Violent Angel (Pretty Broken Things #1)

8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

I f Elliot had any doubts about whether spoiling Damon in small ways was a good idea, they vanished the second the first pastry was devoured. Flakes clinging to his bottom lip and all over his hospital gown, Damon let out a soft moan and licked the strawberry jelly off his fingertips.

Usually, Elliot couldn’t stand this kind of mess, but…fuck, the blood pulsing right down to his dick made him not mind it at all. Doing anything about the surge of lust was off the table until Damon healed, but he was good with that, too. He could deal with the uncomfortable ache, considering he’d rarely felt much of anything sexual at all, despite how often he faked it.

There was no act here, nothing forced, no self-loathing or disgust over what happened next.

Nothing had to happen if he didn’t want it to. Ever.

And he had a feeling it wouldn’t change how Damon treated him at all.

Better yet, the smile he earned when he offered a chocolate covered croissant sent a different kind of ache straight to the center of his chest. Almost like different parts of his body were being brought to life for the first time, the sensations almost overwhelming, making him aware of himself in a whole new way.

His heart getting involved was the most dangerous, but he wasn’t an idiot. He wouldn’t let it make his choices for him, most of these intense feelings probably wouldn’t last.

But why not enjoy them while they did?

“I’m probably going to regret this, but I could probably manage one more.” Damon accepted the croissant, tearing off a small chunk, then giving Elliot a thoughtful look. “Just in case? We should share.”

Elliot wasn’t sure what he meant at first. He frowned when Damon pushed himself off the pillows propped up behind him, sitting up and reaching out with the morsel between his fingers. “Careful, you’ll—”

The flaky, buttery pastry slid past his lips, chocolate melting on his tongue and the heat of Damon’s fingertips. Catching Damon’s wrist, he held him close, licking each slightly calloused pad clean.

“Mmm…” Damon gave him a hooded look, making no effort to pull away. “Keep that up, and I’m gonna bribe the doc to say I’m all healed.”

Face heating, Elliot released Damon’s hand. “You’re not. You need more time—I wasn’t trying to start anything, it’s just…” He glanced down at the crumbs on the blanket. “I should clean this. And get you some…Jell-o.”

“Only if it’s the purple kind.” Damon chuckled when Elliot arched a brow at him. “Not just because I’ve got a thing for the color as of yesterday. I had my appendix taken out when I was a kid and ate so much, I couldn’t stand it for the longest time. But me and Rome went to Hooters when we both turned legal and they had these amazing Jell-o shots. Have you ever tried them?”

Elliot shook his head. “I only really drink when it’s to keep up appearances. Or to maintain my high alcohol tolerance. Getting tipsy on the job could get me killed.”

“I can see that.” Damon’s lips tightened slightly, and it looked like he wanted to say something, then changed his mind. “There’s no reason for you not to have some fun when you’re working on your tolerance. Remind me when I’m all better and I’ll make you some of my favorites. I’ve been wanting something other than toilet brew since I got out.”

The idea of trying something other than the wine he hated, the champagne he barely tolerated, and the vodka his trainers tended to serve piqued his interest, but the mention of ‘toilet brew’ made him physically recoil. “Please tell me you’re joking about drinking alcohol out of the toilet?”

Spitting out a laugh, Damon nibbled on the last bit of croissant. “Not out of the toilet, but most of it was brewed there, so…afraid so. It’s called ‘Pruno’ and it’s the nastiest stuff you’ve ever tasted, but when you’re desperate enough to find a bit of an escape from prison life, you’ll try anything.”

“I can attest to that.” Standing in the doorway for who knew how long, Parker spoke as though he had every right to be there, approaching the bed and holding out his hand. “Parker Peterson. Before you ask, yes, the name is an intentional Spiderman reference. My dad was a fan.” He shook Damon’s extended hand, then made himself comfortable on the bed beside Elliot. “I’ve done a few prison jobs because Gerard doesn’t like sending the smaller guys in. They become an immediate target and that doesn’t help with keeping things low profile.”

Damon glanced between Elliot and Parker. “And because of safety concerns, too, I’m guessing?”

Parker’s eyes shone with amusement. “ Suuure , something like that. Anyway, I screwed up and got myself sent to solitary my first time inside. When I got out, I was a nervous wreck. My cellmate was a decent guy—aside from the whole killing his boss and almost blowing up his office thing. He found me some Pruno to get me to mellow out. Gerard had to pull me from the mission because I got botulism.”

“I remember that.” Elliot bumped his shoulder into Parker’s, not minding his friend’s company so much with how relaxed Damon had gotten, listening to the story. There were moments he wondered if the realities of the job would have Damon planning his escape, but he seemed to be absorbing it all pretty well. “You had to go back into training for nine months after that stunt.”

Expression intent, Damon nodded slowly, as though to himself. “So the higher ups don’t coddle you, but they’re not sending you on these missions without making sure you’ll come out alive? Or at least have the best chance for survival?”

“Exactly. We spend a lot of blood credits on specialized training, but that doesn’t cover even half of what’s invested in each of us. Bringing in a new guy can take months, if not years to get him ready for even the easiest missions.” Parker patted Elliot’s thigh. “Those of us who started training young are extremely valuable. We don’t have the hang ups that come from growing up with the normies.”

Another slow nod, Damon covering Elliot’s hand with his own, almost as though to assure him he was trying really hard to understand. “In other words, you won’t hesitate to do whatever you’re asked to do.”

“Why would we?” Elliot struggled to keep the defensiveness out of his tone, but it was hard. He wasn’t used to having these kinds of conversations. To… explaining what he did to anyone. Those closest to him were in just as deep as he was. “Nexus does most of the recon long before we’re ever brought on, and each target is chosen for the level of harm they’ve either caused, or been involved in directly. I’m not thinking twice about gutting a pedophile or a rapist.”

“I’m not saying you should.” Damon sighed, squeezing Elliot’s hand before he could pull away. “Hey, I’m not judging you. And with some of the shit I’ve seen people get away with, it’s kinda a relief to know there’s groups like yours, taking things into their own hands. I’m just wrapping my head around it all.”

A throat clear from the doorway brought all of their attention to where Gerard stood, his expression hard and unimpressed. “I’m sure your approval is much appreciated—as unnecessary as it should be. Parker, you’re needed downstairs for your briefing. Elliot, let your friend rest, we wouldn’t want to delay his healing.” He turned without waiting for an answer from anyone. “And I’d like a word.”

“Shit, sorry, man. I should’ve closed the door.” Parker shot Elliot a sympathetic look, reaching over to pat Damon’s arm before rising from the bed. “Was good to meet you, Damon. Ignore Gerard, eh? He’s always a tight ass. I don’t know what his husband sees in him.”

Gerard’s voice carried from the living room. “I heard that, Parker.”

“You were meant to, daddy!” Parker winked at Elliot, then ducked out of the room, having successfully drawn Gerard’s ire to himself from the sharp, barely audible exchange that followed.

He really is a great friend .

“Gerard’s not wrong—about your healing.” Elliot stood, his lips curving when Damon caught his hand before he could step away. “Did you miss being cuffed to me?”

Giving him a long look, Damon tugged him closer. He almost managed to hide his wince. “No, but Elliot? He was right about you not needing my approval. I don’t get a say about shit—not after knowing you for less than a day.” He inhaled roughly. “You can’t be on the job all the time, though, right? Talk to your boss, then, when you’re done, I’ll be here if you want to hang out. And not because I don’t have a choice.”

The warm ache in Elliot’s chest was back, and he smiled as he nodded. “Yeah, I kinda figured. You could be making my life miserable while I’m holding you captive.”

“You can’t hold the willing captive.” Damon stroked his thumb over Elliot’s palm before letting him go. “Good luck.”

Leaving the room, Elliot carefully schooled his features, suspecting Gerard wouldn’t be as thrilled about him being in an inexplicably good mood as Parker had been. His handler was used to him being stoic unless they were on a mission together, where teasing and flirty smiles made him more appealing to the mark.

Damon’s comment about not being on the job all the time came back to him, slowing his pace as he crossed the living room to where Gerard stood by the window with his back to him. It was pretty much the same thing he’d said to Lux earlier, but even though he’d meant every word, he hadn’t…truly considered how it applied to his own life.

Or how long he’d been living as though all that mattered was the job.

Whatever this thing with Damon was, it had him thinking really hard about what he wanted going forward. In less than twenty-four-hours, after one good night’s sleep, he wasn’t satisfied with the status quo.

Which was probably exactly what Gerard was worried about.

“I’ve never had to have a conversation like this with you, mot?nel.” Gerard continued staring out the window, his tone grim, his expression making it obvious he wasn’t admiring the pretty colors of the mountains. “Virgil warned me even the ones we start training young end up wanting a semblance of normalcy. I’ve never attempted to stop you from having it, because our goals always aligned.”

Brow furrowed, Elliot moved to Gerard’s side, gaze on his firm jaw and dark eyes, the man not as high above him as when he was a child, but still imposing and larger than life when he wanted to be. “They still align. I came back because of our agreement—”

“Making that agreement was a mistake on my part. If I’d insisted on sending Damon somewhere else for his treatment, and simply given you the extra assignments to cover his care, you wouldn’t be in this position.” Gerard sighed, glancing over and putting his hand on Elliot’s shoulder. “But it’s too late to avoid the damage. You’re a young man, Elliot. You’ve never been in a position to meet someone who can make the chemicals in your brain go haywire. I won’t bother arguing with you about how much time you’re spending with Damon—or likely will, as he’s healing. I do want you to consider why you’re feeling this way and prepare for when it passes. Because it will. The rush, the butterflies, the sudden urge to share everything with that ‘one special person’... It doesn’t last.”

Elliot huffed out a laugh and folded his arms over his chest. “I’m not a teenager with their first crush, Gerard. I also won’t fall in love with someone because he makes my dick hard. Do I like him? Yes. But you trust me because I’ve earned it. Because I don’t make rash decisions.”

“Oh? You don’t do you?” Gerard’s eyes narrowed. “Because what I heard in there was you telling a stranger details about your life he has no business knowing. I’d say the fact that you care how he feels about any of it is worse, but I’m hoping that will pass as well. What he now knows means I may have to make certain decisions regarding his future. And I’m questioning whether or not you’ll behave reasonably when the time comes.”

Gritting his teeth and digging his blunt nails into the raw spots on his arms, Elliot held the gaze of the closest thing he had to a father—a man who’d never been the least bit paternal toward him, but he’d always looked up to.

Which hadn’t changed.

Still, his lack of faith…really hurt.

“If any ‘decision’ needs to be made regarding Damon, I’ll handle it myself, regardless of how I feel.” Elliot ignored the clear skepticism in Gerard’s eyes. “It’s too soon to tell if he’ll be an asset or—”

“An ‘asset’?” Gerard let out a sharp laugh. “I see. So this is a recruitment effort, is it? You believe your lover is up to our standards?”

“For fuck’s sakes, he’s not my lover.” Elliot hated the way his face heated, at the exact wrong time, probably making his cheeks red. “And I don’t understand why me being attracted to someone is suddenly an issue. Would you rather kill him than find out if he wants to train? To help us?”

“Yes.” Gerard arched a brow when Elliot glared at him. “I don’t think he’s worth the trouble we’ve already gone to, never mind all that he’ll cause as you get closer to him. But Virgil disagrees and having you available for more jobs means Nexus can cover our latest loss. Archie is dead.”

The abrupt way Gerard revealed the loss of one of Eros’ Eight didn’t surprise Elliot, he liked to—as he put it—rip off the bandaid. He’d been just as direct when the cat that’d grown up in the dorms died of old age, but back then, he’d given all the boys a day to mourn.

Elliot hadn’t needed it then and he didn’t need it now.

But burying the gut punch of grief to impress his handler was a lot more challenging than it’d been back then. Maybe Gerard was right to challenge him about his growing attachment to Damon…which meant Lux had been right, too.

Opening himself up to feeling anything made it hard not to feel everything .

And if he didn’t get a handle on that quick, he’d be useless on missions.

Inhaling past the tightness in his throat, he turned his gaze to the window. Archie had been a damn skilled member of their crew, the oldest of Eros’ Eight at thirty-two, his door always open if one of the guys needed to talk. The only time Elliot accepted the unspoken invite was when Lux was really struggling with nightmares and the therapists proved useless.

After a few bottles of beer—Elliot’s rare drink outside of work or training—Archie suggested having Lux hang out with him for a bit. This was before Elliot let his little brother spend much time with any of the guys, but he didn’t know what else to do. So he agreed.

That was the start to Lux talking again, if only a little, and wanting to join Eros’ Eight. But Elliot never blamed Archie for that. The man had helped Lux when he couldn’t and he’d always be grateful.

Lux is gonna be crushed.

“Will the crew get details…?” Elliot bit the inside of his cheek when Gerard shook his head. Not knowing would only make things harder, but this wasn’t the first time they’d lost a man and weren’t told how it happened.

Anything that might be a distraction was to be avoided. Or eliminated.

Elliot had to make sure Gerard believed him when he said Damon wouldn’t be an issue. “I don’t need more training, and if you need me to cut back on the usual two months between missions, I’m fine with that. This mission wasn’t completed. Saint Claude is still alive.”

“And we haven’t been able to trace him. You are aware your friend calling in his Fed buddies is to blame, yes?” Gerard sighed, turning and starting toward the door without waiting for an answer. “If you’re cleared in a month, I’ll have something else for you. It will give me time to figure out what to do with Damon. If he can be an asset, but he’s too distracting, I can always have him drive Gael around. Kill two birds with one slutty stone.”

That almost made Elliot laugh. “Are you trying to get rid of Gael?”

“No, but I can’t keep sparing experienced drivers for his shopping addiction. And if he steals Damon, you’ll move on.” Gerard chuckled at Elliot’s dry look. “Virgil didn’t think that would work either, but it was worth a try. And in case you’re wondering? No, you do not have permission to kill Gael if he flirts with your man.”

“That’s fine.” Elliot smirked. “He has ten fingers.”

“He can’t jerk off horny politicians with his fingers broken.” Gerard’s amusement lightened his tone, letting Elliot know he wasn’t angry anymore. “If there’s no drama and Damon proves himself, I won’t stop you from pursuing…whatever this is. If it’s even anything. But you’ve never even dated, mot?nel. I need you to be aware of how fast and hard you can fall in a situation like this. And how much damage it can do if it ends badly.”

Elliot inclined his head. “I understand, but… Are you speaking from experience? Did you ever fall for someone fast enough for it to be a problem?”

“Yes.”

“And…?”

Gerard gave him a long look. “What I found was extremely rare. Don’t expect to have the same results.”

“It was Virgil, wasn’t it?” Elliot smirked when his handler grunted his response, already halfway out the door. “Won’t you be celebrating your thirtieth anniversary this year?”

Snorting, Gerard glanced back at him over his shoulder. “Save the mouthiness for your new boyfriend, mot?nel. I’m not a fan.”

“He’s not my—” Elliot sighed when the door shut, cutting him off mid-protest. He wasn’t even sure why it mattered what people assumed about his and Damon’s non-relationship, except…getting the chance to figure it out for himself first would’ve been nice.

Unfortunately, being part of Eros’ Eight and living at The Inn meant constantly having someone’s nose in his business.

But while Lux was off with one of his trainers and Gerard was back, handing out assignments, the rest of the afternoon should be somewhat peaceful. Which left Elliot to figure out what to do with the small bit of time he’d be alone with Damon.

Returning to the game room, the decision almost seemed to be out of his hands from how still Damon lay on the bed. This was good, though. The man needed his rest and Elliot could start rebuilding the walls in his mind, strong enough so Gerard and the others wouldn’t doubt they were still there.

But when Damon glanced over and held out his hand?

All Elliot’s efforts crashed to the ground.

“Let me guess. Your boss doesn’t like me.” The second Damon got a grip on Elliot’s hand, he tugged him onto the bed, teeth audibly clenching as he spoke through them, tone tight with pain. “And you’re overthinking things. You’re gonna end up with permanent lines right here…” He stroked a finger between Elliot’s brows. “If you don’t stop doing that.”

Knees on either side of Damon’s hips, Elliot braced himself up on his hand to keep his weight off the other man’s body. “Overthinking has kept me alive.”

“Are you afraid I’ll kill you?”

“In this condition?” Elliot shook his head, then bent down a little more, searching Damon’s eyes. “Actually…not in any condition. Being near you makes me stupid.”

“Yeah, well, same.” Damon cupped his cheek. “Are you afraid you’ll have to kill me?”

Elliot hesitated. Then nodded. “Yes.”

“Has the order been given?”

“No.”

Smiling with a satisfied mix of pleasure, and—because he was a little stupid and crazy—pain, Damon leaned up to brush their lips together in a soft, barely there kiss. “Then it’s a problem for tomorrow you. Or next week you. Or never you. Let them worry about it. Today you is going to have a bit of fun with living, breathing, today me.”

“I don’t have fun watching you suffer.” Elliot lifted himself off the other man to stretch out on the bed beside him. “So I hope your idea of fun is tame. And involves Jell-o.”

The edge of Damon’s lips quirked. “Well, it does now. Jell-o in an oversized tub—”

“Eww. That sounds messy. No thank you.”

“Noted.” And Damon really sounded like he was taking a mental note of the things Elliot didn’t like. Resting his head on the pillow, he seemed to consider their options. “How about this? You pick a movie, I pick a movie, and we watch both. While eating Jell-o.”

Elliot’s brow furrowed and Damon’s finger immediately brushed over it, making him laugh. “What kind of movie?”

“Your very favorite.”

Not being a huge fan of movies or TV in general—his spare time usually went to finding things Lux might like, to ease him out of his shell—Elliot couldn’t say what his favorite was. Since Damon didn’t want him overthinking, he went with the first one he didn’t hate.

“ Hidalgo .” Elliot tensed, not even sure why, except he really didn’t want Damon to find him strange for his choice. Or…well, any stranger than he already did, considering how they’d met and everything that’d happened since. “I found a copy on VHS when I was a kid and played it until it broke. Some of the guys here didn’t even know what a VHS was, but…the orphanage didn’t exactly have the latest tech.”

Damon nodded with understanding. “Some of the guys I met in prison? They were in group homes like that with older caretakers. So this orphanage was in…Russia?”

“No, Romania.”

“Ah, okay, I suck at identifying accents. My dad had a Russian vocal coach once for a movie…” Damon’s throat worked and he quickly shook his head. “Moving on. Coming to the states must’ve been a huge culture shock?”

Digging deeper into Damon’s past instead of his own was tempting, but the traumatic way the man lost his parents probably made talking about them hard.

Taking Damon’s cue, Elliot returned to the original topic. “It really was. I thought America was like in the old movies, except maybe Hollywood. My only excuse is that I was only six and it made perfect sense that LA would be like OZ and the rest like Kansas.”

“Black and white and all?”

“No, not black and white, asshole.” Elliot playfully smacked Damon’s shoulder—thankfully the one part of him not injured, because he’d forgotten all about the bullet wounds. Still, he rubbed it better, just in case. “Don’t mention that movie in front of Lux, though. He’s been wanting a dog, and Gerard will have me reassessed if I let him get a Toto.”

“Not a problem. That kid needs a dog big enough to cuddle with.”

Fuck, if Damon hadn’t already started working his way into Elliot’s heart, his concern and consideration for Lux would’ve done it.

He gave Damon a knowing look. “After all that, you’re picking The Wizard of Oz for your movie, aren’t you?”

“Mhm. That or Eurotrip .”

“I haven’t seen it.”

Damon started sitting up, grunting when Elliot pinned him back down. “Okay, okay, but if we’re staying in here, get a smart TV set up. I don’t think two movies will be enough. You’ve been missing out on a lot.”

No truer words had ever been spoken, but for the first time, Elliot didn’t feel the need to bury any resentment or regret about the life he could’ve had. He didn’t tell himself how weak or pathetic he was for wanting more.

Because those thoughts barely surfaced. He was too busy living in the moment, with Damon.

Stupid and crazy and…excited.

For whatever came next.