Hi, It’s Me, Your Daughter

Savannah

~So, what the hell am I doing?~

~What do I say? How do I do this?~

“Shortcake, you have to knock on the door for him to know you’re here.”

I flip Damon off and think of a few things I could do to him.

“Any day now, Van.” He sighs at the end.

“Would you shut up? I’m doing it.”

Damon’s cocky smirk irks me to no end. Staring into his eyes, I make a hard three knocks when we both hear someone move around on the other side of his apartment.

“Run!” I panic, taking Damon’s hand and pulling him with me as we race away in a last-ditch effort that effectively is a poorly executed ding-dong ditch.

We are not quiet with our panic running down the back stairs and out into traffic.

Damon doesn’t say anything, going along with me even when I lead us into the gym and slip through the backroom and lock the door.

My heart is in my ass and I can somehow hear it in my ears.

“What the fuck was that, Vannah?”

He half laughs, looking at me in amusement.

“I panicked, okay?” I roll my eyes and fold my arms at my chest. My hip cocked out, I refuse to look at his douchebag face.

“Yeah, I can tell. Thought that’s what you wanted. I’ve never known you to chicken out. Maybe your old age is turning you into a chicken shit,” he sneers, his full lips lifted back to show his perfectly white teeth, and gives me a flashback to the douchecanoe he has always been.

“Hey, go fuck yourself. You’re older than me, bitch, and I got your chicken shit right here.”

I grope myself and do an air jerk-off at him. His face has turned a tiny bit red at our fiery back and forth.

“What’s it like to be afraid of a conversation, Van?”

~Oh, this asshole is fixing to get it.~

Damon mimics me, his arms at his chest, his head cocked to the side, he takes some of the space between us away and comes closer.

“I’m not afraid of a conversation, fuck you!”

I poke his chest, feeling my blood turning hot.

~How dare he start in with me.~

“Really? Looks to me like you are. Just like when you would run away from me. I scared you because I was someone you wanted. Same same, but different.”

He waves a hand in front of my face. When his nimble fingers swipe my lips, I bite him.

My teeth sink in and scrape the skin when he pulls away with a huff.

My smile curls to my ear and I love seeing him get even more pissed. The red color now clings to his whole face just like the track lines of my teeth imprints.

“I’m not scared of Grave, I wasn’t scared of you either, you baby-back bitch. I was trying to protect my family, Mr. The Devil’s My Father and Hates Madis Blood.”

I make my voice drop into a deeper tone to make fun of Damon and piss him off a little more.

This is nice, we haven’t done this in a while.

“Right, sure, I believe you of course.”

His hand to his chest, his fake overly drawn out sincerity sets a fire in my ass and makes me want to fight him.

“I know what I would say to him, douchecanoe!” I yell. My finger in Damon’s face, I stand on my toes to be just as much in his business as he is in mine.

His eyes widen slightly, his onyx pupils dilated to take over the midnight blue of his dark eyes.

His full lips act like the first stage of antagonizing me, his smirk on the front row of this back and forth we have started between the two of us.

“Do tell,” he snips.

What a jackass.

Scoffing at his presence—he thinks I’m lying!

“I would say I don’t know what the hell he wants and what I could give. I would say how he will never replace my dad, Jeremiah, and if he ever tries to go sideways on the Madis family name I will rock his shit.

“I would say I don’t give a forgotten fuck if he doesn’t like that I will never call him dad, or choose his side in this love-child he-said, she-said bullshit we have found each other in.

“That my Uncle Jonah will be treated with respect and be at anything family related and if he wants to be a part of it then he better get on board. And do it fast.

“That I am not taking his last name, whatever it is. I’m a Madis. A loud and proud one that will never deny it.

“That, that I don’t know if he would have been a good dad to me if he had the chance but I don’t want him to just step into a role he thinks he should. My dad died. I will not replace him.

“I don’t care my mom broke his heart and no, I don’t want to hear about it. I would say…he doesn’t get to take credit for how I turned out because he didn’t raise me.

“I…I would tell him that I’m not comfortable thinking of him as my dad, that I feel fucking guilty for even knowing this and not being able to talk to my family about what I should do.

“That…that I’m all types of broken and twisted. And pieced back together, but I’m not finished so I’m going to have problems that he may not like to be at the receiving end of, so he better get ready and prepared if he wants to be on the Savannah team.

“I would tell him…we could try and be friends for now. That…that’s all I’m offering right now and he can take it or leave, and no I’m not sorry for busting his head open when I found out he was Huns.”

Damon’s face softened, his eyes going from hard pieces of coal to the liquid night sky I love so much. His emotionless mask falls off and I see him again. My Angel.

Not the brainless soldier his dad raised him to be. One that I hate dealing with.

“That’s my girl.” He smiles, eating away at the anger I had just been consumed with.

“I’ll take it.” The sound of Grave’s voice is gruff and grinding like he hasn’t spoken to anyone in a while and he has to build up.

I twist around. My back to Damon’s chest, I look at the next step in my blood lineage.

His forehead has a red line coming down to his cheek that splits his jaw. Black stitching wraps the gash like some creepy crawly bug.

“Did I do that?” I ask, showing the shock in my voice. I know I hit him, but I didn’t mean to almost kill him.

Grave grunts with a turn of his heavy frown at his chapped lips.

“No, you didn’t. You knocked my ass out, but not this.”

I feel instantly relieved. I know I’m capable of a good fight, but to see this, I don’t feel like he deserved that.

The facial tissue around the cut is red and puffed up. I know how bad it must hurt to touch and how it will itch.

Clearing his voice with a closed fist in front of his mouth, he looks nervous. His other hand closing and opening again and again.

“I would like to be friends. With you. Savannah Madis.”

My heart sling shots from my ass to form a lump in my throat and stop me from breathing for a few seconds.

“Cool. Great. So you did hear all that.”

I look up to see Damon looking pleased with himself. What a jackass.

“Umm…friends. Right. How…how about before I go out for Percy’s birthday, I have some club stuff to do and you could, I don’t know, help me reach the taller shelves or…or not, whatever is good for you.”

Grave looks thrilled, his eyes show it.

They’re more brown than what I have, and glisten with pleased emotions, and I can’t deny that I’m glad he thinks it’s a good deal.

“Done, see you in the morning, girly.” He turns and walks away, leaving the room behind with the shut of the door.

Turning right around to Damon, I shove him back, catching him off guard with him falling into the chair.

He huffs at the air getting knocked out of him.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you? Planning all that out? Getting me sidetracked by pissing me off and baiting me to say all that so he could hear it. So smart, the third prince is.”

Damon has the audacity to laugh and clap at me for figuring it out.

“What can I say, Shortcake? Am I an evil genius or what?”

I’m going to have to knock him down a few notches. Great.

“I would say not. Shrimp dick.”

And with that, I take my leave.

I can already hear him on the way to tan my backside.

~God, I love foreplay.~