Chapter 17
Damen
Aspen was the worst fucking choice for Killian’s minder.
A kid with little life experience, spoiled to boot, brash, and unable to even get lunch without the help of a professional chef, wasn’t the right person for the job.
I thought that as young and brainless, he wouldn’t meddle the way my sister or her husband could.
I only meant for him to lead Killian back home.
Whatever confidence I had in that decision originally was gone the moment I saw Aspen ride toward me with the same expression Alexandra’s son had last year when he used a whole bottle of her favorite artisanal perfume on their dog. And when my cousin told me what happened, my jaw kept dropping.
I fucked up.
I really did.
To make matters worse, Corvus, out of all people, was around for Aspen’s confession, and just happened to casually mention Clara, Uncle Roger’s first wife. On finding out about the hunt, she’d tried to run away on horseback, and weeks later her body was found frozen in the woods.
So excuse me for getting twitchy when the app I use to track Kill reveals that he’s back in the stables after visiting our bedroom. He’s probably packed his things and is about to make a run for it.
Over my dead body.
So maybe I should have told him about the hunt in more detail, but this feels like a slight. Couldn’t he have come to me about the matter first? I’ve never been this honest with anybody before, and he throws salt on my raw insides?
I can’t let him leave me over this.
Conflicting emotions—anger, sadness, and guilt—buzz inside me so violently I’m feeling a bit faint by the time I ride into the stables, leaning down to avoid hitting my head on the beams supporting the ceiling.
Renoir fidgets under me, but all I care about is the lone figure I see hiding behind a support beam by Bessie’s stall.
“No!” I shout and halt my ride before sliding off right next to Killian, who stumbles against the wooden gate, his eyes wide as if I’m here to drink his blood. I told him what I was. He knows my occupation. Is the hunt really such a big step farther?
“N-no… what?” he asks with that tremble in his voice. I hate that he’s once more afraid of me, but it won’t do him any good riding into a forest on his own either.
“You’re not running from me like this,” I growl and grab him by the shoulders, because something about the jittery way his eyes dart left and right tells me he might bolt.
“Years ago, someone tried, and they died in the woods. Would you like to end up like her? You’re mine.
Do you understand that?” It slips out. I didn’t mean it to say it out loud.
I wanted him to come to me on his own, but I can’t stand the idea that he still thinks he is free to leave me.
He meets my gaze, eyes red like he’s been crying. I want to squeeze every truth out of him. What was he thinking? Why was he crying? Does he hate me for all of this?
“I’m… I’m not trying to run!” he chokes out with a growing scowl.
“No?” I ask, squeezing his arms as the pulsing inside my skull grows in intensity. “Then why are you in the stables?”
“I just met this horse! And you know I can barely ride, so how would I be escaping on horseback?” He squints at me and raises a hand with an apple in it. “I’m trying to make friends with Bessie. Since she’s my only goddamn hope in this house full of liars!”
I blink, about to glance into the stall when the massive head dives between us to capture the fruit.
“I—what?” I mumble, unsure where I was going with this in the first place. “I didn’t lie…”
“Yes you did! Never once did you mention that you happen to be hunting people! What the fuck, Damen? I trusted you, but you don’t trust me. Not with the important shit, you don’t. I guess why would you if I’m also prey tomorrow, huh?” Kill pushes my chest, like a cornered kitten showing claws.
Aspen clearly omitted the fact that he also told my fake husband a bunch of bullshit that probably reached him through gossip between the uninitiated.
“No. You will be completely safe. I swear,” I say and cup his face so he can’t look away or run. “I don’t know what Aspen told you, but it’s bullshit. I would never put my husband in danger!”
I hate the way his lips tremble, but at least it means there’s feelings for me other than anger hidden behind the growing wall. “So they won’t be hunting me?”
I’m going to kill my cousin.
“No. Nothing of the sort.”
Killian takes a deep breath. “I asked you for one thing. You promised not to lie to me. You know how important that is to me. And here I am. Like a fucking dumbass. Trusting a man who hunts people for sport. You are my worst choice yet!” He hits my chest without much conviction.
So I am his choice.
Maybe I shouldn’t smile when he’s in crisis, but the affirmation he accidentally delivers makes my heart feel lighter.
“They’re bad people though.”
His eyes settle on me, the internal struggle all too clear. “How bad?”
Hook. Line. Sinker.
“Worse than me,” I whisper, caging him against the fence as Bessie pokes her head out and sniffs my pocket. I ignore her and stroke my boy’s cheekbones as his dark eyes watch me with all the hope in the world. He wants to believe me.
He wants to be mine.
“And you know how bad I can be,” I finish softly.
His eyes moisten, and I hate myself for being the reason for his tears. “Why did you lie to me?” he utters.
I sigh, knowing there’s no running from the fact that I did omit some truths. I hate that.
“Well… I didn’t lie exactly. I was waiting for the right moment to tell you, because—” I swallow the rock forming in my throat and meet his tearful gaze. “You were undecided, and I wanted you to like me.”
This isn’t another lie to manipulate him. Deep in my heart, I was still afraid to show him all of me, afraid he’d turn away from me if he knew that yes, I am the kind of man to be excited about tracking and hunting down our family’s enemies. It’s not normal.
“And you still do? Is that why you said I’m yours?” The hand he punched my chest with before now flattens over my heart. He wants this. I knew it. He’s not even protesting the hunt anymore.
He is my gem. The one who’s worth all this hassle. The only one for me.
Emotions flood me unexpectedly, and I descend to one knee, holding on to both his hands.
“Mon chéri, I will never not want you. This time apart, when I couldn’t touch you the way I wanted was torture.
It only proved what I already knew before you broke off our engagement.
We need each other. I did give you time to think, yes, but I never wanted to just let you go.
You belong with me, and I will prove it to you every single day. ”
Killian slides his fingers into my hair watching me with half-lidded eyes. “You wouldn’t let me go?”
I shoot to my feet and kiss his forehead as I wrap my arms around his small form, pulling him close, where he belongs.
“I know it’s wrong, and if you truly wanted to leave…
I would have let you, but you don’t. I know you want me too, and I’m not going to let you make the mistake of running from this thing between us. ”
“It is wrong. It’s fucked up,” Kill whispers against my shoulder.
“But it’s exactly what I want deep down.
The kind of relationship that borders on unhealthy.
I’ve been trying to reason with myself, but I’m done.
I’m not letting my brain decide about things that should only be judged by my heart.
If I die, I die. I’m not afraid anymore.
I want to feel the burn of your passion. Can you be that for me?”
I never wanted anything more, but when he says this so frankly, I’m borderline intimidated by the intensity in his eyes. He’s beautiful like this, ready to sacrifice himself on the altar of our relationship.
“You won’t die, because if someone wants to get rid of you, they’ll have to go through me first. I’m never letting you go, baby.”
Kill slides his arms around my waist, making me groan. Oh, how I missed his touch. No audience here. This is real and just for me. “No lies? I can handle everything you are.” He kisses my neck, and I’m already getting hard at his closeness.
The promise he’s made is everything I’ve ever wanted, and I grab his ass, lifting him so he can close his legs around my hips. He is the perfect size for this. “Never. You will know everything if you let me love you.”
Kill lets out a happy little whimper and nods, then catches my lips in a kiss. For the first time in a week, I don’t need to wonder if it’s just for show. I don’t steal it from him, it’s freely given. Even his legs are already open to me.
I not only feel seen but see him too. He is committed, soft-hearted, and craves love like it’s oxygen. I can give him that in spades, and when I do, he’ll make me the happiest husband on earth.
“You’re so handsome. And you smell so damn good,” I moan, burying my face in his neck as I press him to the wooden support and rock my hips to feel his hard cock against mine.
Oh, he’s so ready for me, and I refuse to wait any longer.
I need to remind him that he is mine before my balls start aching.
“I need you to fuck me,” he whispers as if he’s reading my mind. “I missed you so much. And your dick? God…” Killian hangs onto me, flooding my brain with so much oxytocin I might get a head rush.
“I’ve jerked off twice yesterday thinking about pushing my cum inside you,” I rasp and squeeze his ass harder as we rock together like two mindless animals interested only in rutting.
“Good to know you can go twice,” he teases with the sweetest chuckle, but then a grating sound halts my mind with a screech.
“I need those documents tonight! I don’t care it’s Christmas!
” Alexandra yells, no doubt to one of the poor interns in her law firm, but by the time she walks past us, it’s too late.
“I will call you back,” she says into her phone and hangs up.
“What in all hells is this? My children could have ran in here!”
I cup Killian’s head and hide his face by pushing it against my neck. Our cocks throb with need, but it’s just Alexandra’s style to arrive at the worst possible moment. “Well, they didn’t, and I think you can take it,” I snap, pulling away from the column.
She crosses her arms on her chest and glares at us. “And stop carrying him around like that! My children will get confused.”
Killian peeks out with a groan. “About what? Whether I’m actually a princess?”
I bite back a smirk. That’s the snarky asshole I adore. “You are my princess,” I say as I carry him outside, hoping Alexandra will have the good sense to stable my horse for me. If not, one of the grooms will do it. Renoir is way too lazy to hop around so late in the day.
“I kinda like it when you carry me,” Kill says, staring at me as if I’m one of Claude Monet's masterpieces. “Are you taking me to my tower, my prince?”
I wish to take him straight to my bed, but I promised him no more lies, and since we’ve been interrupted already, I itch to get the last of them out of the way.
“Better. I’ll show you everything there is to know about me.”