I find him in the kitchen pouring two glasses of water. He places one to the side with two tablets.
“Aspirin,” he growls and I pull a ‘why’ face. “I don’t have a headache,” I snap back at him.
“Fuck, Woman! Just take it,” he growls and then he takes a deep breath. “It will help so that you don’t have a hangover tomorrow, should you decide to drink tonight.” I watch him swallow two tablets. He’s obviously going to booze it up. This I’d actually pay to see.
When I don’t move to take the tablets, he glances at me from over his shoulder. His lips are still wet from the water he just drank and I watch them part as he sucks in a breath. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, and I suddenly feel very conscious of my choice of clothing.
“Change.” The word rushes from my sudden dry lips. “I should change, yeah.” I sound like freaking Yoda.
“No.” The word is hard and fast. He shakes his head and turns his body so he’s facing me and then leans back against the counter. “I’m taking my gun with,” he says casually, “and you are not leaving my side.”
I look down at the short skirt that stops a few inches above my knees. It didn’t look that short when I got it. To my defense I’m at least wearing black stockings to cover my legs and the boots come up to just under my knees. My body is mostly covered. The long sleeve shirt covers everything. It might sit tight but it covers everything.
“You said to get dressed,” I say dryly. “You said we’re going out,” I keep going and then I wave a hand at him. “You got all dressed up and I had to try and match.” His eyebrow jumps and I flush.
“Drink the tablets,” he says.
He doesn’t move away when I walk closer and my heart leaps to my throat when his eyes follow me across the kitchen. There is a different look in his normally dark eyes, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
His voice drops and his lips curl into a slow smile, “You look good, Cara.”
I choke on the sip of water I just took. His hand settles on my stomach and he whacks me between my shoulder blades. I clear my throat and my watering eyes drop to his hand that’s still on my stomach.
“Take another sip.” His voice is deep and right by my ear. I take a huge gulp. It goes down hard, like I just swallowed sand. “Good girl.” Then his hand slips over to my side and he nudges softly. “Let’s go.”
I’m just plain freaking out as Damian parks the car outside a bar.
He gets out and I just can’t bring myself to open the door. I’m safe in the car.
Shit, I should’ve stayed at home. What the hell am I doing outside a bar? I’m not ready for this. Anxiety grips my chest in a painful hold.
The last time I was at a bar … I met Steven. I fucked up and I paid dearly for it.
My body starts to tremble at the horrible memories.
I can’t do this!
My eyes dart around the parking area and then they jump to Damian. I watch him stalk around the front of the car and I clasp my hands tighter on my lap. He yanks the door open and takes my hand right from my lap.
“Out,” he barks. The sound is sharp on my frail nerves.
I do an awkward stumble out of the car and he moves in close to me. Our bodies brush as he leans in to close the door. He doesn’t pull back but instead turns his face to mine. His warm breath chases the cold air from my neck. It makes me feel anxious. I’ve never felt so conflicted about another human being before. I know I’m safe with him, but being so close to him makes me shiver with both fear and comfort. It’s bewildering.
“You’ll be fine in there. I’m here. I have your back, Cara.” Then he pulls away and lifts my chin. I keep it up when he lets go.
Maybe I can fake the strength he wants to see on my face, because I sure as hell don’t feel strong.
I stay close to him and resist the urge to grab for his hand. I try to get control over the rampant emotions that’s wreaking havoc inside me.
The air is stale with cigarette smoke before we even enter the bar. The smell makes me hunch my shoulders and I wrap my arms around me, grabbing my sides tightly.
As he opens the door, laughter and music hits me full on. Dimmed lights, bodies moving, constant laughter and loud voices, and then there’s a sharp pitched scream as a huge man slaps a waitress on the ass. I stumble back from it all. The smoke is overwhelmingly thick and it presses against my face. I feel sick. Shit, I’m going to vomit. I can’t do this.
Panic flairs hot through me and my breathing speeds up.
Damian’s arm goes around my waist. He pulls me to stand right in front of him. His chest presses to my back and his hand slides to my hip. He nudges me slightly. I take an uneasy step, my eyes darting everywhere. I know he has my back, but it doesn’t ease the overwhelming feeling of being out in public.