His Fiery Damnation

Just a.year

CHAPTER 002

Just a year~

JULIET

I sat on the bed and looked at the dress laid out for me.

My stepmother had chosen it, of course. She always did.

Tight at the waist, low at the front, a color too bright for me. She liked making me uncomfortable.

She said it was good for me, that it made me look less invisible.

She knew my choice would end up being a black long gown that would cover my whole skin and show just my face.

I picked it up with shaking hands and pressed it against my chest.

Spain, I told myself.

Just a few more months. He already promised he would let me go. Out of his house and out of his life.

My phone buzzed beside me.

Emma.

I pressed the screen and smiled when she began singing.

Emma Orneil. The only one who dared to become friends with someone everyone considered a witch.

"Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday to you. Hip hip hip! Hooray!" Emma clapped her hands like an excited child, waiting in line for ice cream.

It made me smile.

"Thank you." It warmed my heart that she remembered. She always did.

“You’re quiet,” she said. “What now?”

“Dinner,” I whispered. “Father’s having a guest.”

“You sound like you’re about to walk down to your execution.”

I chuckled lowly.

“Maybe I am.”

She sighed. “You’ll survive it, Juliet. You always do. We're throwing a birthday party for you. I'll take a picture and send it, okay?"

"We? Who's we?" I never had a we in my life. It was always me. Until Emma came along and it became us.

She sighed again.

"Brian, Tessy, Richard the punk, and me."

"And why would they celebrate my birthday?" We weren't friends.

Hell, I didn't even know the faces behind the names but that was enough to know they weren't supposed to do that.

"Because I asked them to. Call me after, okay?”

“Okay.”

I slipped into the dress, brushed my hair down, and painted my lips with the faintest shade of red. I didn’t do it for them.

I did it because when I looked in the mirror, I wanted to see someone else.

Someone who could be free.

By the time I stepped into the dining room, the table was already set.

Crystal glasses, silver spoons, and candles flickering against the polished wood.

My stepmother sat at the far end, her face blank, her eyes heavy with the same disdain she always had for me.

She looked at me once, then looked away, like I wasn’t worth her time.

I sat down, folding my hands into my lap, staring at the empty seat across from me. I thought it would be one of my father’s old friends.

Another boring night where I sat in silence while they drank and laughed and pretended I didn’t exist.

But I was wrong.

When the doors opened, my father walked in, his voice loud as he greeted the man beside him.

And then I saw him.

He wasn’t old. Not even close.

Dark hair, gelled to perfection. Broad shoulders, a tailored suit that looked like it was cut only for him.

But it wasn’t any of that that stole my breath. It was his eyes. Sea green, dark, and locked on mine the second he entered.

I froze.

He looked....good. So good.

Due to my father's business, I have seen many men. Handsome, rogue but never this kind...

He looked... ethereal.

His gaze didn't leave mine. Not even when my father gestured for him to take a seat.

Something inside me shifted under that stare. Like the air had thickened.

“Juliet,” my father called and I snapped my gaze to his.

“Sit up straight.” He glared as he spoke.

I did. My hands were trembling as I placed them flat on my lap..

Did he have to scold me right in front of him?

The man smiled.

Just a small curve of his lips, nothing more. But it felt dangerous. Very dangerous, even more when he darted his tongue out and licked the seam of his lower lip. It looked so... erotically sinful.

He finally took a seat and so did my father.

I had never seen my father this frantic to please before. He looked anxious about whether to sit or arrange the man's plate. I would have laughed at my father's anxiousness, but I could also feel the heaviness of his stare, sliding over me, burning my skin as it trailed over my body.

"Shall we pray?" Father clasped his hands together to pray.

Pray?

I couldn't recall the last time my father went to church, talk more pray.

He was a pagan, a heathen, anything to disassociate himself from God.

"It is my daughter's birthday, Lord, and as such I pray for mercy, grace, and love as she turns twenty. Amen."

He hadn't even gotten my age right.

Dinner passed in a blur.

The clinking of forks, the sound of glass against glass, my father’s booming voice filling the silence I wanted so badly to escape. But every second, those eyes stayed on me.

When it ended, my father stood and cleared his throat.

“Juliet,” He called.

“Show our guest to the restroom upstairs. He'll need to release himself before leaving."

The room went quiet, well except for my erratic breathing and the pounding of my heart.

What was my father doing?

"It's... this way," I said, gesturing for him to follow me.

He did, sliding through the chairs till he was close.

I could feel the heat from his body even when we were two feet apart.

I took him up to the end of the hallway.

"This...Uhm, this is the restroom. I'm pretty sure... You know how to use it, so there won't be a need to go in with you." I babbled helplessly.

This wasn't good. It wasn't...

He raised a brow and nodded, brushing past me without saying a word.

He was tall, very.

I inhaled the dark smell of gunpowder, citrus, and wood.

My eyes closed on their own accord, as the pleasant smell gripped me.

I don't know how long I stood there, but when I felt a familiar surge of heat, I snapped my eyes open and gasped.

My eyes widened.

He was close. So close that if I were to move, I'll brush his chest with mine.

And with the ridiculous dress Lauren had given me, my breasts threatened to spill from the dress if I were to take another step.

His gaze travelled from my chest, leaving a tingling, fiery sensation in its trail, slowly till our eyes locked, and I stopped breathing.

His tongue did that thing again with his lips, and I felt him leaning down....down, close....close to reach, my...lips, but he bent his head instead to nip my earlobe.

A soft inhale, right beside my ear, close enough that his lips almost touched my skin.

The sound ripped through me. My knees trembled, my chest burning.

My hair brushed against his face as he tilted closer, and he took it in.

“Cherry,” he murmured, his voice low, deep, almost a growl. He breathed in once again “And something sweeter.”

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

My knees felt like jelly and I swear if I were to say a word, I'll turn into a babbling mess.

He pulled back slowly, just enough for me to see the gleam in his eyes. Hungry.

He smirked, his eyes burning mine.

"Happy twenty-first birthday, Mia Juliette." He whispered and I swear I could feel my first orgasm building up.

TBC