Chapter 7
7
DAMIEN
I waited for her for hours. When I knocked on the front door of the Ryder residence and they told me she wasn’t taking visitors, I assumed she was avoiding me. So I snuck inside, only to find her bedroom empty. She wasn’t home, and it was way past midnight. As the hours crept by, I started to worry. Even so, I couldn’t alert the household of her disappearance in case they didn’t know she had gone out.
She couldn’t try to return through the portal in the river because there was no thunderstorm tonight and that was the only way the portal would open. So where could she possibly be? Hiding out at the lake house, perhaps?
I was about to leave and track her down when I heard footsteps outside her bedroom door. Quiet murmurs sounded from the other side of the door and then someone tiptoed inside. The newcomer lit a candle. When the wick flared to life, I saw it was Cat.
“Where the hell have you been?” I demanded.
She shrieked and covered her mouth, nearly dropping the candle she held. “Holy shit! Wear a bell or something! I nearly had a heart attack!”
“It’s almost dawn and you’re just now returning. Do you know how worried I’ve been?” I sat at the foot of her bed and fixed her with a steely glare.
“My fake father wasn’t even worried where I was. Why should you be?” She set the candle holder on top of the bureau and started to undress.
I should have looked away, given her privacy, but I couldn’t help but stare.
Her body was pure perfection. All curves, golden tan skin that prickled with goosebumps from the breeze, with artful marks she called tattoos trailing all down her left arm, along with a single mark on her lower back of a butterfly. This definitely wasn’t Arya.
I watched her put on her nightgown, unable to tear my eyes away. “Where were you, Cat?” I asked softly.
“I had to deliver the paintings to the vampires,” she casually said.
My gaze widened in disbelief. “You what ?”
She peered over her shoulder. “You heard me. Unless you need hearing aids, old man. I mean, you are seventy-five years old.”
I growled. “You shouldn’t have gone alone.”
“I didn’t,” she said. “I brought Garrick and Maeve with me.” There was a slight pause before she said, “And my fae friend came, too.”
My growl deepened. “Cat,” I reprimanded. “I don’t want you associating with that fae. We don’t even know who he is!”
She shrugged and then turned back around. “I don’t care what you want. You’re keeping me here as your prisoner, but that doesn’t mean you get to dictate my life.”
I wanted to argue and tell her that’s exactly what being a prisoner meant, but if I did, we would never meet on common ground. Still, I didn’t trust that fae friend of hers. The bargain she made with him would only bring her trouble. If the emperor discovered she freed a fae – intentionally or not – it could cause not only her death, but that of the whole Ryder family. I didn’t think she realized that.
As I watched her move around the room, my frustration was palpable, but so was another, more dangerous emotion—desire. Cat's unyielding defiance and her fiery spirit didn't merely irritate me, they intrigued me. Something about her stubbornness drew me closer, despite my better judgment.
“Cat?” I kept my voice low and valiantly tried to keep my tone even. “You're playing with fire. You know that, don’t you?”
She paused with her back to me. Flickering candlelight highlighted the smooth curve of her neck. “Maybe I like fire,” she retorted. Her voice was flippant, but there was an undercurrent of seriousness that caught me off guard.
I stood and closed the distance between us with a few measured steps. My heart raced, not just with anger, but with something more complex and consuming. I reached out and brushed my hand along her arm. She tensed but didn't pull away.
“Playing with fire can get you burned,” I whispered, leaning in so close I could smell the scent of her hair, a mix of lavender and something uniquely hers.
She finally turned to face me, her eyes defiant yet uncertain. “Did you ever consider that maybe I’m willing to take that risk?” she whispered back, her breath mingling with mine. “If you don’t remember anything else about me, Damien, I want you to remember this … You can’t control me.”
My frustration boiled over. “You think this is merely about control?” I snapped, taking a step closer. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in with the weight of our confrontation. “You're meddling with forces you don't understand, Cat. This isn't a game!”
She matched my intensity, stepping forward so we were almost nose-to-nose. “Maybe I understand more than you think!” she snapped. “Maybe I'm tired of being a pawn in your little power struggles. Have you ever considered that?”
The raw honesty in her voice made me pause. In the dim candlelight, her eyes shimmered with a blend of defiance and fear, a combination that was equal turns infuriating and captivating.
“You're not a pawn,” I said quietly, the anger in my voice subsiding into something more pleading. “I'm only trying to keep you safe—”
“How? By locking me up?” she scoffed, her laugh hollow. “You have a funny way of showing you care, Damien.”
The tension thickened and each breath shared in the confined space added to the stifling atmosphere. The candle highlighted the stubborn set of her jaw and the slight quiver of her lips.
“I'm not your enemy, Cat,” I said, my voice softening. “But there are enemies out there, ones you can't handle alone.”
“And you think you can handle them?” Her tone was skeptical. She crossed her arms over her chest and took a small step back, creating a sliver of distance between us that felt like a chasm.
“I've been dealing with their kind for decades,” I reminded her, my voice low. “I know their tactics, their weaknesses. You're new to this world, Cat. You don't have to like me, but you need me.”
The tension between us quickly escalated, words thick with unspoken frustrations. Cat's stance was defensive, her tone sharp. “You think you can just dictate my life because I'm stuck here?” she challenged, her voice rising slightly.
I closed the space between us in two quick strides, my frustration peaking. “This is not about control, Cat! It's about your safety; something you seem to blatantly disregard!”
She pushed against my chest, but the small room and her weakened state from the day's events made her push more symbolic than effective. “I can take care of myself!”
I grabbed her wrists gently but firmly, to stop her from pushing me again. The movement brought us dangerously close. “You're reckless,” I said, my voice low and stern. “Going off to meet with vampires, with fae… Do you even understand the risks you're taking?”
Her chest heaved, rising and falling against mine. “Let go of me,” she said, her voice a mix of anger and desperation.
Instead of complying, I tightened my grip, my concern morphing into something more intense when I saw fear flicker in her eyes. “Not until you listen to me.”
The struggle shifted as she stopped pushing against me and instead pulled, unbalancing us both, and we tumbled onto the bed in a mess of limbs, a whirl of conflicting emotions and physical disarray. For a moment, we were both stunned, my body partially covering hers. Then her breath hitched and her eyes locked with mine, a storm of emotions swirling within them. Our close proximity, the scent of her hair, the feel of her body under mine—it all collided into a moment of raw tension.
Cat’s shock at our sudden closeness mirrored the tumult in my own mind. The room, lit by a single flickering candle, seemed to close in on us, intensifying every sound and movement.
“Damien, get off !” Cat’s voice was sharp, but her struggle beneath me was half-hearted as if her energy was spent in the fervor of our argument.
I should have moved, given her space, but frustration and fear for her safety fueled a deeper desperation. “Listen to me, Cat! You can’t keep risking your life like this!” My voice was rough, almost a plea.
Her eyes, wide and fiery, met mine, and in that split-second of vulnerable confrontation, something shifted. My heart hammered against my chest, echoing strangely in my ears. Her eyes dropped to my lips and she licked her own. I felt her heart rate speed up and knew I wasn’t the only one caught up in the moment.
Swept up in a storm of emotions, a surge of something else—something deeper and more primal—washed over me as I looked down at her. Her blazing, defiant eyes challenged and pulled at me in equal measure. In a fleeting moment of raw vulnerability, our frustrations melded into a palpable tension that drew us inexplicably closer.
Before I fully comprehended the shift, my resistance crumbled and my body acted on its own accord, drawn by the gravity between us. I leaned down, my breath mingling with hers and my mind reeling with the implications of what was about to happen. And then, our lips met.
The kiss was a clash of everything unsaid, a furious melding of frustration and an inexplicable tenderness that belied the harshness of our previous words. It was as if all our pent-up emotions found their outlet in this one reckless act. Her lips were soft against mine, responding with a surprising fervor that matched my own. The kiss deepened, driven by a mixture of emotions neither of us could fully articulate nor understand.
But as quickly as the fire ignited, the reality of our situation poured cold clarity over us. I abruptly pulled back, the absence of her lips leaving a stark chill in its wake. Breathless, our chests heaved and we stared at each other wide-eyed in the darkness. The air was charged, heavy with the echoes of our kiss and the unsaid truths it unearthed.
“What are we doing?” I whispered, the words barely audible, filled with both wonder and regret. This wasn't supposed to happen, not with the complexities of our lives entwined in danger and duty.
Cat's eyes were large, her expression a mirror of my turmoil. For a moment, she was silent, her breath catching in her throat as if she was about to speak. But then she shook her head, a silent acknowledgment of the line we just crossed and the walls we hastily needed to rebuild.
And then… she slapped me. Hard. To say I was taken aback would be an understatement.
“Oh my God!” she gasped, her voice laced with confused anger.
I reared back, still straddling her, pinning her down not with my weight but with the force of my presence. The room was silent save for our heavy breathing. The soft flicker of the candle highlighted Cat’s flushed cheeks and the spark of defiance still alive in her eyes.
“You’re not leaving my sight until you realize the danger you’re in.” My voice was low and controlled, trying to rein in the tumult that raged inside me.
Cat’s response was a heated glare. “You think I’ll allow you to control me just because you’re worried? I’m not one of your whores from The Gilded Serpent, Damien!”
The intensity of her gaze challenged me and pushed me, but it also pulled at something deeper, something I was reluctant to acknowledge. I sighed, my posture softening. “I only want you to be safe. You don’t understand what you’re dealing with.”
“And I suppose you’ll teach me?” she retorted, her voice dripping with skepticism. “By keeping me under your thumb?”
I paused, searching for the right words. “I’m trying to protect you,” I finally said, the truth of my feelings breaking through the frustration.
Cat laughed bitterly, her body relaxing slightly under mine, though her eyes never left my face. “How? By making me feel like a prisoner?”
I sighed again and the fight drained out of me as the reality of our situation settled in. Slowly, I rolled off her and sat beside her on the bed, dropping my head into my hands. “I don’t know how else to keep you safe,” I admitted, suddenly feeling weary.
Cat sat up, her anger subsiding into a complicated frown. “Maybe start by trusting me, not just trying to cage me,” she suggested, her voice softer. Softer than I ever expected. I mean, she did want to kill me.
I looked over at her, struck by her words. Trust—something so simple, yet so difficult to give when fear clouded every judgment. “Do you think you can trust me?” I asked softly, already knowing the answer.
She nibbled on her lower lip and shook her head no.
“Then what makes you think I can trust you?” I quirked a brow. It was a valid question. Trust went both ways.
She lowered her head and nodded. “You’re right,” she murmured. “I guess I should practice what I preach.”
“Are you saying you’re going to start trusting me?”
“Honestly, I don’t know if I can. I seriously want to kill you. But… I can try,” she whispered. “But it won’t be easy. And you need to reciprocate.”
That was the hard part. “You can’t go see the vampires anymore, Cat.”
She nodded. “If we’re burning down the estate and fighting grounds anyway, then I won’t need to. Hopefully, tonight was the last time.”
“I would hope so,” I murmured. “The vampires are tricky. If they call on you again, you must let me know. And don’t believe that fae friend of yours, either. I don’t trust him.”
“Okay.”
I couldn’t believe we’d spent this whole time arguing and were finally reaching a simple resolution. With Cat, it couldn’t be this simple. She refused to look me in the eyes, which meant I couldn’t trust the words coming out of her mouth. But for now, I would accept our temporary truce.
“You should, uh… you should go before someone catches you here.” She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “The guards have been making the rounds more often to prepare for the arrival of my so-called brother tomorrow.”
I furrowed my brows. “Jacob arrives tomorrow?”
She nodded. “Supposedly there’s going to be a big parade in town to celebrate the Nightwings’ arrival from the borders. At least that was what Maeve told me.”
“My father’s favorite army has been guarding our borders for two years now. I’m sure he’ll throw a massive banquet in the coming days.” I grunted in annoyance and fell back onto the bed.
“What are you doing?” she gasped and tried to pull me back up. “You need to leave!”
I shrugged. “I’ll leave in the morning.”
“It is morning, Damien,” she growled. “Isn’t it almost your curfew?”
“I have a few more hours,” I mumbled, grabbing her wrist and pulling her down beside me. “Stop worrying so much and shut your eyes for a bit. I’m tired.”
She scoffed. “If Lord Zacharia finds you in my bed, I’ll turn you into a eunuch myself,” she threatened.
I cupped myself self-consciously. “Of course.”