80

I take her hand in mine, lots of cropped-up feelings bubbling now to the surface, leaving me with the unstoppable power of speech.
“We can go shopping, and talk boys and relationships, and you can teach me how to cook … and tell me what happens during menopause, what makeup is the best, and anything else that moms and daughters do …” Excitement takes over my voice.
“I can’t wait! I need that … OMG … I can buy pink girly clothes again.” I take her hand.
“And I need you to teach me about dating … and how to handle your stupid son.”
We laugh together.
“I think you’re handling him pretty well.” I need to swallow down some tears again.
Since my mom died it’s always just been me, Kiara, and the boys. And no matter how much I love my brothers and uncle, even Kiara, they could never replace the gaping hole in my heart. There are just some things they’ll never get.
Maybe that’s why Kiara and I are so close, we just had to cope without any feminine guidance. We got through our first period together; bought our first bras together; cried about our first crushes (mine being Damion of course).
“But why run?” Haley sits closer as if we’re going to gossip and talk secrets. “I mean, maybe you should have doctored the little pecker better.” I choke on my coffee.
“Eh … I put my hand there … eh … on his … and touched … ” I break off as my eyes lock on Deimos standing at the door.
“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” he teases, “This sounds interesting.”
“Go away!” Haley looks reproachfully over her shoulder at her man.
“So, where’s the wuss?”
“She ran after stepping on his groin.” The way she pulls her face says more than her words. He expresses a pained sneer as if feeling his son’s torment.
“I’ll wait for him at the pool.” As if he knows Damion is going to show up, he walks away and then chuckles softly, talking to himself, “Poor boy is fucked.”
“Poor boy my ass -” Lost filter again. “He’s …” I put my finger on my lip to try and find the right adjectives to describe Damion Grimm, but Haley beats me to it.
“Cocky, full of himself, obnoxious, annoying, wild, demanding, stubborn, exhausting …” I watch as she absentmindedly scoops the last piece of cake onto her fork and moves it to her mouth.
“Exactly, see, you get it.” Her empty fork swings through the air.
“You were saying …” She swallows some coffee.
“So we were like kissing and my hand moved … there … and it was the first time I’ve touched a dick …” She snorts and coughs, blowing some coffee through her nose. Should I be telling her this? It’s her son after all. But I can’t seem to stop. “And I don’t know if it’s big … or not … it felt big and hard … and will it fit …” Shit. What am I saying to this woman? Dammit. My brain is totally malfunctioning. She gasps and then bellows hysterically.
Great. Now I broke his mom too.
“You … ha ha … ran away … hee hee … from a dick?” she gets out between hollers.
“Oh, girl, you’re just precious.” She’s still cracking up. “Well, I last saw his tools when he was just a boy … but if he’s like his dad, he should be a total fatty.” I almost gag thinking that we’re discussing the size of male organs here, and lick my lips.
“I get it. My first time was a total disaster. Senior year, just after a big math test, I did it with the boy next door in a treehouse. No wild orgasm … although I did get a lot of splinters in my butt,” she giggles.
“But girl, it’s not the size but the moves that blow the circuits.”
“I’m pretty sure Damion has got all the moves. After all, he had a ton of practice.” She scowls as if she just heard that the quidditch match got canceled. Jeez, did I say that out loud?
“Does that bother you, pumpkin?” Yes. No. I don’t know.
“It’s not that … he’s crushed my heart before.”
“Oh, the boardwalk … and the zoo … he told me about that. But it’s not as you think -”
She gets interrupted by the loud bang of the front door … and I’m sure it got slammed straight off its hinges. The next moment a very VERY angry Damion bursts into the kitchen. His T-shirt is clinging to his body, glistening with sweat. He must have sprinted all the way here.
I continue the trail of adjectives that Haley started in my head … hot, handsome, strong, manly, godlike, sexy, perfect …
“What the fuck, Mel -” He slams his hands on the table and his eyes are fuming green, shooting daggers right at me. The look is exactly what they had in mind when they created the saying ‘if looks could kill’.
But unfortunately for him, I’ve grown up with 4 Alphas just like him, so I’m used to handling my own. Hell, if you can survive an angry Jackson, you can survive anything!
I get up and mimic his stance, putting my hands on the table, and leaning forward until my face is close to his, my eyes meeting those angry sapphire volcanoes.
“Greet your mother, you mannerless ape!” I hiss, my eyes staring into his, and I’m not going to back down, even if it kills me. He arches his brows, while I try to ignore the pull of sinews when his arm muscles flex. Frock, it would be so much easier if he looked like an ogre.
A vein throbs beneath the perfect skin in his neck and I swallow imaginary spit down my dry throat while restraining myself from licking it. Yearning flows through me, yearning for a man. This man. I feel silly for staring at his neck as if I’m going to suck him dry.
“Hello, son. Glad you could make it.” Haley’s voice is dripping with sugar and honey and sweet sweet sarcasm. This irates him even more.
“Not now, Mom!” He doesn’t look at her – his eyes are on me as if pondering what to do next – but her eyebrows pull up and a small smile pulls at her mouth. Our eyes lock again.
For a beat, he only glares right into my soul – eyes hot with unspoken promises that are melting my underwear, and flaring my anger.
“I know it must be hard for you, being the brainless moron you are, but use freaking words to talk to me instead of that fucked up glare you have on your face,” I remark.
Haley gulps, sounding almost like a lama giving birth, probably because I used a real swear word, but Damion’s gaze does not wander even a little. Instead, it gets even scarier and more intense. He grabs my arm and I shake him off.
“Go to hell!” I hiss at him.
“Oh, darling, where do you think I came from.” He gives me a devilish smile that would tap a church lady into an orgasm, and a shiver runs down my spine. He’s the frickin spawn of Hades from down under.
Damn, I was right, I really am in love with the devil.
My tense body stiffens, and between the millions of raging feelings seething through my brain, flight mode pushes forward. I want to run.