Chapter 40 - FORTY

Chapter 40: Chapter FORTY

ANGEL

But he didn’t let go immediately. His hand stayed fisted in my hair, his mouth moving against mine for a few more seconds. Like he was debating whether to ignore the call entirely.

The phone rang again.

"Always the wrong fucking time!" he muttered, finally releasing me. He shifted me off his lap gently and placed his beer on the side table. "Don’t move."

Then he walked toward the kitchen, already answering the call.

My heart lurched so violently I thought it might burst through my ribs.

This was it.

I couldn’t believe my sudden luck.

My eyes tracked him across the room. He wasn’t watching me.

I slid my fingers into the couch cushion. Please be there, please be there, please—

The pills were still there.

Relief made me dizzy. I pulled out five tiny white tablets.

I looked at Damien again. He was still on the phone, his back partially to me. His expression looked dark and murderous even in profile. Whoever he was talking to definitely wasn’t giving him good news. His free hand kept clenching into a fist, releasing, clenching again.

I turned back to his beer can. Two pills slipped from my shaking fingers into the opening.

Was it enough? I frowned at the remaining three pills in my palm.

Daddy had once warned me that alcohol and medications were a deadly combination. But Damien was too strong, too alert, would only two pills knock him out?

And these pills had been exposed to air for days now, they’d probably lost their potency.

I needed to be thorough.

I added another pill. Then one more.

Four pills mixed with alcohol.

That should be enough.

I prayed desperately that they wouldn’t change the taste of his beer, or leave residue that would give me away. .

Damien’s voice rose slightly in the kitchen. Deep. Furious.

I shoved the last pill back into the couch cushion and grabbed my own beer, bringing it to my lips just as Damien turned around. My hand trembled but I forced it steady.

Damien walked back and sat beside me, his jaw tight with whatever anger the phone call had stirred up.

"Are you okay?" I asked. Surprised that my voice came out normally.

He didn’t answer, instead, he reached for his beer can.

Time slowed down as I watched him lift it to his lips.

My breath stopped in my lungs when the can tilted.

He drank.

Once.

Twice.

Three long swallows, his throat working.

His face didn’t show any sign that anything tasted wrong.

My lungs started to work again, his eyes were fixed on the TV now, but he looked absent-minded

He was either too distracted by the phone call or fate was finally on my side. Again, he raised the beer and took another drink. He downed the remaining contents in several large gulps and set the empty can on the table with a dull thunk.

My heart was beating so loud that I wondered if he could hear it. If the sound of my pulse was echoing through the room like drums.

How long before the drugs started working?

I forced myself to sip my own beer. To breathe normally and not stare at him like I was watching a bomb tick down to zero.

"Come here," he barked, suddenly. My soul nearly evaporated. But he only carried me against his thigh once more, and his arms wrapped around me like iron cages.

I let myself relax into him, his heartbeat was strong and rhythmic against my back.

Maybe it wasn’t working—?

Then, his grip loosened.

Just slightly. But enough that I noticed.

My pulse exploded into a sprint. I didn’t move, nor dared take a breath.

Then I felt it. His breathing changed. Slower. Deeper. The rise and fall of his chest behind me becoming more rhythmic.

I risked a glance from the corner of my eye.

His eyes were closed.

It was working!

I counted to thirty in my head, just to be absolutely sure.

"Damien?" I whispered.

No response.

I counted to sixty this time, then I twisted slightly in his arms, enough to see his face fully.

"Damien?" I called louder now.

Still nothing.

His breathing stayed deep and even. His features relaxed in a way I’d never seen, all the hardness and cruelty smoothed away by unconsciousness.

He was out.

I tapped his cheek gently. "Damien?"

His head lolled slightly but his eyes stayed closed.

Hope exploded in my chest. I jumped to my feet, my whole body shaking so badly I could barely stand.

Keys. I needed his keys.

I dropped to my knees in front of him, my hands dove into his jeans pockets, searching.

Cool metal bit into my hands. I found it!

I raced towards the door, my legs already carrying me toward freedom.

Then they stopped.

Panic pumped through every vein, freezing me mid-step.

What if four pills weren’t enough?

I turned back to the couch. I needed to make sure that he wouldn’t wake up.

My hands were shaking violently as I shoved them back into the cushion, finding the extra pills I’d hidden.

I grabbed Damien’s jaw and forced it open. I shoved the pills into his mouth, all of them at once, then grabbed my beer and poured the remaining liquid down his throat.

His throat worked reflexively. Swallowing. Taking them down.

This was me killing him, I was actually killing him.

I stared at his unconscious face. This man who’d broken me. Who’d forced me to become something I barely recognized while making me crave it.

I hated him.

I hated that I didn’t hate him enough.

My hand came up to trace his face. The strong jaw I always felt between my thighs. The lips that had kissed me and bit me and told me I was his.

"I hate you," I whispered.

I leaned down and kissed him. Hard. Desperate.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

Tears burned hot down my face as I kissed him harder. My teeth caught his lip one last time, biting down hard enough to draw blood.

He didn’t even flinch.

I pulled back, breathless. Blood stained both our mouths now.

"Goodbye, Damien," I whispered. "I hope you never wake up."