Chapter 2: Sanctuary in the Dark
1245 Words
Chapter 2: Sanctuary in the Dark
(Damon's POV)
The student lounge was pitch black. Heavy velvet curtains sealed the windows, turning the room into a suffocating box of shadows. I sat motionless on the Italian custom Chesterfield sofa.
Silence was the only luxury money couldn't always buy.
On the floor, my black kingsnake finished its meal. It slithered sluggishly toward the couch, sensing my heat. It coiled around my ankle, then wound its way up my wrist, its scales cool against my skin.
It raised its head, tasting the air.
*Click.*
The subtle sound of the door handle turning shattered the quiet. The snake recoiled instantly, disappearing into the shadows beneath the cushions.
I didn't move. I didn't breathe.
A slice of hallway light cut through the darkness like a blade.
The intruder slipped inside. It was the scholarship girl. Scarlet.
She didn't freeze. She didn't apologize. She slammed the door shut and twisted the lock with a sharp *snap*.
She spun around, pressing her back against the wood. Her chest heaved. Her blouse was torn, white fabric gaping open where buttons used to be.
She saw me in the dark. She raised a trembling finger to her lips.
"Shh!"
Her eyes weren't wet with tears. They were wide, dilated with adrenaline. She looked like a wild cat cornered by hounds, ready to scratch the eyes out of the first thing that moved.
Footsteps thundered down the hall outside. Shouts echoed off the lockers.
"Where did she go?"
"Check the stairwell!"
They were hunting. And she was the prey.
Scarlet's breathing was ragged. She looked at the door, then at me. I could see the gears turning in her head. A cold calculation.
I was a monster. But the mob outside was a pack of rabid dogs.
She made her choice. She swallowed the panic rising in her throat and stared straight into the darkness where I sat.
"They will tear me apart," she whispered, her voice raspy but steady. "And you are the only thing in this school they are afraid of."
(Scarlet's POV)
My hearing had never been sharper. Every sound outside was amplified.
The footsteps stopped right in front of the door.
*Knock. Knock.*
"Damon?"
It was Chloe. Her voice was muffled by the heavy oak, but I could hear the sickly sweetness in it. "Are you in there?"
"Chloe, come on," a guy's voice said. "Damon is at basketball practice."
"Maybe the b***h is hiding in there," another girl suggested. "Let's open it."
Silence for three seconds.
"Don't," Chloe said. "If you break Damon's things, he'll be pissed. We don't touch his door."
I didn't cry. I didn't curl into a ball. I pressed my spine against the door, grounding myself.
My eyes scanned the room, adjusting to the gloom. I needed a weapon. A lamp. A statue. Anything heavy.
My gaze landed back on the man on the sofa.
This was a gamble. A suicide mission, maybe.
I didn't know Damon Thorne personally. No one did. But I knew the rules of Crestwood. Chloe Sterling reigned supreme only because she stood on his shoulders.
He was the heir to the Thorne Empire. He was born on third base and thought he hit a triple. In a place where money was the law, Damon was the judge, jury, and executioner.
He had no empathy. He was a ghost in the hallways, untouched by the petty drama, tethered to no one but Chloe, and even that was just a label.
But I knew a secret.
Last month, I had stayed late to clean the art room. I saw him through the crack of a door down the hall.
He was sitting in the back of a classroom, watching a senior couple having s*x on the teacher's desk. He wasn't participating. He wasn't touching himself.
He was just watching. His face was devoid of lust. He looked like a scientist observing lab rats mating. Cold. Detached. Mocking.
He was a voyeur. A sick, twisted observer.
I looked down at myself. My shirt was ripped. My bra was visible. The skirt was hiked up, exposing my pale legs.
I felt a flush of shame, but I shoved it down. Shame wouldn't save me.
I dropped my hand from my collar. I stopped trying to hold the fabric together.
I let the blouse fall open, exposing the curve of my chest, the pale skin fragile like porcelain in the dim light.
This was my ticket.
"Scarlet, stop hiding!" A boy shouted from the hallway, rattling the handle. "Come out, little rat. We just want to talk."
"Yeah, come out," Chloe chimed in. "I'll make sure they don't hurt you too bad."
Lies. Sugar-coated poison.
Damon stood up.
The leather creaked. He moved silently, a shadow detaching itself from the dark. He walked toward me, looming tall and broad.
He stopped inches from my face. He reached out and flipped the light switch on the wall next to my head.
*Click.*
The sudden flood of artificial light blinded me. I squinted, tears pricking my eyes.
The noise outside ceased instantly. They saw the light under the door. They knew he was here.
A hiss came from the floor. I glanced down and saw a black snake coiling near the sofa legs, its tongue flicking.
I didn't scream. I looked back up at Damon. My legs shook, but I locked my knees.
"Damon?" Chloe called out, her voice faltering. "Is that you?"
I didn't beg him. I didn't grab his pant leg. I just gritted my teeth and endured the weight of his gaze. He was dissecting me with his eyes.
Damon's lips curled into a smirk. It wasn't a smile; it was a warning.
He stepped closer, invading my space. He smelled of expensive tobacco and rain.
His hand came up. He wore heavy black rings. His fingers brushed my collarbone, cold and hard.
He hooked a finger into the fabric of my shirt and pulled.
*Pop.*
The last button flew off, hitting the floor.
His cold metal watch grazed my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. I flinched, instinctively trying to step back, but there was nowhere to go.
He slammed his hand against the door above my head, pinning me.
He lowered his gaze to my exposed chest. His fingers slid inside my shirt, callous pads skimming over the swell of my breast.
I gasped, the air sucked out of my lungs. I bit my lip so hard I tasted iron, swallowing the moan that tried to escape. I glared at him, shock and anger warring in my eyes.
*Knock. Knock. Knock.*
"Who is in there?" Chloe demanded, her voice shrill now. "Scarlet? Damon?"
I grabbed his wrist. My fingers dug into his skin, trying to push him away. "Stop."
He didn't budge. He was made of stone.
He stepped in, forcing his knee between my legs. He pressed hard, hiking my skirt up my thighs, trapping me completely.
"You're disgusting," I hissed through clenched teeth, hate burning in my chest.
Damon chuckled darkly. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. His breath was hot, a stark contrast to his cold hands.
"Keep it down," he whispered, his voice a low rumble. "Someone is looking for you, remember?"
"Is this the price?" I asked, trembling with rage.
His hand tightened on me, cruel and possessive.
"Then make me hard," he murmured against my neck, "and I'll make them leave."
- Writer
