Chapter Twenty-Three Damien #2
“I wish I knew what I wanted, like you,” she confessed.
I faced her, my neck aching as I turned.
Her eyes had a faraway quality to them. “Sometimes I pretend I’ll leave here and explore.
I used to tell myself all the time that once I got my gift, I’d leave.
I think now I’m using its absence as an excuse to stay.
Even knowing that my father isn’t who he claimed to be.
” Her throat bobbed with emotion. “It’s so hard to make myself picture him as the villain.
But…after the other night, hearing how callous and cruel he sounded… ” She trailed off, her eyes watery.
“It must be hard. Seeing your parent as they actually are. Not the person you once respected.”
Her stare landed on me, searing me in place.
“I know you hate him. Most people do, but I truly convinced myself he wanted to help the people in the south and did business with the lords to get it done, even if they weren’t honest men.
I was a damned fool.” She hid behind a hand, shaking her head. “Fates, I only saw what I wanted.”
With great effort, I clutched her chin between my thumb and forefinger.
“You are no fool, Wren Hayes. And you aren’t weak for wanting to see the good in him.
Kindness, while deadly where I’m from, is a gift.
One people shouldn’t sneer at. It’s more precious than any coin, and not many I know have the capacity to carry it. ”
People would have you believe it was a fault to show emotion and kindness.
Like you were somehow less than, less strong or powerful.
I had been a victim of that belief, but looking at her now, totally exposed and open to me—fuck, it twisted my stomach and my mind.
Made me experience a sense of lightness. Relief.
“Well.” She cleared her throat. “I will take that as the biggest compliment coming from you.” Wren’s lips tugged up at the sides, and the sight of it was akin to balm.
“Just don’t tell anyone,” I whispered. “I have a reputation to hold up, and all.”
Her lips quirked further. “You know I’m still mad at you, Damien, but you have the annoying ability to make me forget all that.”
“Probably didn’t hurt I showed up half dead,” I added with a smirk.
“That definitely helped.”
“Lovely. I’ll just have to nearly die for you to forgive me,” I said.
She shook her head. “I never said I forgave you. Just that you make it hard to be mad at you.”
I didn’t have the courage to bring up what we both were thinking of: the kiss. Me, leaving her afterward. It was all too confusing. Complicated—and I’d never done complicated.
“I’ll gladly take your anger,” I insisted softly. “As long as you always open your window.”
Hell, I didn’t know what I was saying. I blamed the blood loss. Nevertheless, they felt true, all of my admissions. I knew at that moment an irrevocable shift had occurred. One I wasn’t sure I could fix.
Before she replied, knuckles rapped on her door.
“Wren? Why is your door locked?”
“Damn it.” Wren shot up. “Callie.”
The older sister. I’d spotted her leaving with their father a few times. She seemed nice enough, but I wondered if she was aware of her father’s dealings or if Wren had told her.
“I’m getting dressed!” Wren called out.
Silence, and then, “All right, just wanted to say good morning before I left.”
“Love you!” Wren shouted again, sounding all sorts of frantic. I smiled at how flustered her voice became, how she anxiously smoothed her dark golden hair, which stuck out every which way.
“Love you, too.” Footsteps thudded in the hall before Wren exhaled. She grabbed her face and buried herself in her hands.
“Thank the Fates I had the decent sense to lock the door last night. I was half delirious.” She laughed, though it was brittle.
“Imagine the scandal,” I murmured in a haughty tone. “You, on the floor with a known criminal.”
She moved to smack my shoulder before she stopped, remembering my wound.
“Good thing you’re injured,” she muttered, narrowing her gaze.
“But yes, it would be a scandal. And only because you’re half naked, not because of who you are.
Though, all right, the criminal aspect doesn’t help.
” She nibbled on her bottom lip, flustered, and I couldn’t look away.
Fates, I wanted to do the same, to take that bottom lip between my teeth.
This injury dulled all my good sense.
“You’re going to need to rest some more,” she said decidedly, analyzing me in an almost clinical way.
“You’ll sleep in my bed and I’ll stay here too.
I’m great at feigning sickness to get out of things.
Not that I have much to do since I’ve become society’s newest pariah.
It’s actually been nice,” she said with a smirk.
An odd sensation slithered into my chest. I couldn’t name it, but it felt both pleasant and frightening.
“Quite rebellious,” I said quickly, spurning the sensations rioting inside my body. She rolled her eyes and stood.
Wren smoothed down her nightdress before her lips parted, like she only now realized how little she wore.
“I need to change.” Her chest heaved beneath the thin cotton, and the light streaming from the window outlined the perfect shape of her beneath the fabric.
I shut my eyes, willing my body to cooperate, willing myself not to think about how delectable she appeared.
How that little glimpse forced me to shift to the side.
She made a mad scramble for the bathroom, the clanking of pipes coming soon after.
I smacked myself in the face before remembering my injury. But the pain worked to dull some of the lingering heat. A little.
I’d never shared that much. At least not in the way I had with her. That knowledge told me I was in trouble.
The villain never got the princess in stories. And I certainly was the villain in her story—she just didn’t know it yet.
While Wren took her bath, I struggled to my feet and found a pen and paper on her desk.
Meet me tonight outside at midnight. Going to explore Lizzy’s home.
I paused, pen in hand. It felt too stiff after what happened, so I added two more words that still didn’t measure up to what she’d done for me.
She might not understand how difficult this was for me, how allowing someone to take care of me protested against everything I’d been taught. All I could do was add the most sincere words I held in my heart.
Thank you.
Leaving the note on her bed, I snuck out into the hall and found her father’s room. Snagging a shirt, I tugged it on, ignoring how my body protested. Avoiding the cook proved more difficult, but I managed after she dropped her basket of fresh vegetables and cursed up a storm.
I slipped through the front door and shuffled down the street.
Wren had wanted me to stay. Told me I needed rest and that I’d spend the day in her bed.
The problem was that if I stayed, I knew I wouldn’t want to leave.