who the fuck am I to berate Kitty on being responsible? Since when the fuck did I ever care?

  Slipping out of bed, I tread away silently. “I can’t sleep here. I’m going back to my room.”

  Before Kitty can respond, I close the door behind me.

  She seems to like Adriana, so I’m not worried about her doing anything she shouldn’t. Besides, she won’t disobey West either, so there’s nothing to be worried about.

  Not in that regard.

  It does concern me about where all my thoughts go whenever I’m around Adriana.

  I don’t know who I am anymore. Who I’m supposed to be.

  She makes me think that maybe there’s more to life than sating my bloodlust, hunting people down, and getting everything I want in any way I can get it. No matter the cost.

  She makes me think that there are more important things than everything I’ve been fighting for these past six and a half years. Like rising in the ranks of Venti and killing West.

  She makes me think that West might not be as bad as he seems.

  And sometimes, she makes me forget that I’m here to avenge my family.

  But I can’t lose sight of that.

  I’m not doing this just for myself. I’m doing it for my father who only wanted out of this fucked up world, for my mother who wished for a life with the man she loved, and for Elena, my sweet, innocent sister who died long before she was killed.

  My life is not mine. It belongs to those who are dead and long gone, to bring a little bit of justice on what unfairly happened to them.

  It’s my only mission. The one thing I must do before I die.

  And no matter how innocent and blameless she is, even if she’s a casualty in it all, I can’t let a little girl get in the way of that.

  chapter seventeen

  A few months later

  As soon as the bell rings, I bolt out of the classroom and sprint around the corner, away from anywhere the teachers might pass through in the next few minutes.

  I aced my biology exam! Like, actually aced it!

  All those superfluous study sessions in the dungeon with Mach paid off. He’s a little too eager to show me real–life demonstrations when it comes to biology and chemistry, but I guess they worked. And even though he doesn’t act like it, I know he’s going to be proud of me.

  But first, I text Damien.

  Me

  I got 100% on my bio test!

  My foot taps impatiently as three seconds go by. Four… Five… Ten… Fifteen…

  Argh… It’s been a whole twenty–five seconds.

  “St. Celeste!” A sharp bark has me jumping out of my skin and shoving my phone into the waistband of my skirt.

  When I whip around, a sharp whack on my forehead has me seeing stars and nearly falling back.

  “Ow, what the hell, Addy?” Jenny grumbles, rubbing her forehead.

  I groan, clutching my own.

  Since my parents were high–profile, West gave me a new identity under ‘Adriana St. Celeste.’

  Only the Twelve know who I really am, and even when they call me by my last name, it’s always in private.

  The rest of the deviants don’t know, and if they call for me, it’s either ‘Adriana’ or ‘hey, you.’

  Wincing, I poke at the sore spot.

  Hopefully it doesn’t bruise. Otherwise, everyone at home is going to get all pissy and come to school looking for a fight.

  “Who were you texting?” Jenny’s moved on from our bruising collision, her eyes twinkling at the potential of some juicy gossip. “Who’s Damien? Your boyfriend?”

  “No!” My word bursts out, aghast.

  Some of the other students passing by eye us judgmentally.

  Oops.

  Lowering my voice, I say, “He’s just someone I know.”

  “Uh huh. Just ‘someone’?” Jenny smirks knowingly. “That’s why you were waiting for him to respond?”

  My phone pings, and I whip it out immediately.

  Damien

  Nice

  I let out a loud groan.

  Seriously? That’s it?

  Ping.

  Damien

  Proud of u

  God, he’s so simple.

  But my face splits with a wide smile.

  When Jenny peeks over to try and read my phone, I stash it behind me.

  I know she’s going to ask questions anyway, but she’ll make fun of me for getting happy at something so ordinary.

  Jenny was my first friend at school. As the daughter of a Fortune 100 company CEO, she has everything she could ever want, and her biggest problem in life is whether Niall Horan is going to bring Harry Styles to her birthday party.

  For some reason, she persistently bugged me from the moment we met. At first, it was to ask to look at my homework, and then she started talking about boys and complaining about her parents, and before I knew it, we were sitting together for lunch every day.

  “Not fair,” she whines. “I tell you everything that happens between Henry and me.”

  My eyes roll to the back of my head. She shares way too many details about how good of a kisser her new boyfriend is, how much he likes her boobs, and how excited she is to move onto ‘hand stuff’ when they go on their next date.

  It’s kind of endearing how innocent she is about all that, but at the same time, she’s worlds more experienced than me when it comes to actual dating, so I actually learn a lot from being around her.

  “That’s different. He’s not my boyfriend,” I say pointedly, waving my phone.

  When she steals it from my hand, I leap forward, crying out, “Hey!”

  Even though I’m fast, I’m nothing compared to Jenny when she’s jumping on a hot piece of gossip.

  She curls into a ball like a pill bug, shoving my phone in her lap so she can avoid my hands.

  There isn’t much to read since Damien’s not a big texter. It sucks especially because he’s been away for the past couple of weeks.

  This is the longest
he’s been gone from the mansion, but there was a situation down in Phoenix, so he and a couple of the other Twelve and some of their deviants went to go figure it out.

  I don’t know much more than that. They tried to play it off like it’s some vacation, but seriously, how dumb do they think I am?

  When she’s done, Jenny lifts her head and holds out my phone, grinning smugly as I snatch it back. “So that’s the boy you like, huh?”

  I scowl. “He’s just a… a…”

  I don’t even know what he is.

  Damien isn’t my bodyguard. West hired an outside ex–military man named Tom to act as my chauffeur and watch over me whenever I leave the complex. The deviants are too busy committing crimes and felonies to drive me to school and wish me a good day and good luck on my exams.

  But it’s not like Damien’s my friend either. At least, I don’t think so.

  Maybe the closest thing would be something like a sibling. He babies me a lot, which bothers me, and I want him to take me more seriously. It’s not like I asked for a big brother.

  “He’s the guy you liiiiike,” Jenny sings.

  “No!”

  She looks pointedly at me. “Do you always look for him when he’s around?”

  I roll my eyes. Yeah, but that’s because we’ve spent so much time together. And he’s one of the younger people in the complex, one of the ones who actually talk to me.

  “You always want to talk to him and tell him all your good news first?”

  I pause. Well, I just did, didn’t I?

  “He makes you smile even though he doesn’t do anything special?”

  Uncertainty creeps through me.

  Depends what you’d call ‘special.’ Considering it’s Damien, the small things like him patting my head or poking my cheek or buying me ice cream are pretty special.

  “You want to know everything about him?”

  Only because he doesn’t tell me anything of his own accord. I mean, none of the other deviants do either, but Damien in particular…

  “Touching him makes you happy, and him touching you makes you even happier?”

  My cheeks start to feel a little warm.

  I don’t like where this is going…

  “You get the warm fuzzies inside when he talks to you, teases you, hugs you?”

  I wave my hand frantically. “Okay, Jenny, stop —”

  “You want to kiss him, hold him, and sleep with him?”

  Heat bursts into my face when I remember that time I crawled into bed with him and Kitty a while ago.

  And how disappointed I was to find out that he was gone when I woke up.

  Jenny gasps. “You dirty girl. You slept with him?”

  “No!” I yell, indignantly. I clap my hands over my mouth as people start to look at us funny. Jenny’s smug face is telling of the dirty thoughts running through her mind. “I was having a nightmare, so he let me sleep in the same bed.”

  With him and his girlfriend. Nothing sexy about that.

  Sexy?

  Why would it be sexy?

  Ugh, Jenny has me thinking weird thoughts now.

  “That doesn’t mean I like him,” I argue, tugging at my neckline. Sweat dews on the back of my neck. Geez. Is it just me, or is it getting hot in here? “We’re just close.”

  “Uh huh, sure. That’s why you’re blushing.” Jenny circles her finger around my cheeks. “You’re so innocent, Addy.”

  Even though I’ve been through a lot, I guess I still am. I’m pretty sure that’s how Damien thinks of me too.

  Innocent. Young. Child. Kid. Baby.

  “He thinks of me like a little sister,” I say lamely.

  “So then make him think of you as a woman.” Jenny bumps her hip into mine and winks.

  Do I want Damien to think of me as a woman?

  The answer is an immediate ‘yes’ in my head.

  Does that mean I like him?

  I don’t know. I like spending time with him. I trust him. And I do want to know more about him.

  And… hugging him does make me inexplicably happy. I always feel warm and fuzzy inside when he holds me. I guess I wouldn’t be opposed… to doing more…

  I swallow a hard knot in my throat.

  Maybe — just maybe — I do want to be seen as that kind of woman for Damien. One he’d be interested in.

  I mean, he’s with Kitty, and I’m not going to break them up.

  But… I at least want Damien to know that I’m not a child. That I don’t want to be a child in his eyes.

  Reluctantly, I ask Jenny, “How?”

  She studies me up and down before unbuttoning my white uniform dress shirt. I grab her hands and yank them off me, feeling my face heat up even more.

  “What are you doing?” I hiss.

  She rolls her eyes. “No one buttons these shirts as high as you do. We’re not in Catholic school, Addy.”

  “It’s the dress code!”

  “See, this is your problem. You follow the rules and think too much about what’s proper. Let loose a little. Show him a little cleavage, hike up that skirt. Make him see you as a woman.”

  Staring down at my flat chest and nonexistent hips, I feel my heart sinking to the pit of my stomach.

  Kitty has massive boobs and a curvy butt. I can’t compare at all if that’s the kind of woman Damien likes.

  “And if that doesn’t work —” Grabbing my face in her hands, Jenny puckers her lips and smooches the air between us. “Kiss him!”

  “I can’t do that!” I growl. “That’s so embarrassing!”

  Jenny shoves her fists on her hips. “Girl, it is the twenty–first century. Boys need a neon sign and Chris Hemsworth’s hammer to get the message to make the first move, so you need to Black Widow this shit and jump on him, wrap him in your little web, and eat him right up.”

  Sighing, I shake my head. “You’re crazy.”

  “Yes,” she says enthusiastically. “And you need it.”

  Maybe I do.

  chapter eighteen

  A few weeks later

  As soon as I step through the doors to the mansion, the faint scent of warm, sugary cinnamon wafts through the foyer and stirs the rumbling in my stomach.

  Mouth drooling, I run all the way to the kitchen and slip into the expanse, shiny, metallic space.

  Considering Hilda’s smug smile as she fans the immaculate, freshly baked apple pie in front of her, it doesn’t look like she’s going to swat me away for having some before dinner.

  If Damien were here, he’d probably pop out of the ceiling and stop me, but he’s still down south in Arizona, so too bad.

  He was supposed to return last week, but something must’ve happened down there, so he’s had to prolong his trip for a little longer.

  Which means more pie for me.

  As Hilda cuts me a slice, a stiff droning announcement on the TV and the maids shushing each other in the corner catches my attention.

  Usually, they watch Telenovelas or Korean dramas, but surprisingly it’s the news today.

  Curious, I slip off the stool and nudge my way next to Missy who glances at me with some surprise but flashes me a smile.

  The smile I return quickly falls from my lips when I see what’s on the screen. My body washes over with iciness as the blood drains from my face.

  Plastered on the television is one of the men who used to frequent me when I still lived on the streets.

  He worked for one of the Triads in the area as the owner of a ritzy restaurant, laundering their dirty money.

  All the men who visited me talked a lot, which was why I knew more about their businesses than I wanted to know. It’s probably why nothing the deviants say or do shocks me.

  But what does shock me is that the man is dead.

  Lining the bottom of the screen are more pictures of other familiar faces of the people who paid to use me. The owner of a prestigious bank. A renowned company executive. The consigliere of a local mafia family. And his wife. Drug kingpin. And e
ven some nobodies who sometimes stole the money and belongings I had on top of the services they demanded from me.

  Dead.

  They’re all dead.

  “The dirty scums deserved it,” one of the maids sneer, crossing her arms. The sliding text at the bottom says that each of them were found with a collection of child pornography. “Disgusting.”

  “Who do you think’s doing it?” another whispers as though she’s afraid of being heard by the killer.

  “No idea, but he ain’t scared of getting caught.”

  A video feed of a taped–off restaurant in the middle of a busy city street with police crowding it pops up on the TV.

  Apparently, the man was looking to expand his business in Phoenix and was killed while he was scouting locations.

  “Confident too.”

  “No way it’s one person doing this. Look at everyone who was killed. They had to have crazy security.”

  “Well, I’m sure any of them could’ve done it.” The maid jerks her head in the direction of the west wing.

  “Maybe. How much do you think that’d even cost?”

  “Might not be a contract killing. Could’ve been a hacker who traced them buying that shit or a vigilante who found out what they were doing.”

  Biting her nails, Missy suddenly mutters. “It wasn’t just a vigilante do–gooder. Whoever did it was real mad. Their bodies were all mutilated in the same way. That’s how the police know it’s the same person. Or people.”

  “Mutilated how?”

  She stiffens, hesitating as she glances around. “Their —” She motions below the waist. “— were stabbed and pinned to the ground with a knife. While they were still alive. Then, they were shot point–blank. Enough bullets to empty the magazine. Way more than you’d need to kill someone. Apparently, their faces were just holes when they were found.”

  “Well, that’s what a closed casket ceremony is for.”

  “How do you know that? They don’t share that shit on the news.”

  Missy shuffles uncomfortably. “I went on a few dates with someone on the police force. I don’t tell him anything that happens here, of course. No way I’m going to do that. But he tells me stuff from his job. They’re going crazy trying to figure this out.” She shakes her head. “But that’s not even the weirdest part.”