Written in the Scars (The Damaged Souls #1)

Reagan

My alarm fills the room as “Oh! You pretty things”

bounces off the walls; I tug my duvet above my head to hide just a little longer from the low sun beaming through the gap in my curtains.

Jumping straight back out, BANG BANG “WILL YOU SHUT THAT FUCKING SONG OFF?!”, Selene screams through the paper-thin walls.

She is not a morning person, it’s rare we cross paths in the morning.

I am usually out the door before 8:30 am with great ease, surprisingly.

Opting for a casual look today, with no meetings, there is no need for me to make too much of an effort.

Throwing on my work appropriate skinny jeans, white tank and my oversized black knitted jumper, finishing touch a pair of black docs, and chucking my hair into a messy bun, I'm done.

It's 8:24 am when I leave and head straight for Ben’s.

The obnoxious bell fills the café with the high-pitched ring, announcing to everyone inside that another person has entered, people turning to see if it is their appointment arriving or just being plain nosey.

Heading straight to the bar, I am welcomed with the usual trying too hard smile from Trent.

My usual barista, a good-looking guy, but still living in the frat house.

Before I can even place my order, he is pressing buttons on the register and handing me my usual flat white, to take away.

“Good morning, Reggie”, the nickname the staff here gave me after countless times of me having to tell them how my name was spelt.

If it wasn’t for the amazing dark roast and convenience of Ben’s being so close to the office, I would have found elsewhere to get my morning coffee.

I’m more of a grab and go then stay, chat and flirt. I want my caffeine easy and uncomplicated.

“Good morning, Trent.

Thank you for the quick service today”, I say, pulling out my card to speed the transaction and conversation up.

He leans over and hands me a paper bag: “A blueberry muffin for a quick breakfast, you seem to be in a rush.

This ones on the house”, he insists, giving me a wink and turning away.

Quickly blurting out a thank you, I place a cash amount by the register and leave.

I cannot accept his gifts, which will only lead him on.

It's only a few minutes’ walk to the office from here so I slow my pace and enjoy the hustle and bustle of the morning work rush.

I used to hate the stampede, but now I enjoy watching them as they check their emails and make appointments through the devices in their ears.

It helps me appreciate the freedom of my own work life.

Bringing the coffee lid to my lips, I notice Trent wrote his number on it, again.

That split second distraction had sent my coffee cup flying above my head and my ass hitting the pavement with an almighty smack.

It was like everything went into slow motion, as I watched the dark hot liquid swirl around the air above me.

Trying to shuffle out of its aim, while also avoiding the stomping of various leather shoes, I reach out for my laptop bag.

I attempt to get up off the ground as a hand appears in front of me, and suddenly it's just me and that hand.

Covered in black ink, forming the shape of a snake’s head, its mouth open and tongue licking at the gorgeously tanned skin, its body disappears up the tailored black sleek jacket sleeve.

My eyes are slowing following the seam of the jacket stretched around thick arms and across the tight ridged hill of his shoulder to the sharp pointed collar, and there it is, creeping just above the edge of the crisp white shirt.

The tail end of the snake I had already met, or maybe it’s another snake's tail, my imagination starts picturing many black inked snakes covering the arm below.

But if that was not enough, my eyes continue travelling up to find this strong jaw dusted with a short dark stubble, giving his cheek bones even more definition.

Butterflies take over my entire body as I lock onto a pair of big beautiful brown eyes, small slithers of amber and gold marbled in the deep brown halos of his pupil.

The tiger’s eye gemstone must have been designed based on this man’s eyes.

Suddenly, I am snapped back to the fact I am still on my ass surrounded by the rush of feet.

“Damn it, are you ok?”, the mysterious man asks, his voice deep and gravely, like that old guy from Roadhouse.

Oh crap, what’s his name? Never mind.

Anyway, this guy sounds annoyed.

I reach for his hand accepting his help.

He knocked me down, why is he annoyed?

“Thank you, but watch where you’re going in the future!”

I wipe my hands down my jeans and turn to storm off, when his strong grip wraps round my arm, as he stops me in my tracks again.

Looking down at his hand, I can see the snake wrapped around my delicate wrist.

“Hey, Ace, you didn’t answer my question!”

he's pulling me out from the crowd of people, his gemstone eyes tracing down my body, checking for any visible harm.

“I’m fine, however the lack of caffeine in my system is now becoming an issue, I must get to work.”

I am blunt and starting to get a little pissed off.

Turning on my heel, I manage to walk to work without another interruption, leaving him frozen.

“Sam Elliot!”

Luckily, I am in the office kitchen alone or that may have been awkward.

I knew it would come to me, eventually.

I just need coffee, doing a little happy dance as I take a sip of the steaming black fragrant liquid and making my way to the office, hopefully avoiding the sight of Nathan.

Orion

“Excuse me, Sir.

Are you ready to order?”, the barista is breaking my concentration.

Quickly placing and paying for my order, I go back to my phone, flicking through the attendees of recent meetings.

That god damn woman, I can’t place her and why is it she’s gone and hit a nerve? If she would’ve paid more attention to where she was going instead of staring at the phone number on her cup, then I wouldn’t bloody be here.

Taking my order, I head straight for the door and take the right.

The streets are quieter now so I've less chance of anyone else getting in my way.

It's just my luck when I am stopped in my tracks, her face staring and smiling at me from the concrete.

Her ID must have fallen out of her bag when she fell on her ass.

I wonder if she’s bruised, a faint bluish mark forming against her pale peach skin tone would look delicious.

No, Orion!, I think to myself, a crease forming between my eyebrows, as I try to get the image out of my head.

Picking up the cold plastic, I take the napkin from the cup holder and wipe away the footprints from her face.

, meaning regal or royal.

I cannot help but stare into those enticing green eyes, as I make my way up to the sixth floor, blending in with the groups of businessmen as best I can.

The elevator doors slide open, and I am met with the scent of printed paper and stale coffee, people charging around with files and electronic devices.

I can’t imagine working somewhere so loud and busy.

Who can concentrate in a place like this? I stride towards the front desk, shoulders up, head held high.

The receptionist has frozen, mouth open, as she ogles me not being the slightest bit discrete.

“Good morning, I am looking for .

Can you please point me in the right direction?”

My tone is stern and professional.

After a few blinks and a swipe of her tongue across her lower lip, I let out a sigh of impatience.

“Of course, sorry.

Her office is down the corridor, last door on the left.”

Her voice is squeaky and rushed, but that could be the normal tone for someone answering a phone all day or the nervousness of someone imagining themselves on their knees for me.

I turn to make my way down the hall as the receptionist calls behind me “Who should I tell her to expect?”.

Ignoring the woman who sounds like a dog’s chew toy, I am already standing outside ’s office door.

Haunt, Senior Journalist.

Written in black lettering across the glass pain.

I stand for a few moments watching as she sits at her desk, unknowing of my presence.

She looks stunning, at this moment she looks like royalty, a queen.

My queen.

Nope, scratch that thought, we are not doing this, this is not why I am here. Return the card and leave, Orion.

Who am I kidding? If that is all it was, I could have left the card at the front desk, but no, here I am, staring, no, admiring!

I tap twice on the glass pain, causing her to drop the pen she was so elegantly chewing on, tasteful.

Her bright green eyes freeze on mine, as she bites at her plump bottom lip.

I reach for the door handle and remove the barrier of glass between us.

The room is filled with the smell of black coffee and sandalwood.

She is still frozen in place, watching me intently as I take a seat at the chair opposite her and place the ID card on her desk, slowly sliding it towards her.

She’s still not spoken a word to the stalking stranger who knocked her on her ass not an hour ago. “You dropped this during our little incident earlier, and this”, I place one of the two coffees on the table by her book-related mug. What on earth is a book boyfriend? However, the coffee inside looks like it has gone cold at this point. I will have to stop and get Chuck another coffee on my way to him. Who am I kidding, I am not making that meeting now.

Her gaze shifts from mine to the coffee and back again, then finally her lips move.

“Thank you, you could have left it at the front desk.”

She is blunt, her voice has a natural seductive tone to it.

I wonder what she would sound like as I bite that bottom lip for her, the thought alone has me adjusting in my seat.

“I thought the receptionist may take claim of your coffee, I wanted to hand it straight to you”, I give her a little smirk, as she reaches for her mug, wincing at the cold coffee hitting her tongue.

Perfect timing, Orion.

“Look, I appreciate you replacing my coffee and returning my ID, not to be rude, but I have a very busy schedule and a meeting in ten minutes to leave for”, she sounds annoyed, again.

I try not to read too much into it, she most likely is busy.

I just can’t bring myself to leave, there’s something intriguing about this woman, which is forming an extremely uncomfortable feeling in my stomach.

“Of course, pardon my interruption, again. Can I…”

the door to her office swings open without any warning, interrupting me.

God damn it.

A tall man, dressed in an all-black 3-piece suit, piercing blue eyes and shaggy blonde hair enters the room.

I get a glance of a tattoo on the back of his neck as he strains himself watching between me and my queen.

No, not my queen. .

flies to her feet in response to this man’s presence.

I wonder who he is to her.

“Good morning, Nathan.

Is everything ok?”

her voice is an octave higher, she's nervous.

“I was about to ask you the same thing, Doll”, his eyes baring down on me.

I stand from the chair, I’m a few inches taller than Nathan, not that I'd cower to him if I wasn’t.

“I didn’t think you had any meetings today”, he’s dropped her in it there.

Oh, Ace, lying to me already! “No, Nathan, this isn’t a meeting.

I’d dropped my ID on my way in, this gent was just returning it for me”, she spits the words out quickly in defense. Watching her glance between Nathan and myself, I keep my eyes on her, a smirk forming on my face.

“Again, I’m sorry to interrupt your busy day”, my tone emphasizing on the word busy, “I will show myself out, See you soon, Ace.”, a smirk crosses my lips.

I walk towards Nathan, him blocking the exit.

He moves just enough for me to slide by, getting so close I can hear the low growl in his chest.

“Thank you again!”

she lets out just before I leave her sight.

I hear the faint mumbles of them speaking, but nothing clear.

Pulling out my phone, I quickly cancel my meeting with Chuck and load up my search engine.

Nathan at Embrace Magazine.

If this guy is anything, it will be here.

Nathan Flint, editor-in-chief of Embrace Magazine, recently gained the position after the resignation of Victoria Vail, eight months ago.

No significant other is mentioned, nor previous career information.

I am not sure if he is anything more to , but the pet name Doll boiled my blood.

That woman is definitely nobody’s DOLL.