Damaged Queen (Darkness Within Duet 2)

She’d asked Ian and of course Hannah to let her go, and she repeatedly asked him to let her go.

He couldn’t bring himself to let her though. That wasn’t the plan. The plan was to keep her around and to use her before throwing her aside. So far, that hadn’t worked.

One look at her, and he knew he couldn’t do that, not after being balls deep inside her.

His father always had the evidence of Harper’s misdeeds, whenever Draven felt … the need for her. She’d betrayed them all, but Draven had never admitted to anyone how he felt. There were moments in the first five years, where he would miss her, crave her touch. In those moments, it was like his father knew, and he’d get to see how fucking stupid he was. Harper wasn’t the girl he thought she once was, but something far deadlier.

He held onto the steering wheel driving them for three hours straight. His first stop was to get her some clothes.

Draven liked to look at her body, and the only way to do that was to dress her appropriately.

They entered the first store, and Harper dragged her feet like a damn child.

“You’re not leaving here until you’ve got clothes, or I’ll start making you walk around my house naked.”

“You’re a sadist.”

“Not even close,” he said.

His threat seemed to do the trick as she picked up some jeans, shirts, and he got her some dresses to try on.

She wrinkled her nose, but he ignored that. She was going to look amazing by his side, and of course he loved seeing her walk around his home.

When he was in his office and Harper walked the gardens, he often stopped to watch her. He didn’t know what it was, but seeing her, knowing she was close by, it offered him a comfort he didn’t realize he needed.

Once they had all of her clothes that she’d need, he spared no expense. He could afford it.

Next was that night’s evening gown. He had no interest in returning to Stonewall. Draven ordered for his woman to look the part for a date, and the staff accommodated him.

Much to Harper’s annoyance, she was cleaned up, hair done into a neat style, and of course, her nails, makeup, and dress were dealt with.

It took them two hours, but as Harper left the room, Draven could only stare.

When they walked into the store, she’d looked like she walked off the streets in comparison. Her hair was glossed and falling around her in ringlets, her skin flawless with a hint of makeup. The dress, which was black, molded to every single curve and seemed to help enhance her beauty.

She looked stunning. There was no other word for it.

Actually, she looked like a queen. His queen.

She ran her hands down her stomach. “How do I look?”

“Beautiful.”

“Well, they pulled and pretty much stitched this into place.” She shrugged, wrapping an arm across her middle.

“We’re heading out to dinner.”

He held his hand out, and she took it.

They walked to the payment desk, and he handed over his card. He struggled when it came to not looking at Harper.

To him, she had always been a looker.

Her icy blue eyes, raven hair, and curves. Some boys or men liked a woman with no extra flesh, no weight. For him, he loved to feel her body against him, her softness, even when they were younger.

Having her in his arms was like a fucking dream to him.

Harper hadn’t lost her curves, and since he’d been feeding her, she seemed to have this glow about her, this natural beauty that just drew him.

Draven arranged for the rest of her packages to be brought back to Stonewall, and when they were done, he took her hand and led her back to the car.

“Do you still love Italian?”

“Of course.”

“Good.”

He drove them to one of the best Italian restaurants the city held. It wasn’t one he owned either. His reach was far but not this far. Was that why he picked this? To be far from any of his influences?

He wanted to remind Harper that he was more than what his father had made him.

The valet opened the door for Harper, but Draven rushed around and took over. No one but himself was going to be touching her tonight.

There was no way he’d even be able to share her, not with anyone.

“I’ll take it from here.”

He held her hand, and he went to the maître d’ and gave his name. Within a matter of minutes, they were seated.

The soft candlelight gave a romantic feel to the room. He stared across the table at her, and she looked around her.

“This is a really nice place,” she said.

“I heard they have the best pasta in the world.”

She laughed. “That’s Italy.”

“And this is a little slice of it.”

“So, are you going to tell me what is wrong with you or are we going to pretend everything is more than fine?”