Damion helps me to my feet, holding me just a moment too long.
Date = 31 October
Place = San Francisco (paintball place)
POV – Melaena
A loud noise judders me to close my ears with my hands. It’s the siren signaling a win. Somebody grabbed a flag. I quickly look over, and then a big smile spreads across my face. Luke is jumping up and down, wildly waving the green flag through the air. I remove my hands slowly, letting them fall down my sides.
We won!
Jackson stops shooting his brother and Ilkay jumps up from his hiding place and slowly walks over to us with Enrique in tow.
“Congratulations.” He intentionally hits Damion on his back, knowing it must hurt like shit. Then he sees the paint marks covering my front and his eyes turn dark. A cameraman is standing close by, recording our win. It must be the one lucky dude Kiara was talking about.
“Who the bloody hell shot you like that?” Enrique seems angry and it’s ironic because just a few moments ago he was the one shooting at me.
“Chloe went all out killer crazy … emptied her gun on her,” Kiara explains, walking over to us with a smile. Then she looks at Damion and wrinkles her nose “… but Damion protected her viciously, taking a shitload of hits.” I look at the back of his overall, the black fully encased in green.
Shitload is stating it mildly.
I got hit 2 times, on my left boob, two on the ribs, and one on the arm, and I can honestly say it stings. I don’t even want to think how he feels.
Enrique’s brow lifts and he looks at the man standing next to me.
“Thanks, bro.” Damion looks uncomfortable but he doesn’t say a word. Luke comes in running and Damion grabs him and throws him into the air.
“We WON! We WON!” the little guy shouts while laughing.
“Yeah, you were great, dude,” he says. The warmth in his voice not going unnoticed by me. He’s a wonderful brother, that much I can confirm.
Enrique puts his arm around my shoulder and whispers “Bitch! Nobody can hurt my sister.” I just shake my head and smile at the contradiction of his words. Wasn’t he doing the same just a few minutes ago?
“Or?” I wait and when he only frowns I elaborate: “Those kinds of threads usually have an ‘or’ attached to them.” He blinks slowly.
“Ug, you’re useless.” I push him away and lift my gun. Before he can blink a third time, I shoot that sexy ass of his. He jumps around swearing, trying to dodge my fury. Three killer shots color the backside of his green slop.
Damion hoots: “Serves you right, asshole. You messed up my body for fun.”
Enrique glares at me, his multi-colored gaze cold as if he’s bent on revenge. But it dissipates and he puts his arm around my shoulder again, pulling me with him to the parking.
We join the other players, a mix of green and black overalls – most of them shattered with blobs of paint and already dispensed from their helmets – standing around in the parking area in front of the reception lodge. I drag my brother to where Kiara is leaning against Damion’s red Ford pickup. Damion join us.
Ren is having, what seems like, a serious conversation with Chloe at the side of the reception. Her green overall is now zipped down at the front, giving him a perfect view of her exposed cleavage, covered in what looks like a red lacy bra, his eyes taking full advantage of the show. The girl sure has some big boobs – at least double-Ds.
Funny, I don’t even feel a pint of jealousy, not in the slightest. Ren looks up to find me staring and smiles faintly.
Chloe suddenly rushes towards us with the velocity of a freight train, heading straight towards Damion. His six-foot-one, 185-pound body stiffens as she collides with him, digging her claws into his bruised back. He lets out a silent growl, his face contracting in pain. Enrique grabs her hips and pulls her back.
Almost immediately Damion shrugs loose and steps away from her.
“Let go!” he sneers and moves behind me as if I’m his cover. Coward. She opens her mouth, probably to complain, but a joyous voice interrupts her.
“Undefeated legends, not one shot,” Ilkay willows smugly as he and Axel walk proudly over to us while holding their guns like army rangers. Jackson appears silently behind them and, without hesitation, shoots both on their backs.
“Fuck.” Ilkay swears as they jump around simultaneously to see the bastard’s self-satisfied face. I have crackbrained brothers.
“And now you’re not!” Enrique smirks next to me, an egotistical expression displayed on his profile as if he’s lavishly enjoying their pain. Logan takes revenge and shoots Jackson from the side. Flip, I haven’t even seen him coming. Neither has Jackson.
“Asshole,” Jackson shouts.
Ilkay also fires at Jackson, hitting him solidly on his chest. Enrique busts a gut at his twin’s misfortune, so Jackson shoots Enrique. Axel shoots Logan who shoots Ilkay. Enrique shoots rapidly moving his gun from one to the other.
Sean, Damion’s teammate, walks over with Ren, and upon seeing his clean overall, the boys all gun him down. He turns his body, protecting his face and crotch, and takes most of the hits on his side. Ren dives behind a car. Damion pushes Luke inside his truck.
Then a shooting frenzy starts where anyone in sight is a target, and without thinking, I jump between Damion and his truck, not eager to receive another painful shot. Luckily it seems that it’s a dick fight, Kiara and I are not targeted, thank lord.
A whole maleficent war starts – without protective gear might I add – everyone shooting at anyone in sight. As soon as the fools run out of ammunition, they start laughing, matching up wounds as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“I swear males compare anything from dicks to toenails,” I hiss at Kiara next to me.
“I bet tomorrow they’re going to regret their stupidity,” she sneers. Yep, I’m sure they will.
I notice the reporter’s sly smile – he must have some excellent footage already and the night is still young. The boys may be foolish, but they’re never boring.
A pretty young worker comes around, handing out packs of antiseptic wipes, and immediately lights up at the sight of boys. She smacks on a lusty smile.
“Hey, hotness! You need me to doctor your boo-boos?” she asks Damion, eating him up with her eyes. I roll mine. Kiara snorts.
“Nah, I’ve got someone to do that.” He grabs a pack of wipes from the tray and stuffs it into my hand. “Since it’s your fault my back looks like a watercolor painting gone wrong.”
I guess I owe him.
He pulls down his overalls and ties the sleeves around his middle, exposing his bruised and battered back. It looks bad. Much worse than I thought.
He leans onto the bonnet of his truck. With sympathy, I start at the top of his left shoulder and work my way down from there. His eyes and mouth are tense and his muscles flexed – despite his attempt to look chilled. He winches when I dab on a bloody wound where his skin tore.
“Does it hurt?”