Chapter 10
Killian
I wake with a hangover that isn’t as bad as the one I usually nurse after cheap booze, but I still don’t feel like sunshine and rainbows.
Damen’s nowhere to be seen, which causes my chest to constrict with anxiety, but then I find a lovely note explaining that he’ll be back after dealing with some important business.
He even calls me sweetheart in it, like I hadn’t cause a massive clusterfuck last night.
The short letter also explains a doctor would tend to my needs if I called the number mentioned at the bottom.
It seems like overkill at first (also, what family holiday has an on-call doctor?), because last night was far from the first booze-fest in my life.
But when a shower and ample water fails to make me feel better, I cave and decide to make use of any luxuries provided.
Because, why not? I deserve a little pampering if I’m to be Damen’s trophy husband.
A cheerful young woman appears at my door within five minutes, and while I have misgivings about letting her hook me up to an IV drip, in the end I decide to go with it and spend the next two hours receiving a revitalizing massage, eating rice porridge with cucumbers over my eyes, and listening to soothing music.
Is this what the rich and powerful do whenever they overindulge? I would become a part of this family just for that, because by the time I’m left on my own, I’m feeling better than on my average non-hungover mornings. Problem is, I don’t really know what to do with the energy buzzing inside me.
Were I back home, there would be people to meet, a cat to play with, hobbies to do, but without Damen to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do, I don’t feel comfortable enough to leave the room. Which, by the way, is like something straight out of a European palace.
Gold leaf shines on some of the reliefs decorating the walls and ceiling, and the bed is so tall there are little steps provided on one side.
It’s both ridiculous and charming. The wall across from me is covered by three massive paintings that must have tickled Damen’s imagination when he was growing up, because the panels depict naked men locked in battle.
Some do wear helmets, or pieces of fabric that do nothing in terms of covering the important bits, but whether the title of the triptych is Trojan War, Argonautica, or refers to some other mythological conflict, the theme is only an excuse to show hot guys being grabby with each other.
The rest of the room is bigger than my apartment.
It’s no less impressive than the bed I’m sitting on.
All our luggage and pretty bags filled with our purchases appeared in the morning as if brought by Santa himself.
A lush Turkish rug covers most of the floor, and I feel like a princess taken away to a castle when I look out at the grounds through one of the tall windows.
A winter wonderland extends farther than the horizon, but the grounds closest to the mansion are the most magical, with a giant Christmas tree and a vast maze farther away.
The hedges making up the maze are covered with snow in a way that makes me think of Narnia.
I half expect a lion to peek out from the forest.
When I spot a helicopter approaching the house, I wonder if it’s Damen’s sister and her side of the family joining us for the rest of the holiday season.
As far as I know, his uncle's wife and his cousins will be arriving as well. Maybe I’ll get to present myself to them in a more dignified fashion than last night’s appearance.
I hope the doc isn’t a gossip, because she did get a glimpse of the bruises on my spanked ass.
I’m by the French door opening into a snow-dappled balcony when a decisive hand knocks on the door. When the doctor visited me, I ended up stripped and covered by a sheet, so now I dash for the bed to cover myself before I mumble a way too quiet, “Come in!”
I don’t get enough time to consider whether inviting someone in without knowing who it is might be a mistake, because Damen steps inside, putting an end to my worries.
He looks like a million dollars in a cashmere sweater with a discreet dark green Christmas tree at the front, and I find myself staring at him, unable to utter a word.
“Doctor Cho let me know you’re feeling much better,” he says, locking the door with a twist of the key.
The gesture should frighten me, but it only gets me excited.
I vaguely remember that we cuddled last night, and I did wake up naked, but I want to see all of him sober.
I want every detail in the cool glow of morning light reflecting off the snow outside.
I pull the sheet around me. It’s not like me to feel shy.
Especially not around a man who fucked me with a dildo in the backroom of a boutique, but here I am, intimidated by his beauty.
If he told me that he really is a prince, I’d believe him, because he carries himself with the aura of someone who owns everything in this room. Including me.
“Hi. Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t wake up when you did.”
He waves it off. “Nonsense, I don’t expect you to wake up at ungodly hours just because my father likes dealing with important business before the sun comes up. I’m happy you got to rest after last night,” he adds and cups my face, pressing our lips together.
What does he mean? I have vague flashes of him removing my clothes and leaning over me, but if we did have sex, I’ve no memory of it. The thought of that happening makes me queasy, even though thanks to the rice porridge my stomach couldn’t be more settled.
Still, I lean into the kiss because yes, he is that handsome.
Damen smells fresh, of cedarwood, grapefruit, and an earthy undertone that reminds me of gunpowder.
Something about that scent pulls me in. I’ve never been with a man like him.
Not just because he’s so rich I can’t comprehend it, but also because he’s so clean-cut, confident, clear about his intentions and wants.
No games, unless he’s playing 4D chess with me as his king and I remain unaware of it.
But if I’m a chess piece, at least I’m not the opponent.
“Are you saying that as your husband I get to be lazy?” I tease with my lips only half an inch away from his, even though I have to stand on my toes. Another turn on. I love that he’s so much taller than me.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, baby. I rather enjoyed seeing you in that big bed, spread out like the tastiest meal I could have,” he teases, flicking his finger against my chin.
“Did you… have me as a nighttime treat?” I ask, watching his face carefully. I’m anxious about the answer I might get, but I need to know who I’m dealing with. I’m running at the red flags because they look like Christmas gift ribbons, but I’m trying my best, okay?
Damen cocks his head. “If we did, then it was only in your sex dreams, baby. I don’t fuck people who can’t speak without slurring.”
My chest tightens when he leans closer, looming over me like a giant capable of swallowing me whole. And yet I’m still here, melting into his arms.
“I want you to remember every single time,” Damen whispers, his voice pouring over me like liquid honey until I feel too weak to think. “On that note, you seem quite awake now,” he points out with a gentle tug on the sheet covering me up to the neck.
I'm about ready to spread my legs, because that's so hot. Even the memory of him snapping Happy's head somehow morphs into a vision of Damen as my white knight, swooping in when no one else would save me. Of course I want his dick in me.
I swallow and let go of the fabric. Damen lets it fall to the floor, and I’m naked as the day I was born, dressed only in ink and piercings.
He saw all of me last night, but it still feels like the first time with the bright light flooding the room.
Maybe it’s the sheer size of the space that makes me feel so small.
Not that I’m particularly small where it counts!
“That’s what I want too,” I whisper and kiss him again. I shouldn’t feel so giddy about the bare minimum a guy should do, but I’ve been treated so poorly, so many times, that it’s a revelation.
His gaze burns in the best of ways, so I stay still while he takes his time admiring my body as if it wasn’t too thin and not all that impressive in comparison to his toned physique.
Maybe I’m only a curiosity. A temporary plaything to make his sex life more interesting, but when he smiles and trails the back of his hand down my tattooed chest, his expression appears so genuine I might just be fooled.
“So handsome. Long and slender, like a fox,” he adds, writing something right below my navel with his finger. My excitement at his words is starting to show.
Is it a turn-on that I’m naked while he’s dressed? Yes. But do I want to see his body in all its glory? Also yes.
I slide my hands over the sweater that feels as soft as if angels made it out of kitten fur.
“And we have time to ourselves now?” When I was still dozing in and out of sleep, several staff members had come in and out of the room.
One to open the curtains, one to bring me a tray of snacks, later another to hang a second stocking over the fireplace (because yes, of course the room also has its own fireplace). I didn’t dare check what’s in it yet.
“As much as we want,” Damen tells me, his eyes dark when he pulls up my hand, then gently turns me, as if we were learning a dance move. I intend to continue the twirl when he lays his hands on my hips, and a flush rushes up my chest when I realize what he wants to see.
Air trembles in my throat when I hear him kneel behind me, because his breath is teasing my naked ass cheeks, which are covered with bruises from yesterday’s punishment.