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I squeeze my aching shaft, imagining every illicit thing his mouth is doing to her.
My breath comes out in short, jagged bursts against the glass as I watch the back of his head move up and down and she starts writhing against his face.
I’m so close. So fucking close…
“Damien, I’m—”
Instantly the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. That name…her voice.
No. It can’t be. I’m hallucinating.
I shake my head, convinced the stress of the election is responsible for my current state.
However, my blood turns cold when the man turns his head and a pair of creepy blue eyes meet mine.
His lips curve into a vicious smirk, drawing my attention to the blood on his jaw before he spears her with his tongue again.
My teeth clench as I process what’s happening.
Eden. Damien. Eden. Damien.
It’s the equivalent of stepping on a landmine.
I go to turn the knob, but I can’t. When I push harder, I realize both balcony doors are fastened shut from the outside, preventing me from opening them.
Rage twists my insides as I bring my fist to the glass and pound on it. “Eden!”
She doesn’t know who Damien King is. She doesn’t realize he’s dangerous. She doesn’t know…
She doesn’t know the truth.
“Eden—” My stomach sinks when she goes limp. One of her wrists is tied to the railing, causing her body to sway ever so slightly—my very own pendulum of doom.
Damien stands up and walks toward me with an amused expression on his face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He gestures to Eden, his eyes becoming tiny slits. “Guess that makes two of us.”
Dread claws at my chest. He’s like a piranha teasing his meal.
He’s got me right where he wants me.
It’s all I can do not to find a sledgehammer and break through the glass door separating us so I can rip his jugular out with my teeth.
I open my mouth to speak, but my phone vibrates.
He blows a line of smoke in my direction. “You might want to answer that.”
My jaw tics as I bring my phone to my ear. According to the screen, it’s Andrew Jones—the head of the committee for my political party.
It’s odd he would be calling me when I saw him downstairs earlier.
“Hello—”
“We have a problem,” he says, cutting me off. “David Covey is dead.”
I want to remind him that it’s not so much a problem as it is a blessing, considering he was my opponent, but I’m too shocked at the news. “That’s…when? He was here tonight—”
“I know. I’m not sure of the details yet, but I have a friend who works at the medical examiner’s office and she said she’ll let me know what happened when she does. In the meantime, I called an emergency meeting with the committee so we can come up with a game plan. Governor Bexley was kind enough to offer us his home to set up camp for however long we need it, since townhall is closed until the morning. I’ll see you there in say, fifteen minutes?”
“Yeah, I just have to…” I clear my throat. “I’ll be there.”
“Everything okay?” Damien questions after I hang up. There’s no mistaking the taunting bite in his voice.
“Fu—” My sentence stalls when I hear the front door of the suite open.
“Cain?” Margaret calls out. “Are you in here? Cain?” she repeats and panic lodges in my throat. The click-clack of her heels tells me she’s heading for the bedroom.
I look past Damien to Eden and my chest tightens.
Damien, appearing to enjoy the dilemma he’s created, rubs his chin. “Quite the predicament you’re in.”
“I’ll be downstairs in a minute, Margaret,” I bellow over my shoulder. “Just finishing up in the bathroom.”
Every muscle in my body contracts in aggravation when I turn my attention back to Damien.
I should have known he wouldn’t stay away forever.
“This isn’t over,” I snarl, stabbing the door with my finger.
Damien’s lips twitch in amusement. “Not by a long shot.” He licks his blood tinged thumb. “But don’t worry. I’ll take good care of her.”