Black Clover

by Celia Crown

  Chloe Evans.

  Information and background check says she’s a first-year college student with the pink-haired girl as her roommate. I read down the package of information and tilt the screen away from the prying eyes of the guard that handed me the tablet.

  This facial recognition system is only designed to get public information without prying into privacy issues and I wish I had this system installed with invasive programs to search for more information. I want to know everything about this girl; her life, habits, likes and dislikes, and I want to know what her status is.

  I pray so hard that she’s unattached, a dark possessive thought ensnarls my body as I want to shower her with expensive gifts and spoil her rotten.

  “Find out everything about her,” I growl, tossing the tablet to my guard and stalk off to find my little mysterious guest. I don’t look back because I know the guard will do as I say, he knows better than to question me in my own house.

  Chips clink down on another chip can be heard, my eyes are peeled open and programmed to find any green colors.

  The girl with pink hair catches my attention briefly and I raise an eyebrow at my personal bodyguard. It’s only the surface relationship between Falcon and I; he’s my bodyguard and I’m his employer, but we’re more friends and brothers from another mother than a professional work relationship.

  They’re awfully close, I muse to myself with a smirk.

  Falcon’s eyes meet mine and we hold a silent conversation, he’s going to be occupied for the rest of the night and I fucking knew it. That guy has little to no self-control when it comes to women and women loves him, but he’s good at his job as a personal bodyguard that it doesn’t hinder his ability to work.

  I let his philandering lifestyle go as long as it doesn’t fuck with my business.

  The woman with pink hair looks over and smirks at me, I cock an eyebrow at her conniving expression. It’s the same look the first time we made eye contact with my mysterious girl’s back to me, I had been staring at the back of her head and the pink-haired girl suddenly met my eyes. That look on her face should make me keep an eye on her, but I have more pressing matters to attend to.

  Making my way to another table and surveilling around the massive room, I don’t see a speck of green and disappointment drops to my stomach. I need to find her or else I’d go mad with this suspense that someone I’ve never spoken to can make me feel things that I’ve never felt before.

  I’ve been working too much and too long that I can’t remember the last time I felt anything other than stress. That girl doesn’t dress to impress and I like that, I don’t want eyes on her, when I get my hands on her, I’m going to rip that dreadful shirt off her delicious body. Any eyes on her don’t sit well with me, having her swimming in one of my shirts sounds like the best solution I can think of right now.

  I slip out into the hall that leads to a public elevator that takes guests up to other floors to play other games. The bottom floor is an area for all kinds of gambling while the floors above that are different types of games with their own floors. My office is on the top floor where I have monitors that oversee every camera. My plan is to get on the private elevator up to my office and use the cameras to search for her, but I get stopped before I can get to the private elevator.

  In order to get to that elevator, I have to go through a door for employees only and I grasp the door handle and push it open roughly.

  “Ow!”

  It comes in contact with someone and my hand closes tightly on the knob while I breathe in deeply. It’s a sweet scent and I like it, but the thought of someone not in their post doing their work angers me.

  The figure behind the door moves away with a whimper to my ears, I hiss at the woman and swing the door all the way open.

  “What the fuck are you doing here!” I bark, flashing my eyes to the woman’s voice.

  My throat closes when big watery brown eyes stare indignantly at me, hands covering her forehead as the girl hiccups with pouty lips.

  She’s even more beautiful in person, my mind is spinning at our closeness and I want to press her soft and pliable body to mine and have those luscious lips wrapping around my cock. That thought awakens a fire at the base of my cock as it hardens and pumping with lust scorching my eyes.

  “I didn’t mean to come in here!” she pouts and shouts back at me.

  No one has dared to raise their voices at me without the fear of me putting them in their place. I have had my fair shares of drunken incidents where people don’t know their limits and tried to show who is the boss, they got their asses handed to them in a silver platter and out the door simultaneously.

  My temper is legendary; I will get angry, I will use my fists to get my point across if words don’t work, and I will take on anyone who dares to oppose my orders. I don’t care who the hell they are, but when it’s my casino and my home, I will protect it without a shred of hesitation.

  I lower my voice, shutting her exit behind me and her eyes go wide with panic. She should fear me, and exhilaration fuels the throbbing in my cock, I’m hungry for this young girl and I’m going to get my hands on her one way or another.

  “You can’t be here,” I say, smiling down at her as I step into her space.

  Her eyes narrow in suspicion, taking a step back. I don’t follow her, there’s no need to drive her away with my forwardness. She rubs the redness on her forehead and drops her hands with a huff.

  “I don’t want to be here either, I’m just lost.” she presses a hand back to her forehead and winces.

  “Come with me.” I gesture her to the other side of the room where the elevator is.

  There’re two private elevators, one is this one and the other is on the other side of the building. The other elevator is in a public opening while this one stays away from curious patrons. I have it designed this way for better access to my office and it allows me to get to different areas quicker.

  “What?” she gasps and backs away, “I don’t think so, mister.”

  I raise an eyebrow and set my eyes with a deep glare, her little shoulders jump at the change.

  “Don’t make me fucking ask twice.”

  I know lowering my voice to the same terrifying glower when I deal with unruly gamblers would scare her, but I need her to understand that I’m in charge here and listening to me is her best course of action.

  “Stranger danger!” she wags her finger at me like I’m a common domesticated dog.

  I snap back with a growl that has her stumbling back, “Get over here now!”

  “You don’t have to yell at me!”

  This girl is infuriatingly adorable with her little scrunched up nose and puffy cheeks, I’m going to have fun biting them later.

  “Then listen to me!” I stomp to her and she’s either scared frozen or stupidly confrontational as she doesn’t back down like normal people. I like her even more now, she has guts in her that’ll make me want to train that feisty innocence into submission.

  She stands defiantly with her arms crossing over her chest, I force my eyes away from those perky tits and goes to stand in front of her. My height casts a shadow over her tiny frame and I resist the urge to sink my teeth into that rosy cheek.

  I lift my hand over her face, the size engulfs her face with shadows as she snaps her eyes shut with her body locking in fear. She shields her body from me and what she thinks it’s a strike to her face, but I would never do that. I could never forgive myself if I hurt her with menace.

  I lower my hand and cups her cheek, she peeks at me with one cracked eye. I keep my face neutral, keeping her in suspense and I pinch her cheek with no remorse. The satisfaction in my fingers feels fucking great.

  She gasps and is taken back by my actions. I cock an eyebrow at her, silently asking her what the hell can she do about it.

  “You have two options. You either come with me voluntarily or I throw you over my shoulder. Your choice.”

  She swallows, “Option three?”


  I go to pinch her cheek again, but her little hand slaps mine away with an exasperated narrow of her eyes.

  “No.” I don’t give her options because there’s this feeling that if I don’t keep an eye on her, she’ll run away and who knows if I’ll find her again.

  “I have feet,” she says in the most peculiar way that she’ll take the first option.

  I’m disappointed yet her answer is expected. I wanted her to say no so I’ll have a reason to carry her into my office like a brute.

  At least I have privacy to deal with her now.

  Chapter Three

  Chloe

  There are a million of reasons why I shouldn’t trust this man.

  He looks strong.

  If he were to accidentally backhand me, I’d fly to Pluto like a projectile. I say accidentally because I’m hoping he wouldn’t hurt me; he knows when I stop walking behind him and he would look back with his mean scowl as a warning. Other than that, he doesn’t say much and continues to walk into a well-lit elevator.

  Normal people would run at the first chance they get, but I passed so many chances to escape my impending doom that I’ve accepted my fate. Running would only hurt me, knowing my rotten luck, I would rather not imagine what possible hazards would happen to me.

  One of the biggest reasons why I can’t trust this man is his face.

  Too good-looking; his brown hair and deep green eyes complement each other as he stands tall. Attractive people tend to have lots of secrets and most of them are dark skeletons that I rather not play with. Narcissist, serial killer, or a Wall Street broker. I see him as one of the bodyguards of his casino, ready to toss some rude patrons out the door.

  Either way, this requires a plan of escape that’ll make Houdini proud. However, I’m pretty sure that the plan is supposed to be made before I get myself into a situation like this.

  Once the elevator door closes, my fate is in his hands. His very big and strong hands that could yank me up by the collar if I misbehave or hold my neck to make me see the strength in him.

  The temptation is there, and I refuse to let it affect me, but his face is so attractive that I had to risk a peek. Pride be damned, if I’m going to die then I’ll die by my own terms and stare at a work of some gorgeous deity. If he tells me he’s a Greek god, I’d believe him wholeheartedly.

  The moment I look at him, he’s already staring back at me and I swear my heart wants to say hello from my throat.

  Look away, Chloe. Look away, I tell myself and thank goodness I can focus my attention on the crack of the doors.

  “Chloe.” his voice is so deep, it sends tingles down to my clit and the baritone curl around my name so sensually that it’s hard to differentiate him being a stranger and him being my dream man.

  Wait. This isn’t right.

  A set of claws dig into my tummy in dread, I turn to him with wide eyes. “How do you know my name?”

  He begins, “That’s not important—” I scoff at his words, of course it is— “I need to take care of that.”

  He presses his thumb to my sore forehead before I could react, and I squeal in pain. I knock his hand away with a hiss when my own hands touch it too quickly, I wasn’t prepared for the aching as I press onto the skin.

  “You’re the one that hit me,” I murmur quietly to myself.

  I hope he hears my pain, yet I hope he doesn’t hear because I don’t want to make it further into his blacklist.

  “I’m sorry.” he sounds sincere when he said that and I’m a weakling at heart, so I forgive him instantly.

  The death trap called elevator finally dings to signal our arrival to the top floor, it took way too long to get there. This building is too big and too tall, I’m suddenly getting anxiety from the top to bottom glass window that overlooks the city lights.

  The design plan to this floor is different than the other levels I’ve seen when I was lost. This floor has walls and doors that lead to rooms, a bookcase filled with book titles so complicated that headache will be the only definition I look up after this, and a big office desk with many flat screen computers on it.

  “Sit.” his hand had guided me to a couch and I don’t want to destroy the smooth and unblemished surface of the leather, but he pushes my shoulder down and my knees buckle like two spaghetti noodles. The leather beneath me is soundless when my butt hits it, the sound of your typical skin meet leather or another material coming in contact with it is strangely absent. That uneven and low crinkly pulling sound is not there, and I let out a sigh of relief.

  Why? I don’t know. It feels right to finally sit down after facing a man as scary as this stranger.

  I still don’t know his name.

  Let’s ask, my mind suggests.

  I reply back coolly, Let’s not.

  He disappears to another room that had a door on it, and before he left, he gave me a warning to not go anywhere. I debate if I should make a run for it. Channel all my energies into my calves and imagine I’m an Olympic sprinter while I book for the door and into the elevator. I can picture the freedom I would feel when the door closes but then that shatters when the man’s very massive bulge on his pants takes over my vision.

  Nope.

  I jerk my eyes up to the tall man, there’s this smirk on his face that makes me want to climb him like a tree.

  That aside, how did he get from the other room to block my view of the elevator door when both entrances are on the opposite side of the top floor of this building.

  It’s another reason why I can’t underestimate this man.

  Before I could come up with possible explanations of how he got to me so fast, he’s crouching down on the floor with a first-aid kit in his hand. His thick fingers wrap around the rectangular box with ease and I wouldn’t dare to think what they could do to my skull.

  “I’m fine,” I begin to protest when he cracks open the aid and take out an alcohol disinfectant bottle.

  “It’s just a bruise.” I touch my forehead and the dull throbbing is less painful now.

  He ignores me and twists the cap open. I have a feeling he likes to ignore people if it means to get things done his way, the barbaric way is what I’m trying to say because when he presses that round pad of cotton on my forehead, it stings.

  I shriek in pain and try to dodge the offensive disinfectant that’s too pungent.

  “Stop moving,” he barks, and my shoulders jump in obedience, but pain is not my friend. I yank my head to the side and the cotton drags on my cheek, the cooling sensation feels good even if it stinks.

  “It hurts,” I wince, turning my head back to glare at him with a pout.

  He doesn’t have an ounce of regret to what happened and attempts to put that pad of cotton back on my forehead, I capture his wrist in my hands and against my better judgment, I admire the size of our differences.

  I should be ashamed of myself; being forced to be here and endure this torture by his large hands while I admire the tattoos on his arms.

  I inwardly grimace. I keep staring and digging myself a graver hole.

  “Can’t you be gentle, Mr. Barbarian?” my heart is pounding on my ribs as my breath gets shorter and shorter by the second as he stares into the depth of my own eyes.

  His hair is a wash of light brown that looks extremely soft to the touch, his eyes are a shade of emerald that reminds me of the gem, and then his body. His frame is big and so strong that if I were to bury my face into his chest, his arms could secure themselves around me easily.

  I’d feel safe in them.

  I blink away that thought and I tell myself to calm down because his name is still a mystery to me.

  “It’s Damon. Use it and don’t you forget it,” he glowers, dropping the cotton pad on the floor while he goes for another thing in the plastic first-aid kit.

  When he takes out a tube of healing cream in his palm, I shake my head at the dollop that he puts on his finger. He raises an eyebrow, as if he’s challenging me to stop him, which he kno
ws I can’t physically fight him off or talk him out of it.

  I don’t understand why he’s so adamant on taking care of my forehead bruise.

  Yes, he did slam the door to my face, but he did apologize so I think we’re all good. Apparently not, he has to make sure my bruise doesn’t turn into a multicolored shade of gross.

  “Ow, be gentle!” I howl in distress when his finger rubs the cooling cream on the quarter-sized bruise.

  “What did I do to deserve this?” I can feel the cream begin to seep into my skin quickly as there are more frictions now.

  “You got my attention,” he simply said, his finger lingers on my skin as the cooling cream counters with his heated finger.

  My chest shudders in shock as my eyes widen, “I don’t want your attention!”

  Yes, I do.

  Though he doesn’t need to know that, but I have a feeling he knows by the smug grin on his deviously handsome face. I’m going to kiss that arrogance off of him. When I find my courage, that is.

  “What are you doing here?” he asks, dropping his arms down on his knees.

  He tips his head to the side for a better view of my face, I shrink back as his gaze bore into mine. The swirl of his green eyes beckons me closer as I swallow thickly. My mouth is getting too dry for comfort, my ears burn with self-consciousness when I notice that he’s not going to stop his inspection of my face.

  “You’re the one who brought me up here,” I mumble back.

  I toy with my fingers in my lap, finding my shirt is a lighter green than his eyes as I stare down at the cotton fabric.

  “Look at me.” Damon’s voice goes lower and I almost moaned. I have better self-control than that.

  My clit pulses weakly as a drop of wetness fall out of my pussy slowly and soak into my panties. My face heats up quickly and I instinctively wiggle at the trickling sensation that makes my toes curl.

  When I didn’t follow his order, he grasps my jaw in his hand and forces me to look at him with my panties scraping my little button.

  “You’re not old enough to be here, little girl.”