Chapter 27 Damien
Damien
Istir awake, her scent enveloping me like a familiar embrace.
Karina is nestled against my chest, her breath steady and rhythmic, each soft exhale brushing against my exposed skin.
The afternoon sun streams through the curtains, casting a warm glow that dances across her bruised skin.
Even with the remnants of Lockhart's brutality etched on her, she radiates a beauty that captivates me completely.
Mine.
My wolf rumbles with satisfaction as I trace the curve of her shoulder with my fingertips. The marks from last night have already begun to fade—one of the benefits of her werewolf healing. By tomorrow, they'll be nothing but memories. The physical ones, at least.
I brush a strand of hair from her face, my touch light enough not to wake her. After everything she endured yesterday, she needs rest. The shift, the fight, the decisions we made afterward—all of it has taken a toll.
And yet, I can't stop touching her. Can't stop reassuring myself that she's here, safe in my arms, where nothing can harm her. My fingertips drift along the curve of her spine, memorizing each vertebra through the thin cotton of my borrowed shirt.
She stirs, her body arching into my touch like a cat seeking more. A small sound escapes her throat—half sigh, half moan—and my body responds instantly, hardening against her hip.
“Mmm.” The sound slips from her as she shifts closer, still half-asleep. Her lashes lift slowly, eyes hazy before they sharpen on my face. The bruise on her cheekbone has already faded to a yellow smear. My fingers skim over it, memorizing every trace before it vanishes completely.
“How long was I out?”
“Almost fourteen hours.” A reluctant smile tugs at my mouth. “You needed it.”
She stretches languidly against me, every subtle brush of her body sparking a want I struggle to ignore. My cock aches, but I force my thoughts back to her recovery, not the ache thrumming in my blood. She’s still healing. Still fragile.
“Fourteen?” Karina blinks up at me, startled. “What time is it?”
“Just after three.” My palm settles on her hip, thumb tracing idle circles against the soft fabric of my shirt draped over her frame. “How do you feel?”
Her eyes fall shut again as she takes inventory of herself, the small furrow between her brows deepening while she measures each ache, each lingering bruise.
“Still sore, but...better.” Her stomach growls loudly. “And apparently still hungry.”
I can't help but smile. “The shift burns through calories. Your body's trying to replenish what it lost.”
“Is that why I feel like I could eat an entire cow? Raw?”
“That's your wolf talking.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, marveling at how quickly she's adapting to her nature. “She's closer to the surface now that you've embraced her.”
“You're hungry too,” she smiles, her hand sliding up my bare chest. “Just not for food.”
My breath catches as her fingers trace the contours of my muscles, leaving trails of heat in their wake. She's right—I'm starving, but not in a way that can be satisfied with meat or bread.
“Karina,” I warn, capturing her wandering hand. “You're still healing.”
“I'm a werewolf, remember? I heal fast.” She leans closer, her lips brushing against my jaw. “Besides, I want to replace those memories with better ones.”
I understand immediately what she means. Lockhart's hands on her. His threats. His possession. She wants to erase them with my touch, my love.
“Are you sure?” I ask, even as my resolve weakens with each soft press of her lips against my skin.
She answers by shifting her body until she's straddling me, her thighs bracketing my hips. The thin cotton of my shirt rides up, revealing the curve of her ass and the fact that she's wearing absolutely nothing underneath. The sight nearly undoes me completely.
She answers by grinding her hips against my cock, straining against my shorts. “I need this. Need you. You don’t have to be gentle with me. I won’t break.”
My hands find her hips, steadying her as she rocks against me.
“I need to hear you say it,” I growl, the last thread of discipline fraying as her hips move against me. “Tell me exactly what you want, kitten.”
She leans down until her lips brush against my ear, her breath hot against my skin. “I want you to make me forget every hand that touched me except yours. I want you to reclaim what's yours.”
My restraint shatters. In one fluid motion, I flip her onto her back, caging her beneath me.
I capture her mouth with mine, careful of her healing lip but unable to hold back the hunger that's been building since I found her in that clearing.
She responds immediately, her body arching up to meet mine, her hands sliding down my back to push at my shorts.
“These. Off. Now,” she demands between kisses, her fingers hooking into the waistband.
I oblige, breaking away just long enough to shed the last barrier between us.
When I return to her, she's pulled my shirt over her head, leaving her gloriously naked beneath me.
I pause, drinking in the sight of her. My breath catches in my throat.
Bruises still mark her skin—fading, but visible reminders of what she endured.
Yet she's never looked more beautiful to me than she does right now, sprawled across my sheets.
“Damien,” she begs, reaching for me. “Don't stop.”
I lower myself over her, careful to keep my weight on my forearms as I settle between her thighs. She's warm and wet against my cock, her body ready for me despite everything. The scent of her arousal fills my lungs, making my wolf growl with satisfaction.
“I'll never stop wanting you. Never stop needing you.”
Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging me closer as she lifts her hips, seeking friction. “Then show me.”
I trail kisses down her throat, over her collarbone, taking my time despite the urgency building in my blood. Each bruise gets special attention—a gentle press of lips, a whispered promise against her skin. I'm erasing Lockhart's touch with my own.
When I reach her breasts, I pause to look up at her face.
Her eyes are heavy-lidded, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she watches me worship her body.
The vulnerability in her expression steals my breath.
In this moment, she's offering more than just her body.
She's giving me her trust, her faith that I can help her.
“You’re so beautiful,” I breathe against her skin, reverence lacing every word as I draw one dusky nipple into my mouth.
She gasps, her back arching off the bed as I lavish her with slow, gentle attention, my tongue circling the sensitive peak until it hardens beneath my care.
Her hands slip into my hair, not just urging but anchoring me there, as if she knows I would worship her forever if given the chance.
I shift my attention to her other breast, giving it the same reverent treatment while my hand slides down her stomach, feeling the quiver of muscles beneath my touch.
When I reach the apex of her thighs, I find her slick and ready, her body responding to me in ways that make my cock throb with need.
“Please,” she whimpers, her hips lifting to meet my touch as I circle her clit with my thumb. “I need you inside me.”
“I need to be inside you too, kitten, but I'm worried about hurting you.” I press a kiss to her inner thigh, feeling her tremble beneath my lips. “Your body's still healing.”
She sits up, pushing against my shoulders. “Then let me take control.”
Before I can respond, she shifts us, rolling me onto my back with surprising strength. She straddles me again, slick warmth hovering just above my cock, teasing us both.
“Like this. Let me show you what I need.”
Fuck. The sight of her above me, bruised but unbowed, claiming her own pleasure, is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. My hands grip her thighs as she lowers herself, the head of my cock pressing against her entrance.
“Take what’s yours,” I growl, fighting the urge to thrust up into that wet, welcoming heat.
She sinks down slowly, her body stretching to accommodate me. A moan escapes her lips as she takes me inch by inch, her eyes locked with mine the entire time. When she's fully seated, she pauses, adjusting to the feeling of being completely filled.
“That's it,” I encourage, my voice rough with need. “You feel so fucking good around me, kitten.”
Her hands brace against my chest as she begins to move, lifting herself up before sliding back down with agonizing slowness. I groan at the sensation, my fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs.
“That's it,” I encourage, watching her find her rhythm. “Take what you need.”
She moves with growing confidence, her body rising and falling in a hypnotic rhythm that has me fighting to hold myself together. Each downward stroke pulls a small gasp from her lips.
I'm mesmerized by the sight of her. Her palms press against my chest for leverage as she begins to move faster, chasing her release.
“You're mine,” I growl, unable to stop the possessive words that tear from my throat. “Every beautiful inch of you.”
“Yours,” she agrees. “Only yours.”
I slide my hands from her thighs to her hips, helping guide her movements as she rides me.
I can’t look away. Karina moves above me like a goddess—strong, unyielding, determined. My hands anchor her hips, guiding her into a rhythm that wrings every ounce of pleasure from us both.
“That’s it, kitten,” I urge. “Take what you need.”
She shifts forward, changing the angle until each stroke draws a sharp gasp from her throat. Her curls fall around us, a dark veil that shuts out the world until there’s only her and me. I reach up, cupping her face, my thumb brushing over the bruise on her cheekbone like a vow.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”