Tattooed Emotions Part 19

"Hmm...so you can dream of me?" I asked with a tender smile.

"With you in my arms, Raelyn, I dream of all kinds of things I never thought possible before you." He pressed his lips to my forehead with a tender adoration that reached in and touched my soul.

I ran my fingers through his soft locks and kissed him one last time even though I was always longing for more where he was concerned. "Then, take me to bed."

He did, and I felt myself dreaming of wishful possibilities, too.

I shot upright in bed at the sound of an ear-screeching alarm sounding off over and over again, and I covered my ears.

"Damien! Damien, what's that noise?" I asked frantically as the bed s.h.i.+fted beside me.

"My house alarm."

I heard his quick strides across the room to turn on the bedroom light. My eyes squinted at the harsh brightness.

"Stay here." His tone seemed uneasy and on edge.

Damien dimmed the light until it was a soft glow, and then he exited the room.

Seconds ticked by.

My heart raced uncontrollably at the idea of being left alone with no clue as to what was going on. I bit the inside of my cheek, contemplating on what to do. Something or someone had to have triggered the alarm, and Damien had left to see what it was.

Knowing I couldn't just remain here without feeling helpless, I stood to my feet and padded out of the bedroom. The beeping came to a stop as my shaky feet carried me down the hallway to the junction of the staircase. My eyes scanned the open s.p.a.ce.

Damien was nowhere in sight.

Once I reached the bottom of the stairs, I could see the front door ajar. My chest seized with terror at the notion of an intruder being outside. I glanced back and forth at my surroundings, looking for anything to defend myself, when I tiptoed into the foyer.

There was a long umbrella hanging from the coat rack on the wall, so I hastily grabbed it and held it in my grip like a bat, ready to swing.

Goose b.u.mps rose on my skin as I peeked my head out the front door. "Damien, where are you?" I cried, unsure if I should continue outside.

The yard was illuminated by lighting placed against the house and along the driveway.

Keeping my back pressed into the stucco of the house, I advanced onto the concrete patio with my weapon of choice, prepared to strike if necessary.

A human shadow came in view, ambling up the driveway, followed by a second taller shadow. The bigger person of the two appeared to be shoving the smaller one forward.

As the two of them neared, it became clear that the person in front was just a boy, a teenager. And the second man was Damien, a very angry Damien.

"Does your father know you're here?" Damien's steel voice flowed through the air.

The boy stopped and slightly turned to face Damien. His side profile looked utterly hysterical. "No. Please, please don't tell him where I am." He grappled at Damien's s.h.i.+rt. "Please. You can't tell him!"

A profound sadness fell over me at the desperation radiating off of the boy. He was petrified.

"Let's go inside, William, and get you cleaned up." Damien's face filled with compa.s.sion, yet fire still lingered within his features.

The boy exhaled deeply. "Okay."

As the boy came closer, my heart went free-falling into my stomach. Blood was smeared down the boy's nose and across his lower lip and cheek. His eyes looked hollow and dark. A purple bruise was forming on his right cheek.

I ran off the porch and barreled forward at full speed toward the boy.

"Did you hit him?" I screamed at Damien, outraged, as I inadvertently aimed the umbrella at him.

His head whipped back on his shoulders as he came to an abrupt halt. "No, of course not!" Damien yelled.

His gaze darted between my weapon and me, and I lowered my arm to my side.

"What happened?" I cried, turning to face the boy.

He must have been sixteen or seventeen years of age. He was a good half foot shorter than Damien but far too skinny.

The boy cringed with fright, and he stared down at the ground.

I instantly felt guilty. "I'm sorry," I softly told him. "Are you okay?"

He was quiet for a moment before making eye contact with me. "I-it wasn't Damien."

My lips parted as I sucked in a gulp of air, and I looked to Damien for an answer. He pinched his brows together in a pure sign of distress and shook his head, as if saying not now.

I gently rested my arm on the back of the boy's shoulder and said, "Let me walk you in, and you can wash up, whatever you need." My voice cracked, overcome with emotions.

The three of us walked inside the house, and I dropped the umbrella to the ground before turning to see Damien staring at me.

"Just what in the h.e.l.l did you think you were going to do with that?"

"Hit someone." I shrugged, feeling slightly embarra.s.sed. It had been better than going out empty-handed.

"Right..." he drawled with a hint of amus.e.m.e.nt. "We'll talk about that later." He s.h.i.+fted his attention to the boy. "The bathroom is down that hall, first door on the right. You go shower, and I'll find you some clean clothes and a first-aid kit."

"A-are you sure?" William stuttered at a loss, causing my chest to constrict.

"Yes," Damien answered without hesitation.

"Why? Y-you don't even know me." William added, "Well, not really."

The tightness around my heart increased even more.

Damien parted his lips to speak as a deep sense of pain quickly and powerfully flitted across his features. I felt winded from just witnessing it.

No words came out.

He snapped his mouth shut. An unreadable mask slipped over his face.

Seconds felt like hours before Damien tried to talk again. "You're always welcome in my home, William," he declared with a warm gentleness I'd not heard him use toward anyone other than me before. "And now, you're not going anywhere until I say so. I need to know you're safe. I'll make up a room for you."

William tucked his chin to his chest and slowly nodded. "Thank you." He sniffled. "I appreciate your hospitality."

"There is no need to thank me, William." Damien lightly squeezed the boy's shoulder. "I'm glad you came to me."

"Me, too," the boy said before walking off.

I directed my confusion to Damien, wondering how and why he was welcoming a teenage boy he knew-but, somehow, didn't really know-into his home. "Who is he?" I asked, breaking the silence first.

Damien stared after William until he went down the hall and shut the door behind him. Turning his tortured grays on me, he said, "He's my nephew."

Agony sliced through my heart, penetrating the depths of my soul. "Did..." I trailed off, unsure if I could ask the question burning holes in my mind, but I had to. "Did your brother do this to him?"

He turned to look at me with void eyes. "He's not my f.u.c.king brother."

"Okay..." I swallowed thickly. Understanding that he hadn't meant to lash out at me, I let it go and corrected my error. "Is this your stepbrother's doing?"

"I'm not sure." He stared at the hallway where William had disappeared. There were too many emotions on Damien's face to place as he added, "But I'm going to find out."

As Damien cleared out one of the spare bedrooms, I searched every bathroom in the house to gather supplies for William. I took them with me and went to knock on the bathroom door. He'd been in there for an hour, and I was worried.

"William, may I come in?" I asked quietly.

I heard shuffling, and then the door opened. William stood before me and nervously s.h.i.+fted on his feet.

I gazed up at him with gentle eyes and showed him what was in my hands. "I brought you some Neosporin, Band-Aids, and some other first-aid items."

"Thank you."

The cuts on his lip and eyebrow looked rather deep, and they were bleeding again from his recent shower, so I asked, "Would you like me to help?"

"Sure." He backed up into the s.p.a.ce and allowed me to enter.

Anxiety rolled off of him in dense waves as I set my supplies on the counter next to him.

Since he was much taller than me, I went to the toilet and closed the lid. "Can you sit here, please?"

When he did, I scooted the stuff over along with me. I glanced at the cut on his eyebrow again and restrained myself from wincing. My heart ached at the idea of someone hurting this young man.

I opened the container of rubbing alcohol, tipped it over onto a cotton roll to saturate it, and then opened the package of sterile gauze and a b.u.t.terfly Band-Aid.

Carefully, I tended to his wound by patting the area. When he flinched away from me, I did, too, at the idea of causing him more pain. I kept my movements slow until it was clean, and then I dried it with gauze, noting his face was lightly dusted with freckles.

"Is it going to leave a scar?" William asked, barely above a whisper.

I gazed at the wound and then back at him again. I reached for the b.u.t.terfly Band-Aid and applied it to the area. "I can't be sure, but I hope not."

I started to clean the one-inch gash on his lip.

William instantly recoiled at my touch. "Ouch."

I pulled back. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay." He shook his head. "It's not you. It just stings."

I waited a moment, unsure if I wanted to touch him again, knowing I would undoubtedly cause him more agony. After a moment of silence, he looked up at me with such pain that my chest constricted.

"Did I make the right choice by coming here?" he queried. "Is my uncle a good man? Or is he like my father?" He stared past me, appearing lost in his own thoughts. "Because I've overheard stories...about him-about Damien, I mean." His expression went grave. "I thought if I came to Damien, he'd understand what I was going through, that he might believe me and help me...even if no one else in my family did."

It took everything that I had inside not to reach forward and wrap this boy in my arms. The only reason that I didn't was because I was terrified to frighten him off.

I'd only known Damien for a short time, but I was certain he'd been terribly abused as a child. Now, to have William in front of me, suffering from the same maltreatment...it was shattering my soul into a million pieces.

I might not know Damien as well as I hoped, but I was sure of one thing. "I'll be completely honest with you, William," I began, causing the boy to meet my gaze. "Damien has only been in my life for a short time, but I know, in my heart, that you are safe with him, and he'll help you in any way that he can. He's a good man."

William intently stared at me before asking, "Would you trust him with your own life?"

"Yes," I stated without missing a beat. It was true. I would.

I lifted a Band-Aid and slowly moved toward him.

He leaned far away from me and glanced at me with pleading eyes. "Then, promise me that you won't let him take me back there."

My lips parted, and I inhaled a deep breath, so desperately longing to make that pledge to him. But the awful, sad truth was that it wasn't my place to make it.

"I promise," rang loud and clear from the hallway with an unwavering determination. "You're not leaving my sight until I'm positive you'll be safe."

My breath hitched in my lungs as I turned to see Damien leaning against the hallway wall, watching us. The light from the bathroom illuminated the hard set of his jaw. Even full to the brim with rage, he was beautiful and strong.

"Leave us." Damien's haunted eyes met mine. "Please. William and I need to talk."

I nodded with the Band-Aid still in my hand. "Of course. Just let me-"

"It's okay," William said. "You can leave that one off. I wouldn't be able to move my mouth with it on."

I walked over to the door where I met Damien at the threshold.

He gently caught my wrist. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," I replied quietly before reaching up on my toes to place a rea.s.suring soft kiss on his lips. "I'll wait upstairs."

Going up the staircase and into Damien's bedroom, I crawled into bed and slipped beneath the covers where I tossed and turned as I waited and waited and waited for him to return.

It must have been a solid two hours before I felt him enter the room. Tension and anger and sadness rippled outward into the s.p.a.ce as he neared. The bed dipped, and he eased toward me.

Flipping on his side, he rested his leg and arm over me, caging me in. He pressed his nose into my hair, and I heard his unsteady breaths as I lay on my back.

I wanted to ask him if he was okay or if he wanted to talk about it, but I could tell by his demeanor that he didn't. So, I tightly held him with one arm while lifting my spare one to tenderly stroke his hair, letting him find comfort in holding me.

There was no chemistry brewing between us in this moment. It was just him and me as I tried to soothe him and offer him some sort of solace with my presence.