Chapter 19
Keira
His words replay on repeat. I love you, Keira…
Shock isn’t even a word I could use to describe or explain how I feel. I’d been saying I love you to him for a while, but I didn’t think he would actually say the words to me—and never out loud.
It’s like he’s changed. Something inside him has cracked, and he’s finally slipping his mask off and letting me in. He’s been acting like he cares for me—but is it love?
I didn’t think it was possible for a man like Damon to admit he was is in love. Yet, here we are, in the bathroom of this giant house where he grew up with his brother, his tiny little secret right down the hall. If Damon was ever going to tell me he loved me, I didn’t suspect it would happen here.
“Come on. Your hands are turning to prunes. Let’s get you dried off and into bed.”
As I stand, I notice my legs are still weak, causing my knees to threaten to buckle beneath my weight. I was seriously exhausted before stepping into this hot bath, and now my muscles are relaxed, making me even hungrier for sleep.
When I step out of the tub and into the large, fluffy towel Damon is holding out, the soreness between my legs flares, reminding me of the rough way he took me earlier. I was shocked at first—and he did hurt me in the beginning—but once my body adjusted, I enjoyed the way he took me.
He was hot and possessive, and he made my body shake with need.
The orgasm was mind blowing. I’m so confused by the way he made me feel, I don’t think I can explain it to Damon in a way he’ll understand—at least not tonight.
But I do hope he does it again, because there was something so primal about the way he wanted me, needed me.
Like he had to have me. Thinking about it makes my muscles clench and my body hum.
I realize we, once again, didn’t use a condom, and my mind shifts to the secret down the hall.
When will Xander tell his brother about his son? How long will I have to keep this secret from Damon?
Damon’s touch pulls me from my thoughts as he wraps me up in the towel, pulling me into his chest. As he starts to dry me off, I thank the good Lord for delivering a man to me who I consider to be one the best alive.
My eyes comb his well-defined upper body, his shoulders and the cords of muscles in his throat.
His biceps flex, and my core clenches. My gaze slips lower over his abdomen and down to his V.
His muscles tighten with every move he makes, and I can’t stop the urge I have to reach out and touch him. I want to feel him under my fingertips.
I trace his pecs, enjoying how smooth and warm his skin feels and how hard the muscle is beneath it. It’s so small, I almost miss it, but when my fingers go back over the same patch of skin, I notice a small blemish—an abnormality on an almost perfect surface.
“What’s this?” I trace the small indentation, becoming aware Damon is done drying me off and now staring down at me as I feel him up.
“It’s a bullet wound,” Damon says, as if it’s obvious I’d know that.
“Yeah. I gathered that it was a wound. Why? Who shot you?” I have a fierce need to protect Damon—which is strange since he can kill with his bare hands. I love him, and the thought of someone shooting or hurting him bothers me a lot.
He tosses the towel over his shoulders, pads out of the bathroom, brushing past me, and I worry he may not give me an answer.
As fast as my legs allow, I follow behind him, watching as he walks to his dresser and pulls out a T-shirt and a pair of boxers.
“Here, you can sleep in these. I forgot to bring the luggage inside, and I don’t want to go back out to get it.” He gives me a soft smile. “Hope that’s okay.”
I narrow my gaze. “Who shot you, Damon?”
His eyes darken. “I don’t think you’re ready to hear the dirty details about my family, baby. We’re a seriously fucked up crowd, and I intend to keep you as far away from it all as I can.”
For as long as I’ve known Damon, I’ve been a pushover. I’ve allowed him to sweep things under the rug, but if I’m going to marry him and make it through a life with him, then I’m going to need to tighten my backbone. I’m going to need to say what I want to, when I want to.
“It’s a little late to save me from the gory details.
I know things now. Things that can’t be unseen or unheard.
” I soften my voice. “And I know it’s in the past—a past that doesn’t include me—but I am part of your life now, and if you’re seriously going to marry me, I’ll be part of your future for a long time.
I want to protect you like you protect me.
I want to hear about your problems…your fears.
I want to be your equal. So, dammit, just tell me. ”
When my eyes meet Damon’s. I expect to see anger, maybe even fury, but there’s humor in his gaze and smile.
“I don’t know how you do it, Keira, but you make me fucking want you more and more every day. It’s sickening and terrifies the fuck out of me.”
His response warms my heart and makes me smile.
I cross the room and get dressed in the items he set out, waiting impatiently for him to tell me.
I have to roll the boxers more than a couple times to get them to stay on my waist, and when I pull on his shirt, it lands at my knees.
I feel and look like I’ve been swallowed by cotton.
When I settle onto the mattress, Damon sits beside me and reaches for my hand—like he needs to be touching me in some way to tell me this story.
I don’t mind. His touch is comforting, kind, and I love that he’s finally showing me his different sides.
He reminds of a kaleidoscope. I see a different shape and color every time I look, and then they become clearer.
“My dad shot me. That scar is from the bullet. It was the same night Xander shot him.”
Damon’s gaze seems far away, and I wonder if he’s thinking back to that night.
“Actually, it was the reason Xander shot him. My father tried to kill me. He wanted Xander to do it. When my brother refused, my dad shot me instead. It’s a good thing he’s a lousy shot.
If not, I’m sure I wouldn’t be here today.
” He grins, but it makes me feel sick. I’m sure he’s smiling to lessen the blow, but it doesn’t.
Unfortunately, he can’t protect me from all the bad in this world.
At least his father is dead…I guess.
My chest hurts thinking about what Damon must have went through. His own father tried to kill him, then their father died by the hands of his brother—right in front of him. It sounds horrendous and makes my life problems seem mediocre.
“I’m sorry.” I give him a somber look and squeeze his hand tightly, as if that will take his pain away.
“I am, really. I’m sorry we had to come here. I can’t imagine what being here in this house has done to your head.”
Damon shrugs. “It’s okay, Keira. I don’t want your pity. I wanted to come here, and it was worth it. You make every hard thing worthwhile. If you didn’t bring me back here, it would’ve been my brother with his asshole ways, so don’t feel bad, baby.”
Damon pulls me into his arms and drags me to the bed. We cuddle up in the heavy comforter, and I bask in the feeling of him holding me like this. It feels so good, I almost don’t want to go to sleep.
The last thing I think about before sleep finally claims me is how Damon’s story gives me a newfound appreciation for Xander.
Discovering all I did about him tonight shows me there’s more than one side to him—sides he’s trying to hide from the world.
The question is: will he ever find someone to pull him out of the darkness he tries to hide himself in?