Friends with the King of the Underworld | Book 1

Chapter Eighteen

I didn't realize how much of a mess I was until I came face to face with a full-sized mirror in the bathroom.

The curls that Leah had so gently placed in my hair were gone. They were knotted, tangled mess that cascaded down my back. The make up which she applied so delicately - the cat eyes, the rosy cheeks, red lips - was all a black and pink streaky mess down my face.

And the blood... How had I not noticed it before?

Dried, dark blood covered and caked my legs, skirt and shirt. Dried mud and dirt trailed up my bare legs and streaked my cheeks. Why did Damien let me sleep on his bed?

A small pink duffel bag was tucked in corner of the bathroom. I rummaged through it and found a change of clothes as well as shampoo, conditioner and soap. I silently thanked whoever it was that put it all together.

My deep sigh echoed in the large marble bathroom around me. The bathroom was too grandiose, too big to be comfortable.

I felt so small.

I peeled my clothes off and took a shower despite how my body craved a hot bath. I thoroughly washed my hair then the rest of my body, making sure to leave nothing without a good scrub.

I felt like a new person when I emerged. The change of clothes provided was a pair of flats, jeans and a comfortable T-shirt.

When I left the bathroom, I found Damien was still on the couch reading the same book in his hand.

He looked up as soon as I entered the room. He set his book down on the tablet next to him without looking at it. "How are you feeling?"

I shrugged. I couldn't do much else, I couldn't trust my voice.

After a moment, I could speak again though barely above a whisper. "I'm all right, I guess."

I looked up at him and found his concerned mauve eyes watching me. Somehow, he was impeccably dressed, impeccably perfect.

The intensity of his concerning gaze made me look away. He wouldn't push me to speak but I knew I had to.

I looked at my hands instead and swallowed. The memories of the night before came flooding back. It was as if my mind had pushed it away until I finally felt myself relax.

"Damien," my voice was soft. "What happened? I mean, we were in a club in the middle of the city and this guy just-" I stopped, noticing how my voice was beginning to shake. My words came out as a whisper. "He appeared out of nowhere."

"We're still trying to figure it all out," he sighed.

When I looked up at him, I found him shaking his head.

"Whoever he was, he knew the Royal Guard was there. There were a lot of them." He ran a nervous hand through his perfect jet black hair. "After I left you here, I went back. We were able to track most of them down but they was enough to overwhelm your bodyguard and mine."

I frowned - a habit I was doing more and more of, I realized. "I have a bodyguard?"

He nodded. "You've had one for months - it's Oren, the cat."

I moved towards where he sat. "The cat?"

"Well, Oren is his title, at least. His name is really Oberyn, he's the head of the guard. A shapeshifter. He volunteered to guard you when we were starting to suspect an uprising after my father's death. I thought it was overkill at the time." He sighed, shifting back in his seat. "I guess I wasn't being as careful as I thought."

I sat down heavily on the couch across from him, watching as he placed his closed fist on his cheek.

"An uprising," I almost breathed. The word was so foreign to me.