Page 85 of Cut Me Down

I'm not scared anymore.

He’s holding my hand.

Chapter thirty-one

Damien

I am a God damn liar. I pride myself on honesty, which is contradictory to my life, since I hide myself as the leader of DH from the world. I told myself that love doesn’t exist. That it was made up to heal the damaged. True love couldn’t be real, right? The thought that you could love someone so much that you would give up everything for them? And that it wouldn’t have any consequences? Love is a weakness. Something only manifested for others to manipulate and twist into something maniacal.

Marriages get stale. Trauma happens and changes people. All of the ever-changing variables of life, and people are stupid enough to believe that nothing could change. To put someone not only before your own mind, heart, and soul, but before everything you do was foreign to me. Willing to throw everything away for someone that will eventually leave you stranded and heartbroken. Leaving you in ruins while you pick up the pieces. Nothing could be forever, right?

The thought that nothing could tear you and this person apart was illusive to me. That life had to be all sunshine, rainbows, and unicorn shit for love to actually prevail. Thinking that there are some situations and baggage that others won’t accept and run screaming from. Operating under the life I live is a lonely man’s world, and no woman would willingly accept a life of violence in exchange for a life with me. The idea that two people could love each other more than anything in the world and nothing would stand in our way was ridiculous. Life targets happy people, and it'd have a straight line to their ignorance.

That’s what I told myself.

Lied to myself.

I am in love with this woman.

She’s opened herself up, and I didn’t make her. I may have taken away her choice on whether she was with me or not, but liking me? Caring for me? She chose that. She craves much more than just physical touch, and she craves that from me. For her to allow herself to open up to me, care for me, is a God damn honor. For someone whose love literally left scars on her body, she accepted me. I could give her the choice back and give her the option to run without me following close behind her, and I trust her enough to stay. She may not love me yet, but that’s okay, I feel it there inside her. How ever long it takes for her to realize is just more time for my love for her to grow, and I'm a very patient man.

Holding her early this morning felt like heaven, if there was one. After I finished inside her, I left myself in her. Buried myself in her, and she just let me hold her. I probably traced her whole body with my fingers twice, and the way she touched me over my chest, neck, and face with her delicate fingers was so soothing. I’ve held her every night for over three weeks, but this morning was different. It was an awakening. For both of us, I think, and when I woke up a while later next to her beautiful soul, I actually heard the birds sing. The world looked different. Brighter. Like I had a hangover that I never want to recover from.

If she thought I was dangerous before, she was clearly mistaken. The lengths I would go to keep her happy are unnatural. Obscene. Ranging anywhere from the smallest of tasks to the largest of atrocities. I would pluck every black flower from this earth, raise kingdoms in her name, and slaughter any man who dare threaten her mind or her soul. I’d pile the bodies at our doorstep as a testament to my love, and a warning to anyone else. Anything to make her smile or reassure her of my undying loyalty and commitment to her. I know she would never ask any of that from me, or anything really, but she wouldn’t have too. She wouldn’t even need to bat an eye.

She knows I have money, but she doesn’t care. She hasn’t asked where I live, or what kind of car I drive. She didn’t even ask what kind of bike I had. She couldn’t care less. She just wants me, for me, and I'm the luckiest, most dangerous mother fucker on the planet.

I have to see her again. Now. I hate the feeling when I'm not with her. It’s like my soul is parted from me and is in constant search for her. Lying in bed earlier this morning and watching her as she quickly got ready for work was like a glimpse at eternal peace. So easy. So simple and content. Like that’s the view I’d watch for the rest of my life, and I loved every second of it. She told me to get more sleep, but all I could do was lie there knowing she was right downstairs. Laying on our bed without her felt so wrong. It was as if bugs were crawling under my skin, and I couldn’t stay still if my life depended on it.

I listen to the familiar doorbell ring as I walk through Cut Me Down. The room is beaming, and a carefree energy radiates through the space today. Charlie is already in her chair. Talking up a storm and seemingly entertaining my girl. Luckily for me, there’s no one else waiting for her. So I can have her to myself for a while.

I nod to all of the other guys cutting as I walk up to the half wall, and Emmett gives me an extra smirk as he looks over to her and smiles.

“Hey, baby girl.” I say to her as I lean on the wall.

“Hey.” She leans in for a gentle kiss. So innocently, like she has been kissing me every morning for years. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better.” I stare into her beautiful golden eyes as they shine more today than I’ve ever seen them. “How’s it hanging Charlie?” I glance at the old fart.

“Shriveled and to the left, young man.” He smirks, showing his dentures.

“Charles!” I hear who I'm assuming is Jamie, from the waiting area, and I can’t help but laugh.

“It’s fine Jamie, he’s hilarious.” I tell her, but direct my attention back to Ashia. “You got time for one more?” I know she does, it’s only ten in the morning. As if the empty waiting room wasn’t clue enough.

“You’re letting me cut your hair?” Her eyes widen with genuine surprise.

“Well yeah, I'm not letting anyone else.”

“Good, I’d kill you.” She says to me playfully as she narrows her eyes, feigning a threatening demeanor. However, I fully believe she would if another woman touched me. Though, she’ll never have to worry about that. The thought of any other woman than her touching me is repulsive, but a part of me wishes another woman would try. Just so I could see my little wolf go feral over her ownership of me. If she had seen Mikaela today instead, I have every bit of confidence that it would have gone a very different way.

I look over to the counter to see a shampoo bottle, a beard oil, and a bar of soap set on the inside by the tablet she uses to check clients in and out. That stuff isn't normally there, and it’s pushed to the side like she’s saving it.

“What’s all of that?” I ask.

“I figured you needed ‘guy stuff’ for the apartment. So, I bought it for you. It’s my favorite scent.” She smiles and winks at me. Ashia does not have a lot of money, but she thought about me enough to spend it on me. That sweet woman. Her generosity in a world full of selfishness always surprises me.

“Oh yeah?” Her favorite scent? I'll buy every fucking bottle before another man uses it. Maybe the whole company. It couldn’t costthatmuch, and I can’t have my little wolf thinking another man smells good. Though, I don’t think it’d have the same effect on her from another man.

---