Protect Me (Broken Heroes 2)

“Go…now,” he growls, then turns around and walks out of the room, disappearing down the hallway.

I stand there a moment longer, my feet cemented into the floor before I make my way into his bathroom. It’s huge, magnificent, and has a fancy shower with multiple steam functions. It reminds me of those luxury showers you see in commercials or movies. I check out all the settings and decide that a nice steamy shower is exactly what I need. Turning the knob all the way to hot, I get in and let the water massage and heat my tender flesh. I always tense up when I get stressed out, and it makes my neck stiff and sore. The past few days have been stressful as hell and you better believe my neck is letting me know it.

I stand under the shower way longer than I intended, so by the time I get out, my skin resembles a prune. Feeling ten times less stressed and a hundred times refreshed, I wrap myself up in a fluffy towel. Glad to have a bigger selection of clothes here now, I grab some fresh underwear, an ACDC shirt that used to be my brother’s, and a pair of skinny jeans. I dress quickly, brush my teeth, and comb through a dark mop of russet-brown hair.

Once I have the rat’s nest tamed, I make my way to the kitchen, letting my nose guide me the entire way. There’s a delicious scent filling the air, and I’m half shocked Damon wasn’t lying about his cooking skills.

As soon as I round the corner and step into the kitchen, I realize I must have spent way more time in the shower than I thought. Damon has already finished cooking and is setting the table.

“Quick shower, huh?” He snickers.

“Sorry,” I mutter, giving him a shy smile. I feel bad about the fact that he had to make breakfast all alone, but a few extra minutes in the shower was completely worth it.

“It’s fine. Sit. Eat. You’ll need to replenish if you plan on doing anything else today.” He winks and points to a chair as he sets a plate down. A good portion of eggs topped with veggies and bacon cover it. I do as he asks, inhaling the aroma of the food.

My gaze lifts to Damon’s. He looks at home, appearing as if this all comes natural. And with every new thing I learn about him, I want to learn more. There isn’t enough time in the day to learn what makes him tick.

I lift my fork and dig in. It’s hot as hell and nearly burns my tongue, but the flavor explodes in my mouth—the taste even better than it smells. The veggies are cooked perfectly, and the eggs are fluffy and mixed with a little bit of cheese.

“Wow, this is really good.”

“Now, if you would say that with a little less surprise, I might actually take it as a compliment.” He laughs a belly-shaking chuckle.

I’m slightly shocked, and I hope he can’t tell. I want to hear that kind of happiness escape his lips again. I take a drink of orange juice, then swallow down the food in my mouth.

His deep laugh echoes throughout the large kitchen. It’s infectious. And I start laughing. I’ve never seen Damon so at ease, and it makes me happy and less nervous. Our carefree morning routine comes to a halt though when his cell phone rings. His eyes gloss, and all happiness drains from his face. The mask I often see him wear slips back into place.

He lets the call go to voicemail, then the phone chimes again.

I try to focus on finishing my breakfast and less on what he is doing, but my appetite is gone now.

“It’s Xander, and he wants us to come to dinner. He’s also invited the rest of our family.”

My brows pinch together in confusion. “The rest of your family?”

“Yes, I have two uncles left alive, and they’ll be joining us.”

Damon doesn’t elaborate, but he looks less than happy. And although I don’t want to pry, I am dying to know more about his family. Partly out of curiosity, and partly out of fear. For some reason, I feel like knowing more about him may make this less scary.

At least if I know what I’m walking into I can prepare myself.

Forcing another bite of food into my mouth, I decide to ask him some questions.

“What happened to your parents?”

Damon’s mood darkens, and I regret asking him. Maybe bringing up this conversation right after his asshole brother contacted him isn’t such a good idea.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” I swallow the food in my mouth even though I feel like vomiting.

“My father wasn’t what you would call a father. Every choice he made was for himself and his businesses. He was selfish, and he scared my brother and I in the worst ways. He did things to us no man should ever do to a child—let alone his own sons. We needed someone to protect us, but my mother turned a blind eye, as if she didn’t see the fucking things he was doing.