Chapter 53: Poisonous Tokens 1
Noah’s POV
Should I have just ignored Micah’s begging and killed Damon right then and there?
It would have been so easy. One quick, decisive strike to his throat, or driving my boot down into his chest until his sternum collapsed completely into his lungs. The thought sat heavy and tempting in the back of my brain, pulsing with every beat of my heart.
Micah would do his best to keep his part of the deal. He was terrified of me, terrified of what I might do to him if he broke his word, so he would stay away from Damon out of self-preservation. But Damon fucking Silver? A psycho like him didn’t understand rules, boundaries, or basic fear. There was no way in hell he would ever leave my brother alone.
I stood there in the center of his dark, ridiculous bedroom, my jaw locked so tight my teeth felt like they were going to shatter. My icy gaze trailed slowly down his body—from his messy, damp dark hair, down across his face where blood was still smeared across his chin, and down to his bare chest where a deep, ugly purple bruise was already beginning to form beneath his pale skin from the heavy heel of my boot.
And then my eyes dropped even lower.
To his lap. To the shameless, throbbing dick standing completely erect between his long legs.
Why in the absolute fuck was he still hard?
A wave of pure, toxic disgust rolled through my stomach, instantly followed by a blinding flash of white-hot jealousy that nearly ripped my sanity in two. I shouldn’t have cared about this fool’s dick. I should have treated him like the pathetic insect he was. But the sickening image of what I had seen when I picked that lock kept replaying behind my eyes on a loop.
He had wrapped his filthy, poisonous lips around Micah’s cock.
How fucking dare he? How dare he touch what belonged to me? I hadn’t even taken that from Micah yet. I had spent years keeping my hands clean, keeping my darkest, most corrupt desires locked behind a fortress of ice so I wouldn’t shatter my fragile brother, and this arrogant, rich bastard had just strolled in and taken Micah’s firsts right under my fucking nose.
My hands curled into brutal fists at my sides. I squeezed so violently that my short fingernails dug straight through my skin, biting deep into my palms until I could feel the faint, sharp sting of my own blood welling up in my hands.
I snapped my gaze back up to his face, my eyes narrowing into lethal slits.
Damon let out a low, breathless groan, clutching his bruised chest with one hand as he slowly pushed himself up from the floor. He didn’t look afraid. A faint, bloody smirk flexed across his lips as he stood tall, completely unbothered by his total lack of clothing.
"It’s really nice to see you in my room, Captain," he drawled out smoothly, his voice gravelly as he took a deliberate step toward me.
"Get the fuck away from me before you lose your dick, you fucker," I growled, my voice dropping into a flat, deadly whisper that echoed against the dark floor tiles.
"Ah..." Damon muttered, dropping his hand from his chest and casually looking down at his hard length. His long fingers wrapped lazily around his base, stroking himself once right in front of my eyes. "Can’t blame me, Noah. Your darling Micah left me hard."
Hearing my brother’s name spill out of his mouth in that sickening tone made my blood boil to a dangerous degree.
"Stay the fuck away from my brother," I warned, taking a half-step forward, my shadow completely swallowing his frame. "I won’t give you another warning. Next time, you won’t be walking away from this room."
I shoved past him, turning my back to head straight for the open connecting door. I needed to get out of this dark house before I completely lost control and painted his black walls with his blood. But before I could take two steps, Damon moved with speed, stepping right into my path to block the doorway.
He thrust his right hand out toward my chest.
"Help me give this back to Micah," Damon said, his dark eyes sparkling with a twisted, mocking light.
I stopped dead in my tracks, my eyebrows pulling together into a deep, furious frown. I looked down at his outstretched hand. Clutched in his long fingers was a small piece of dark fabric... a pair of simple black boxers.
My frown deepened as recognition hit me. There was no way something that small and narrow could ever fit Damon’s broad frame. It was obvious who they belonged to. They were Micah’s.
"Tell him I used it well," Damon purred, his smile widening into something genuinely demonic.
A sharp spike of disgust shot through my chest. I reached out and violently snatched the fabric right out of his grip, ready to tear it to shreds in front of his stupid face. But the second my bare fingers wrapped around the soft cotton, my entire body froze completely solid.
The fabric was damp. It was coated in a thick, sticky, gooey residue that clung to my palm.
My mind instantly put the pieces together, and the realization hit me like a physical blow to the head. This degenerate had taken my brother’s clothes and used them to satisfy himself while thinking about Micah.
A sickening wave of nausea hit the back of my throat. I looked up at Damon, my eyes burning with a murderous fury so intense it made my vision blur around the edges. Damon merely chuckled, stepping back toward his king-sized bed and lazily grabbing a plush black silk robe from the mattress, slipping his arms through the sleeves and tying the sash casually around his waist.
As the silk pulled tight, the dark purple bruise on his chest stood out vividly against his pale skin. Seeing the physical evidence of my boot mark on his sternum sent a strange, conflicting pang through my chest. For a split second, a tiny flicker of guilt touched my mind for having stepped on him so ruthlessly—not because I cared about his pain, but because my violence was getting harder and harder to control.
Without saying another word, I opened my hand and tossed the soiled, sticky boxers directly onto the floor between us. I turned on my heel and burst out of his bedroom, striding down the hallway as fast as my legs could carry me.
"Goodbye, Captain! See you at morning training!" Damon’s loud, echoing taunt carried down the long corridor behind me.
I ignored his yelling, barging straight through the heavy front doors of the Silver estate and down the grand stone steps into the cool night air. The icy breeze hit my burning face, but it did nothing to quench the fire raging in my gut. I practically sprinted toward my car parked in the driveway, yanking the driver’s side door open and sliding behind the wheel.