The Promise (Wolfe Creek Duet #2)

9

THEA

“Again,” Wes encourages. We’re both pouring sweat, having been in the gym training for the last hour. I take a rope in each hand and meet his gaze from across the room. “Go.”

My arms alternate up and down, lifting the heavy ropes until I can barely breathe and my muscles burn fiercely. I collapse, looking up at the ceiling while heavily panting. My body isn’t used to this level of brutality.

I’ve wanted to give up on this so many times lately. However, some days, it’s the only thing that quiets my mind. Even the loud music hasn’t been able to do that as well as it used to. The pain of tearing my body to shreds in here is a distraction from all the internal anguish. And it doesn’t hurt that I’m getting stronger. I need that.

A face appears above me. “Good morning, princess. Looking good,” Damian says as he runs his tongue over his lips. His intense gaze sweeps over my body, making my skin prickle.

Propping myself up on my elbows, I smirk. “Not looking too bad yourself.” He’s wearing a form fitting black shirt and dark blue jeans. For someone who has money, he dresses casually more often than not. But he does have a way of making casual look oh so good.

He’s about to respond, probably with some smart ass comment, but Wes beats him to it. “Need me to leave? With the two of you eye fucking each other so hard, you might as well do it already.” He walks over, extending a hand for me to take.

“Oh please, you’d want to stay and watch,” I retort as he yanks me to my feet. Wiping my brow, I grab my water bottle and chug until it’s empty.

Wes’ phone dings. His hand slips into his shorts’ pocket, but he doesn’t check it.

“While I’d love to give you a second workout today, we have other plans,” Damian states. I level a gaze at him. We don’t have plans. “Get showered and dressed. We leave in thirty minutes.”

“Damian, I don’t have anything planned with you.” I bring up my calendar mentally. Today’s a clear day. No clients and certainly no dates on the schedule. I would’ve remembered.

He turns to leave. “I’m taking you somewhere. Dress casual, wear sneakers. I’ll be waiting upstairs.”

Wes and I stare after him as he leaves. He shrugs. “You heard the man. Go get ready.” He pulls me in for a kiss. His hand around my waist dips lower as he squeezes my ass. Running my hands up his bare chest, I snake my arms around his neck and bring him even closer. The push of his hard cock against me makes me groan into his mouth.

The sound must call to some primal part of him. His nails dig into my ass so hard that the barrier of the fabric does little to protect me. I’m sure his marks will be there, as if I was wearing nothing at all. And that calls to a feral part of me. I drag my nails over his bare back, leaving marks of my own.

Pulling away, I sigh. As much as I’d like a post workout romp with Wes, I apparently have somewhere to be. His phone dings again. “Someone’s popular this morning,” I remark. Now that I think about it, his phone’s been going off more than normal lately.

A familiar paranoia creeps in—one from my past with Gavin. I shove it down. Wes isn’t like that. Then his phone dings again.

“New client,” he mentions. “Probably confirming our hike this morning and the location.” I hate that everything puts me on high alert these days. It’s tiring and unnecessary, in most cases. Still, I can’t seem to help it.

I turn my thoughts back to Damian. He’s not the surprise type, not in this way, at least. He’s more of the surprise I paid your rent or surprise I’ll buy an expensive property for you. So I’m curious and a little anxious to find out where we’re going. I hurry to my room to shower and change.

When I’m ready, I make my way upstairs to find him in the kitchen. He hands me an apple, granola bar, and water. I’m throwing everything into my bag when Adrian comes into the kitchen.

He’s been hiding away, so I’ve thankfully been able to avoid him for the most part.

“Morning,” he grumbles, looking at Damian. Then he glares at me. Neither of us says anything.

His inky hair is half pulled up, so that his near black eyes are prominent beneath even darker brows. I hate being around him.

“Can I help you with something?” I sneer.

Adrian shakes his head as he opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of water. “Nah. I hear you ruin people’s lives, so I’m good.”

Fury pulses to life, starting low in my stomach and rising to my chest. I’m about to tell him off when Damian steps in. “Adrian, that’s enough.”

“She started it,” he accuses, pointing at me. I throw him a smug look of satisfaction, rubbing it in his face that his brother’s taken my side.

Damian narrows his cold gaze at Adrian, a warning to him. Then he looks at me with equal iciness.

“Let’s go,” he commands. “Bunch of fucking children,” he mutters as I follow him out the door.

Damian pulls into the parking lot in front of a plain, white building that reads Straight Shot Range . It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he’s brought me to a gun range. My stomach sinks.

The guys have been carrying guns since my kidnapping. I still haven’t gotten used to it. Seeing the weapons in their holsters or laying on the kitchen counter unnerves me. I understand why they feel the need for protection, but it doesn’t make it any less scary.

“Damian, why are we here?”

He gets out of the car and comes around my side, opening the door. “We’re here so you can learn how to use a gun and not flinch every time you see one.” I scowl. He’s been paying too much attention to me—that makes me nervous for a few reasons.

“Fine, but I don’t have to like it. And I don’t want to hear anything about being a brat.” I stay seated, refusing to get up until he acknowledges my request.

He rolls his neck, clearly already exhausted with my stubbornness. “Fine.” Extending his hand, I take it, a makeshift handshake agreeing to the terms.

Damian must know the owner because we walk in and he gives the man behind the counter a nod before walking to the door that leads to the firing line. Through the plexiglass window I see that all the lanes are empty.

It’s early on a Wednesday, so I wouldn’t expect it to be busy, but completely empty is odd.

“I rented the whole place for us,” Damian mentions casually, like people do that all the time.

He leads us to the last lane, tucked back in the corner. In front of me there’s a chipped wood countertop and dividers on either side. At the end of the lane is a wall with casings pushed up against it.

Damian digs in the duffle bag he’s brought with him and pulls out a small plastic case, then two earmuffs, cases of bullets, eyewear, and targets—he sets the items on the countertop.

“Rule one, treat every gun as if it’s loaded,” he says, staring at me with a serious look in those beautiful blue eyes. “Rule two, never point a gun at anything you’re not willing to kill.”

He opens the small plastic case and inside I see a black gun. Before he takes it out, he flicks a switch and I notice something flying toward us. He lets off the switch, grabs a target sheet and clips it on the line before sending it flying back down the lane.

Looking at me, he motions with his head to come closer. “This isn’t just a lesson on shooting. I want you to know everything about this weapon. Shooting can be the easy part, but knowing how to load and unload this gun, knowing if the safety is on or off… those things can be the difference between life and death.”

“Damian…” I want to argue against what he’s saying. I want to tell him that this may not even be necessary. And then I think of the notes. And of Cole’s visits. That’s not a lie I can get away with. As much as I don’t want it to be, learning how to use this gun is a good idea. “Okay, show me.”

For the next thirty minutes, Damian goes over all the parts of the gun and teaches me how to use everything except the trigger. He runs me through drills of loading the gun, taking off the safety, and stances.

“Ready?” He asks. I nod, even though I’m not sure I am. Grabbing the earmuffs, he fits them to my head. Then puts his own on. He repeats this with the goggles. He tips his chin up, signaling me to get into position.

I put my left foot forward, leaving my right foot slightly behind. Loading the gun, I pick it up and extend my arms forward with my finger off of the trigger. A hand on my back makes me look over my shoulder. Damian takes a deep breath, encouraging me to do the same, and gives me a nod.

Looking forward, I inhale, click the safety off, and exhale. Keeping my eye on the target, I slide my finger over the trigger and pull. The gun bucks in my hand, its recoil surprises me.

I search the paper target for my shot, but find nothing.

“It’s okay! It was your first shot,” Damian shouts, so I can hear him. “Again!”

Getting back into position, I take aim and fire. And fire. And fire. I keep firing until the magazine is empty. The target comes zooming toward me. Clicking the safety back on, I set the gun down and grab the paper.

I count five holes. Pulling down my earmuffs, I excitedly show Damian. “Five! I got five!” He smiles at me in a way I’ve never seen before. There’s a light in his eyes, a sparkle even. It takes me by surprise.

“Six,” he corrects, his smile growing as he points to the one I missed. The one along the outside edge of the black center. Not a perfect bullseye, but close. My eyes widen. “You did so good, princess.”

Throwing my arms around him, I hug him close and for longer than I normally would. “Thank you.”

Damian chuckles, his chest vibrating against mine. “What for?”

“For always knowing what I need, even when I don’t know it.” I feel him still against me, then his arms hug me tighter. I wish I knew what Damian truly needed. I want to give him that, but I don’t know if he’ll ever open up to me in that way. Maybe he doesn’t know what he needs.

“Let’s go again. Reload the magazine.” I obey. While I reload, he continues talking. “Thea, this,” he says, pointing around us, “is an ideal scenario. No distractions. No time constraints. No real threat. But that won’t be the case if you ever have to use this gun outside of here. There’ll be distractions and it could be down to the wire. It could be life or death, whether you make that shot. I want you to be fully prepared to focus. You’ll have to hone in and let everything else fall away so that it’s just you, this gun, and your target.”

That makes sense. This is easy. Practicing here isn’t what it’ll be like if I have to use this on someone. But I don’t know how to replicate a situation where I’d be under pressure or distracted. For now, I’ll just have to practice aiming and hope that if it comes to it, I’ll be focused enough to survive.

Putting my earmuffs back on, I take my position and aim. Three shots in and I feel Damian behind me. His closeness makes me lose focus. I look back at him, confused, but he motions for me to look ahead.

Steadying myself, I aim and shoot again.

This time, Damian’s hands land on my hips, making me tense. Then his lips kiss the back of my neck, distracting me. Oh fuck, he’s doing this on purpose. I want to tell him to stop, but I’m curious if I can stay focused. Staring at the target, I lock eyes on the center. My finger hovers over the trigger as Damian’s hand slides over my stomach before dipping under my waistband. I fire.

My eyes fall closed as his fingers slide over my pussy, gathering my wetness before circling my clit. Then he stops. I turn my head to look at him. There’s a silent message in his eyes that I completely understand somehow. He’s telling me to keep going and he will, too.

Looking ahead, I hone in and prepare to fire. Damian’s fingers dig into my hip while his other hand teases me, making my skin grow hot as the need for release builds. I fire. He pushes a finger inside of me and I gasp at the sudden intrusion. But I fire again—needing him to keep going.

I don’t care if I hit the target. I need him to hit mine.

Pushing my ass into him, I rub against his hardness. I need him right now. He pulls his hand from my hip and smacks my ass hard—a warning that he’s in control. I take a steadying breath and direct my gaze ahead. I fire again.

Pulling my ear protection away, he tells me, “Focus on your task. Understand?” I nod. I want to. I want to focus, but I want something else just as much. “Correct your aim,” he instructs. I do it. “Good girl.” His finger teases that sensitive spot inside of me as he says it. “Finger on the trigger.” My finger slides into place as he strokes me again. I’m doing my best to stay still, to not give into what my body wants to do. I want to press down onto his hand, pushing him farther into me. I want to grind against his palm, controlling how quickly I get to the edge. Fuck. Between him talking through my task, his touch, and my thoughts, I’m screwed. “Fire for me, princess,” he growls low and rough before letting the earmuff fall back into place.

I do and somehow hit the target.

My hearing’s restored when he pulls the protection away again. “You’re doing so good for me,” he whispers. He rewards me, adding another finger and leisurely fucking me before he pulls out to give my clit some more attention. I’m so goddamn close. Little bursts of electricity dance over my skin as the pressure builds. My breath speeds up—it’s getting so much harder to keep my hands steady. “Again.” The world goes quieter again. I fire.

Damian plants soft kisses down my neck before flicking his tongue over the sensitive curve where my shoulder starts. It sends a shiver down my back. His fingers keep a steady pace, pushing me closer. I want to close my eyes, to throw myself into the abyss of pleasure. I want nothing more than to lose myself in the oblivion of it, where no thoughts exist. But I can’t. He wants me to focus on this.

I prepare to pull the trigger again. As I do, I feel it. I’m about to fall over the edge. One more shot before it happens. My finger takes over and I fire just as I feel my body explode in waves of pleasure. I flick the safety on and set the gun down.

My hands grip the edge of the countertop as I ride my climax, trying to keep my voice down before I remember that we’re in a soundproof room. I let go all the way, surrendering to the screams and moans clawing at my throat until I fall limp.

I’m still panting and putting myself back together as the target comes zooming toward us. With one hand, Damian pulls down my earmuffs while he removes the other from my pants. He wraps his arm over the front of me and grips my mouth roughly, forcing me to straighten.

“You know what that is?” He asks as he slips his fingers, coated in my come, into my mouth. “That’s the taste of success, princess.” My eyes widen, not just because he’s making me taste myself, but also because I’m staring at one perfect shot at the center of the target. “You did such a good job focusing.”

The praise leaves me blushing and glowing at the same time. I can’t help feeling satisfied that I made him proud.