Page 90 of Dragonfly

Orion is curled up on Damien’s lap, purring like there’s no tomorrow.

If that bitch doctor had it her way, there wouldn’t have been. Not for my cat—and not for my husband, either.

The moment he had his family behind the gates that ward off our home, the first thing he did was take my chin between his hands and tell me that I have nothing to regret. I took my first life that night, followed by a few more, and he seemed so sure that I’d spiral when I realized that I’d finally done it. I’d finally killed someone.

I surprised him by patting his cheeks, telling my husband that he’s adorable.

Killing Liz? I’ve never felt so fucking free. I spent so long working toward revenge, and it turns out the thing that quieted those nagging whispers in my mind is vengeance.

I avenged Damien. He might’ve been sitting right there, bloody yet proud, but instead of letting Winter and his men hurt him any more, I did what I had to. And then, when Liz came at me, I did what I wanted to.

For Orion. For Damien.

For me.

Georgia is dead. She’s gone. The woman I was before Damien’s men picked my shop to pass their bills through before he had an iron-tight hold on the cops, on the banks, on the judges… I don’t even think I know how to be her.

But Savannah Montgomery— no. Savannah Libellula… that fateful evening in the alley, I was sure my new life was over. But then I agreed to marry this man—sure it was torture, convinced he could never love me—and some way, somehow, I’ve been born again.

I’m happy. And maybe I’m just as insane as I once accused Damien of being, but when he was so sure that I’d crumble with all that blood on my hands, I laughed—and he gave me that crooked half-smile of his that I couldn’t stop myself from falling for.

That was two weeks ago. I expected him to be a little more gentle with me, but I should’ve known better. As soon as we got the all-clear from Springfield Med—since the clinic is obviously out of commission for now—that Vin was going to be in a sling for a while, but other than that just fine, Damien told Genevieve to watch over Orion, then led me right to the basement.

Why? Because even with one eye swollen shut and his body tied to a chair, he noted that the way I flipped Liz after she ran at me wasn’t as clean as he would’ve liked. Doesn’t matter that I got her down and slit her throat. Oh, no. If she’d managed to knock me over instead, maybe the doc could’ve taken me out, and that wouldn’t have been acceptable to him.

I smile to remember that training session now, especially considering it ended with Damien on his back. So what if he was achy and bruised from being worked over by Winsters and his guys. He managed to act like it didn’t hurt after I stuck him with his knife. Enticing me to ride him… he’d ignore the pain for some pleasure any day.

That’s my husband. God knows why I love this overprotective, controlling man, but fuck it, I totally do.

Maybe it’s because he’s stroking Orion’s fur with one hand, playing with a lock of my hair with the other. My cat loves him, and though I was terrified that the sedative Liz tricked Genevieve into giving Orion would have hurt my baby, it didn’t do any lasting damage to him. He’s been spoiled with treats since we got him home from the vet, the same way as Damien’s cook has been serving Vin’s favorite meals for the household since he was released from the hospital.

Damien insisted. When his staff tried to focus their attention on him, he scoffed and said a shiner was nothing. Vin had a hole in his shoulder, plus one in his upper chest. He got lucky. He just barely missed his lung being hit, and I’m just glad I didn’t accidentally run him over when I bashed into the window.

We have our own truce now, me and Vin. I don’t know if he’ll ever forgive me for stabbing his cousin, but he’s magnanimously decided to overlook it since I did save Damien. He’s also very pissed that Liz was the one who betrayed the Dragonflies, and if I hadn’t already killed her, Vin would’ve made her pay no matter how much he wanted to bang her.

There’s only one of us in the household who is struggling to get over what happened. Poor Gen’s spent nearly all of her time on the third floor lately. We can always tell when she’s dancing because the music filters down to our level, but like Damien, I’ve learned to tune it out when we’re watching TV together.

Like now.

I don’t draw my husband’s attention to the fact that the music’s been playing since we settled down in the den after we ate dinner. At first, I was concerned that his sister could spend hours upon hours in her studio, but Damien assured me that was usual for Genevieve. To be as good a dancer as she is, she needs to practice anywhere between four to five hours a day, especially when she has a performance she’s preparing for.

Only… there’s none on her schedule currently. She’s not dancing because she’s practicing, she’s dancing because—like me—she needs to take her mind off of things. I used to do that by stalking Damien; now I distract myself with him. Having someone she trusted betray her… like her older brother, she isn’t taking it so well.

She’ll be okay. She’s only twenty-five, and I remember how innocent and naive I was back then. Because Damien coddles her, she’s even worse than I was. One day, he’ll have to realize that his baby sister needs to grow up, and after her first taste of what it’s like to really be involved with an organized crime syndicate, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what she’s working through upstairs now.

I’ll let her. And when the time comes that Damien will have to let her be an adult, I’ll be there for him, too.

For the moment, I just enjoy this peaceful evening with my husband as he loops a stray curl of mine around his finger.

Last week, I decided to dye my hair again at his urging. I understand why he’s so concerned. One of Winter’s men got away. I through I got them all, but I was wrong. So, depending on just what information Liz gave that crew, chances are he saw a woman behind the wheel and figured I was Damien’s wife. If he didn’t, the most he could’ve seen was my determined face and my head of black hair.

I can’t do anything about my face except change the way I’ve been doing my make-up just like how I did when I went from Georgia to Savannah. My hair, though? It was a pain in the ass to strip out the black dye, but after Damien brought me to a local hairdresser to color my hair, I decided to go back to my old sandy-color shade again.

Damien loved the black hair that was so similar to his, but once he could see what I used to look like? I haven’t been able to keep him away from my hair.

And that’s not all…

When we’re in a communal part of the house, Damien is careful to keep all of our touches g-rated out of respect for Genevieve and her promise that, if she catches either of us naked together again, she might have to wash her eyes out with bleach. I don’t blame her. Damien’s dick might be one of my new favorite things, but I can’t imagine his sister getting an eyeful of it. But because of that, he’s gotten used to stroking my hair or pulling me onto his lap so that she can’t see the way that I affect my husband.

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