Revelations [Part 1]

Damon POV

Why would she lie?

Removing my hand from the ignition, I lean back in my seat, staring up at Amaya's house. I stare into a window that reveals Jake flexing in front of his mirror. Aya lied to me again. Why tell me she is on holiday if she's not? I just don't get it.

"You suddenly gay? See, dude, I told you, saying you're bi is just a rest stop before gay town, everyone knows that!" My healing fist throbs as it makes contact with Nick's arm and I peel my eyes away from the window to look at him as it does. He has his ass firmly planted in my passenger seat. Amaya's seat.

"Seriously," he laughs, "Got something you wanna tell me?"

Choosing to ignore him, my eyes cut to Aya's front door as an older man exits with a garbage bag in hand. Her step-father, I recognize. Max, if I remember correctly. As much as I was inside that house and at their dining table, I was never completely certain of his name. Shoving away my thoughts, I climb out of the car and jog over to him.

"Excuse me, sir?" He looks at me as he opens the bin. I don't fail to notice the frustration that swipes over his face, along with the recognition. I should hope he recognizes me. I may as well have lived in that house.

"Yes?" He throws the bag into the bin and lets the lid drop on its own, prompting a loud bang. As he fully turns to face me, I again notice the emblems and badges covering his uniform. I was a ball of shock when I was made aware that Aya's step-father is the town's police Captain. Shocked because he is quite obviously highly skilled and incredibly intelligent, however gullible, but can't see his own step-daughter withering away. The fact that he can't see it makes me uneasy. Enough that I decide to lie.

"Sorry to bother you, sir. I was wondering if Aya was home. We have a project for school together."

He stares at me weirdly for a moment before saying very quietly, "She has mono. Won't be out of bed for a while." Nodding goodbye and turning on his heel, he disappears back into the house.

Back in the car, Nick stares at me expectantly, "What?"

It eases my nerves that although he is capable of listening from such distances, he chooses not to. Out of respect. Something that Max apparently has very little of for me. I want to believe the man. I don't want to think of the other alternatives. However, my wolf, my heart, my soul, nothing inside me believes that the woman in question has mono. She'd have told me if she was sick, she wouldn't lie to me.

Which means Max did.

Shaking my head, I glance down at my phone, startled by how late we are. Throwing the car into reverse, I roll down the driveway, slowing and angling the car appropriately at the lip of the drive. All whilst mentally preparing for a bombardment of questions from Nick as I drive.

*_*_*_*

Amaya POV

The gorgeous woman smiles at my reflection in her mirror as she carefully applies the last of her bright pink lipstick, smacking her lips once done. She turns to look at me face-to-face and although she tries to hide it, with my wonderful new eyes I notice her smile falter just that little bit. I choose to ignore it.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" I nod. I have to be up to this. I have to do it. For Lily.

After making sure our hair and make-up are as perfect as we can get it, we head out to the bus.

Before we even enter the underground building about a half-hour bus ride later, the stomping and shouting assaults my ears. I thought the sounds and smells in here were atrocious before . . Now, it's actually assaulting my senses. The smells are rancid and the sounds just plain obnoxious.

Amber and I smile at each other, goodbye for the night. We'll barely see passing glances of each other until we finish for the night. No breaks in our work. Amber makes a bee-line for the bar. My guess is to numb herself before she has to sleep with a bunch of randoms. Alcohol's never done it for me. Pot is a bit different.

Once Amber blends in with the crowds and I lose sight of her I head straight for the edge of the pit, wondering if Damon will be fighting tonight. I can't let him spot me but I can't deny that I want to see him. Especially in skins. Weaving through the mass of people, I glance down into the pit, trying to get a look. One look confirms that he's already fighting, just the sight of his hair ribbon flying every which way. Before I can see anything else I'm yanked back from the edge. Don hands me a large silver tray with several beers and water bottles as I attempt to regain my balance.

"Take these to the men's locker room. There are two ordered beers in there. Sell the rest off too," he instructs me. Before I can do anything except nod he's grasping my arm and fixing my dress, silently. The urge to rip limbs off him hits me hard enough that I look away from him as he stuffs his hands down my dress, repositioning my breasts, attempting to set them higher on my chest. Gone are the double D breast days, I actually miss them, Goddess knows why.

Don sends me away with a smack on the ass. Another bruise. I easily weave in and out of the crowds of people, the only hard thing about it being the heavy drink tray in my hands.

In the locker room, I call out, "Two beers!"

Two men find me rather quickly and I hand them their beers, tucking the money they give me into my bra. Surprisingly, they don't dart off with their beverages, they hang around.

"Hey baby," the man with the black hair greets me. "You doing anything tonight?" The blonde male walks away, shaking his head and chuckling to himself. Once again, I swallow my pride.

Batting my eyes, I plant a flirtatious smile on my face. "Depends. What are you doing?" The male pulls a wad of cash out of his sweatpants, a big wad of one hundred dollar notes. It's a mighty effort to not break character. A smile rises on his face, knowing he has me. He slips one of the notes into my bra and takes the remainder of the drinks from me, handing them around. It earns him a round of cheers, having bought their drinks. He then takes the empty tray from me, tossing it over to the wall. A loud clang echoes as it makes contact. The guy doesn't waste time, he gets in close, grinding against me and slipping more notes into my bra as he leans down to kiss my neck. I turn around and he grips my hips tightly, his member beginning to harden against my ass.

"You are one sexy woman," he breathes, the alcohol on his breath smelling foul. Taking in a deep breath I move with him, grinding against him to the rhythm of the pumping music. That foul breath breathes down my neck as his teeth tug on my earlobe.

"Mmm, tell me more," I whisper, licking my lips as I look back at him. He chuckles quietly, his hand pulling up the bottom of my dress. He grips my ass hard, smiling when his fingers brush against my thong.

"We should take this elsewhere, like now," he chuckles, his lips returning to my neck. I lift my head, giving him better access to the base of my neck. As I lift my head, I make eye contact with Damon's friend.

Nick chokes on his beer when he sees me. He looks me up and down a few times, his eyes wide and beer all but forgotten. My chest tightens, my heart would be in my ears if it still beat. But I need to keep up appearances. Slowly, I break away from the dark-haired male with a seductive wink, telling him to come find me later on. Only then do I whirl around to Nick.

He almost slams his beer on the table beside him, "You're Bullet's showgirl?!"

My head pounds faster and faster by the second, my hands trembling as I shake my head. "Don't tell him. Please don't tell him." Not Damon. Anyone but Damon.

"But you look so . . ." What he just saw me doing must fully sink in as his eyes widen much more. I can almost see the thoughts flying through his head, processing what I am forced and paid to do. I watch as his eyes find the notes sticking out of my bra and I suddenly remember how high my dress is as his eyes rest on it. Hurriedly, I pull it back over my ass.

"Don't," he says, shaking his head quickly. I cringe, seeing that people are now beginning to take notice of our conversation. He notices too. We end up staring at each other in awkward silence until there is a round of shouting and stomping. The fight is over. Knowing I now have to leave, I walk right past Nick. I can't let Damon see me. He'll stop being nice to me, he'll realize what I'm used for and he'll use me too. I want one nice person, just one. Before I can escape Nick's hand closes around my arm, stopping me.

I turn pleading eyes to him, "Please. He can't see me. Please, Nick." He looks positively torn and I really try to make it easy for him, I try to wrench my arm from his grip with my newfound Hybrid strength. Somehow, he's still stronger. He keeps an iron grip on me until the shouting and stomping die down and he finally makes a decision.

"I'll give you triple whatever is in your dress right now if you come with me."

My eyes widen. I'd counted them as the male put them in my dress. "But that's like eighteen hundred."

"Done. Come on." I let him lead me out of the locker room, through the crowds, and into a small empty bedroom across the building. An unused one by the looks of the slightly dusty bed sheets. Nick closes the door and turns to face me. I can't look him in the face, my lips already trembling.

"Do you remember my sister? Sonja?" I nod, my legs also beginning to shake and ache.

"Do you need her to look at you?" I shake my head. "Sit down at least, you look like you're gonna fall over."

I again shake my head. If I sit, I'm not sure if I'll have the strength to stand again. My refusal makes Nick sigh and he places the beer I hadn't realized he still had, down on the tallboy beside him. His phone rings a second later and he picks it up, gesturing for me to keep quiet.

"Hey, Damon. What's up?"

Nick walks around the small space we have, almost pacing. Despite everything, it's surprising that I can now hear who is on the other end of the phone. The better hearing isn't all bad, I guess.

"Where are you? Aren't we meeting where we agreed?" He sounds so different. Like he's tired.

"Ah yeah, I know. I'll be back in a minute. Just needed some fresh air, felt sick." Nick glances over at me, clearly not knowing what to do, not being able to decide whose side to take.

"What's going on? Do you need help?" I almost smile at how concerned Damon suddenly sounds. He's so caring, so selfless, and compassionate.

What Nick says next doesn't surprise me, "Fucking hell . . I'm in the last bedroom on the left. See you in a sec." I start for the door but he takes hold of my wrist, turning me to face him.

"Just let us help. Let him help. Please, Aya. It's more than clear you don't want to be here. Let him help. He can, I promise you. He has so much power, he can help." I wrench my arm back, surprising us both when I succeed.

"It will only make things worse," I whisper, without the courage to speak any louder as my tears well.

His brows pull together, "What? I don't . . How?" I shake my head and reach for the door handle, and he lets me go.

But that luck doesn't last long. As I turn the door handle, the door swings open into me. I stumble back to not get hit, stomach lodged in my throat and twisting in knots. Damon kicks the door shut behind him and looks from Nick to me. His jaw visibly drops when he recognizes me. Took him a minute to get past the hair apparently. Immediately, he's ripping the bandana off his face.

"Amaya?" His voice, saying that name does something to me. The dam inside me breaks and my tears begin running. Damon wastes no time. He consumes the few steps between us and wraps his huge, sweaty arms around me. I practically melt into him, crying harder with every moment he holds me. I don't hear when Nick leaves. I only hear Damon's slightly fast heartbeat and the blood pumping through his veins. Only feel his hands, rubbing up and down my back, holding me in a comfortable silence until my tears subside. When they do he still holds me, gently rocking back and forth.

"Come on," he eventually whispers, "You're coming home with me." I shake my head, knowing that Don will have my head on a platter if I go home early, and don't come into work tomorrow without a few hundred dollars.

"Why not?"

"My manager won't let me," I tell him, not yet ready to let go of him. I squeeze my arms around him harder, not at all minding if I end up melting into him.

"Who, Don? Don't worry about him. I'll deal with him if he has a problem, or gives you a problem," Damon tells me, his voice steady and strong. Without warning then, he scoops me up into his arms, holding me close to his bare chest.

"I know you're not going to like it but we've gotta act like we're uh, like we're leaving together." I nod, like we're leaving together for one specific reason. So, after taking a deep breath and pulling his mask back up, he opens the door and starts towards the exit. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I giggle loudly, forcing my legs to swing and blinking past the pain it brings. I run my hands through his sweaty hair and he glances down at me every few seconds, conveying his apology through his eyes as his hands roam. Those hands, unsurprisingly, reach up to the backs of my thighs and I can't help my cringe as pain flairs. As well as the second cringe when I see the alarm spark in his eyes, his own darting back to mine.

Before long we're out of the building and his hands go back to appropriate places. He lets me down by his car and when it's so painfully obvious I'm having trouble getting in, he silently assists me. I love the look of his car so low, I only wish my body were able to handle it.

On the drive to his house, Damon keeps on the mask, seeing as he isn't able to cover the tattoo. But he still speaks to me, however, muffled.

"Are you feeling okay?"

Looking out my window, I respond quietly, "I promise I won't vomit in your car again." I really am sorry. His car is spotless but still doesn't smell like it used to.

He swallows, "That's not quite what I meant but it's okay, don't worry about it. The smell will disappear eventually. I barely notice it, anyway." Something about his tone confirms with me that he's lying.

Once at Damon's house, I notice that Maxwell's car isn't home and I thank the stars for it. Damon helps me out of the car and I follow him inside. As he goes running around the house, I take a seat on his couch, slouching for once. I inhale deeply, warmth filling me. I adore the smell of this house with my new nose, like a big ol' bakery. He comes back with a hoodie and sweats and two glasses of water. Passing me the hoodie and sweats, he places the glasses on the coffee table.

"Put these on." My cheeks burn when he turns around, allowing me the privacy I so rarely receive. So I change as quickly as I can manage, without getting off the couch. When he turns back around and sees my heels still on, he frowns.

"You can take your heels off too if you want." I smile sheepishly, sinking into the couch and avoiding his gaze, knowing without a doubt that it will hurt far too much to try and unstrap the heels from my ankles.

"Do you want . . ."

My cheeks feel like they're on fire as I nod, still avoiding his eyes. His hands are warm against my cold ankles as he unbuckles my heels and slips them off. As the straps slack my body relaxes into the comfort surrounding it. It's not often that I get something other than my old, stained, and holy mattress. The couch may as well eat me and my eyes begin to become heavy. Damon sits close to my side, resting his arm on the couch behind my head.

"Do you want to sleep for a while?"

"No. I'm just a little tired," I tell him through a yawn. He simply smiles, as if knowing something I don't and reaches forward, taking a strand of my hair in his fingers.

Tugging on one of my curls, he whispers, "Sweet dreams, Kitten."