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6 The rules

Date = 5 September

Place = San Francisco (Uncle John’s house)

POV - Damion

I glare at the message on her phone. Is this a prank? I dig deep to think of anyone — except me — whose name starts with a D. Fuck. And I’m going away for a few successional races soon, but if she has a stalker I need to do something.

Knock. Knock.

Someone’s at the door. Fuck. I don’t want to get up. Mel is sleeping peacefully on my chest, making the sweetest sexiest little snoring sound. Almost like a tiny kitten.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

The person is getting impatient. Fiddling with the handle. I shift Mel gently to the side so I can get up.

“Mel?” A voice sounds through the door. “Are you in there?” I cringe on my teeth. It’s the bastardly boyfriend. I unlock the door and swing it open.

“What do you want?” I don’t even try to sound halfway friendly. His face contorts. He doesn’t seem to like me very much. Well, the feeling is mutual.

“I’m looking for Mel.” He tries to push past me, but I fill the doorway pretty darn well. He’s no match for me.

“She’s sleeping,” I say calmly. He glares at me with pissed eyes.

“Have you seen Jason and Chloe?”

“They were escorted home.” Thank goodness Jackson threw them both into an Uber and ordered the guards not to let them back in. He should have done the same with this asshole.

“And you’re not welcome here, so just go.” He turns around without a word.

“Good boy,” I taunt. Then he swings around and a fist hits me against my jaw. My head snaps and I have to step back to keep my balance. Motherfucker.

Years of training kick in instinctively, and without even thinking I land one on his ribs. He huffs, wind out. I move through with a solid blow against his eye. He falls to the ground. That was not planned … but it feels so fucking good.

“Now get the fuck out of this house!”

He gets up and glowers at me. I swear he’s killing me in his mind — I can see the crazy in his eyes. Fuck. I really need to get Mel away from him. He’s not good boyfriend material.

“This is not over, biker,” he threatens. I smile cheekily, but I realize he’s going to be trouble.

“She’s mine,” he hisses before he walks away. Yeah, in your dreams buddy. I close the door. I’ll need to stay here and look after this drunken bunch tonight. What if that guy comes back and does something to Mel? A chill runs down my spine.

No fucking way am I leaving her alone in this state.

I check on Logan. He’s passed out in the fetal position in the big empty bath. I put a pillow under his head and cover his nearly naked body with a blanket. He’s fine for now, but he’s going to feel like shit when he wakes up eventually. I’m sure the rest of the brothers are also passed out somewhere … they overdid it just a little. But Axel’s got them covered.

I bend down next to the bed and watch Mel’s sweet face as I sweep her hair back. She looks like a fucking angel when she sleeps and I swear I can stay right here in this moment looking at her forever. The shadows inside me dissipate and there’s no guilt, no pain, no demons … just a warm empty calmness.

Only she has that effect on me. She’s my light.

I breathe in deeply, drinking the essence of her.

She smells like the ocean. A fragrance created in harmony with nature. Radiant, fresh, and subtly capturing the landscape where the sky meets the sea in a warm, oceanic floral bouquet.

Enveloping, serene, and sensual. My dick hardens and I push it down.

Here and now, every reason that previously stopped me from claiming her as my own suddenly seems inconsequential. I take one last whiff, plant a kiss on her forehead, get up, and walk out onto the balcony.

Maybe my feelings are just in my head. Or it could be circumstantial. Or fatalistic … superstitions … or even potentially harmful libidinous urges … who knows?

What I do know is that each time I reach rock bottom, Mel is the only one who can lift me up and out of the hole.

I stare at the almost silent black ocean in the distance. It’s a calm wind-free night.

I could say it started at the haunted house … and it did … but a year before I met Mel.

And there’s a whole preliminary foreword that comes even before that.

Like my wild hyperactive childhood. My urge to do dangerous things. My impulsive recklessness. My inclination to attract disasters. My tendency to get caught in stupid situations. My love for racing. Things that are a part of me. My nature.

Unfortunately, with the thrill, the speed, the risks, and the stupidity also come the demons — accidental or otherwise — little fucking leeches that attach themselves to my soul, living off my guilt, pulling me into the shadows of nightmares. And it’s nearly impossible to pry their little claws away.

PTSD is what the doctors call them. I call them demons.

Just a word, a smell, a sound … any little reminder … can pop one out to haunt me like a fucking banshee on a runaway freight train. It’s not pretty.

That’s how I ended up at the haunted house … hoping to find some clearance … anything to make it stop before I went insane.

And that’s when I found Mel.

Because of her, I tried to find new ways of coping and ended up taking fighting classes. Unlike therapy, it worked, but even though it helped a lot, it could not fully fix the broken boy. The demons stayed … and more joined the train over the years.

I’ll never forget that first day of eighth grade, just as I was at a very low point again, the universe sent me my angel … standing at her school locker this time.

Just seeing her got me out of the hole and back into business. And I knew she was the solution to getting rid of that train track to hell.

At that time, puberty hadn’t kicked in yet, so I was more than satisfied to crush on her from afar. And being Logan’s best friend allowed me to get close to her without suspicion. I fell into a comfortable grove — I figured out that she could lift my mood on bad days by just watching her. Ordinarily, I became rather good at observing her. I learned to read her like a book.

And to keep me on the right path I made up some rules, and now and then I added a new one as needed. Most of them come from the many different martial arts classes I took over the years, the rest I made up along the way.

The rules keep me in control — they give me a sense of security, something I can control in my hectic broken life … a way to keep my hellish friends at ease.

Rule 1: Never ever fall in love with your best friend’s sister — The start and I suppose the reason for my rules. And it might just be the most important one on the list. The one rule I never should break even though it has been broken from the start.

Rule 2: Never lose control — Very important for a guy who lives on the edge like I do — I can’t afford to lose control in any part of my life or I might just fall over that edge. To do so, I use guided imagery, a meditation technique where you visualize positive, peaceful scenarios to promote a calmer state of mind and take charge of it. Or if that doesn’t work, I have my three foolproof ways — take my frustration out on a punching bag (or a fight); have sex; or ride my bike.

Rule 3: Fight to win — Whatever I do, I try my best to win … I fight for that first place … especially in racing. Some call my maneuvers and stunts wild and reckless, but that’s not how I see it — I own that track and don’t go out there to lose.

Rule 4: Show no fear — If you want to have control in your life, you can’t show fear … not in a race, not in a fight, and certainly not in life.

Rule 5: Never start a fight — Count to 10 or take a walk. No matter how mad I get, I’ll never throw the first punch. But after the first punch is served, rule 3 applies.

Rule 6: Fuck and leave — My space is my own, so I never ever bring a girl home. I’ll find a spot to fuck and then immediately after, I’m gone. No hanging around, no sleeping over, no cuddling. It may sound harsh, but I always tell the girl before we start, so it’s her choice. Yes, some complain a bit, but it makes life so much easier — no awkward moments, no facing the girl for breakfast, trying to remember her name.

Rule 7: No condom, no sex — This one is very important to me. Unfortunately, with the money and fame comes the craziness. Women will try anything to hook a guy like me, trying to get themselves pregnant in any manner they can. It’s true. I have personally witnessed girls trying to steal used condoms, or spitting cum from their mouths into a container. So rather safe than sorry — I always use my own condom and discard it safely myself, and I never blow off in someone’s mouth. I’m not planning to be some chic’s baby-daddy anytime soon.

Rule 8: Don’t get caught (with your pants on your knees) — This is a tricky one … the press is everywhere and can’t be avoided. But when I’m going to the boneyard, I take extra precautions not to get caught on camera — I never make out in public places; I always lock the doors; I do a thorough walk-through of the room to check for hidden cameras; and I always trust my gut.

That brings us to the next one —

Rule 9: Trust your gut — If something doesn’t feel right … it usually isn’t.

Rule 10: Exercise and stay healthy — Not only does exercise help to keep me calm, but it also helps me win races, is good for my body, and is something I can control.

As time went by, and my hormones started to kick in, it became more and more difficult to ignore my feelings. And I slipped up.

I dragged Mel with me to the boardwalk. Being with her felt so right, it was just amazing — one of the best times on a very very bad day. She made me feel brave … strong enough to face anything.

However, after I dropped her off, the shadows appeared from their hiding spots. I got scared shitless — frightened of the control she had over me; like a fucking voodoo doll. I realized that if she stuck a needle in the doll’s heart, I’d never recover. And coward what I was, I didn’t want to risk it.

Not to mention that I’ll have to break my rules, the only thing that keeps me in line, the only thing that keeps me from falling down the rabbit hole. They’re my lifeline when she’s not around.

So, I made a dick move, making sure that she saw me kissing some random girl at school the next day. I regained control, but the hurt in her eyes would become another demon in the darkness of my mind. Another guilt-driven burden to place on the ever-growing heap, and I promised myself never to go near her again.

Later I learned that sex — at least for a few moments — was a perfect substitute for Mel in keeping those demons down. It was not perfect, but better than nothing. I started seriously screwing around, partly to rip her from under my skin and partly to try and keep sane. I fucked any willing brunette — never a blonde like her. And never a girl with blue eyes. But for some reason, each girl I slept with only seemed to expand the spell she has over me; to increase my longing for her. It became a vicious cycle.

But I managed to keep my promise and kept my distance until my Sophomore year, 1 March — the worst day in my year. After putting pink roses on the steps of the haunted house, I let my emotions numb my mind, kidnapped Mel from her room, and we slipped into the zoo. I was overwhelmed, distraught, sad, guilt-ridden … not that it’s an excuse … it’s not.

Again, we had the best night ever and this time I was not going to back down … I was going to tell her how I feel.

But when I dropped her off, Jackson saw me. The devil almost killed me, but he also managed to hit some sense into me. I realized Mel is an angel. Innocent. Pure. Special. I could not corrupt her with my darkness. So for a second time, I broke her heart.

I never went near her like that again. I continued my spying from a distance again. I continued to selfishly take from her what I needed without her knowing.

But that’s gonna change. While she was taking her gap year, I started some soul-searching myself.

I realized long ago that getting Melaena Blackburn out of my blood is impossible. Out of my mind. Out of my dreams. And out of my heart. So I made a difficult decision.

First, I stopped fucking around. I hadn’t cum in the near vicinity of a female since the accident. My dick hasn’t seen a mouth or a pussy, only my hand, and I can tell you that getting off while thinking about her is not the way nature intended. It isn’t very good, to tell the truth, and definitely not my first choice … but it is my only alternative right now.

At least my arm muscles are getting a workout.

It’s necessary … there can be no mistakes. Too much is at risk. And I need to plan it right … ‘cause as soon as her brothers find out, they’re going to seriously hurt me for sure. Again I think how that stupid curse is coming back to haunt me. But that was necessary too. I couldn’t let some guy just move in on my property.

Now I have one shot.

And after tonight, seeing her with that fucking asshole, I know I made the right decision. She belongs to me. And fucking me alone. I just need to persuade her … and her blood-crazy family … of that fact.

But convincing the bunch of playboy morons that just happen to be her brothers, that I’m actually sincerely and truly pussy-whipped by their sister, is not going to be an easy task. I know there will be bodily harm, and I’m okay with that. But I’m not okay with losing our brotherly bond.

And without my rules and usual fallbacks, I’m slowly losing control. Fucking voodoo magic. Hell, just thinking about her and here I am, blown into a full-on painful erection while an iron hand is squeezing around my throat.

Something’s got to give.

I take out my phone and dial my father.

“Hey son, where are you?” he asks as soon as he answers.

“I’m looking after Logan and Mel. They had a little too much to drink.”

“Mel?” I can hear the lingering worry in his voice.

“Yeah. Dad, am I doing the right thing?” I can’t believe I’m starting one of those deep emotional discussions … I hate them more than losing a race.

“I think so son,” he says quickly without hesitation. “Are you doubting your feelings?”

“I don’t know what it is about her, she just drives me insane. Always has. But is it real? I don’t want to lose her brothers’ friendship for nothing.”

“Well, only you can answer that. There are always risks … the question you should ask is whether she’s worth those risks. Is having her worth losing Logan?” It’s like Sophie’s Choice. I really really hope I don’t need to choose. I will miss Logan like the shit.

“How did you know with Mom?”

“Between you and me … if she drives you this crazy … it’s a good start.” I smile. “I think I just suddenly realized that other women became rather lucid … they just didn’t compare.” Since I’ve met her no girl could ever compare. I never felt crap for anyone. But my hesitation is not actually about my feelings … it’s about much more.

“Dad, what if she finds out I’m not a good guy, and that she deserves more?” What if she can’t handle my demons?

“I think you’re pretty darn decent. Definitely in the top 5 in my books, just after Batman.” He always knows just what to say, but I’m not sure if I believe him. I’m no saint, that’s for sure. I’m a sinner … you can even say I’m a killer. My past may disgust her. And that I won’t survive.

“Son, I’ve never told you this in the past, but I think you should know. You know I have a history with the Blackburns.”

“Yeah, you were friends with their father.” He told me that once.

“Yeah, I caught each and every one of them at birth … including Mel,” he chuckles.

“But, I was also the one who removed the arrow from Mel’s arm that day.” It was the day I helped them at the haunted house. He never told me that.

“I saw her wearing your team jacket and I knew she was someone special to you. I mean, you wouldn’t give away the most important thing in your life just to anybody. So after I talked to John, I decided to send you to the same school, knowing that you would eventually find Mel there.” I’m stunned by his confession.

“So all this time you are the fucking universe,” I tease.

“Yes, I planned to set you up, but instead you became Logan’s best friend … and yes, that complicates things. But if you truly feel what I believe you feel for Mel, it should not hold you back.” I listen carefully.

“My advice would be to take it slow. And make damn sure what she is to you before you make your move? If you only want a fuck buddy you better walk away now. Mel is not some random floozy you can stick your dick in and Jackson will definitely kill you then.”

“He’s going to kill me either way,” I laugh.

“Nah, if you’re really sincere he’ll just put you in hospital,” he chuckles. “I can fix that. And you will maybe lose Logan for a while, but not forever.”

He ends the conversation, leaving me to think about this alone. The ocean shimmers in the moonlight and you can make out the white foam of the waves.

Is my obsession with Mel just a sexual fantasy that will lose its appeal as soon as I fuck her, or is there something more to this, something deeper?

I don’t know if this is true love because I don’t know what that feels like. What I do know is that I’ve never wanted anything as bad as I want her. And I recon … if I can stay without sex for a good solid 18 months … it must at least be a little fucking real.

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