Chapter 6 #2
“And Damon suits you.” I placed my hand on his muscular thigh and gave it a squeeze. “Like the Greek myth of Damon and Pythias.”
When he cocked his head, I elaborated. “Pythias was sentenced to death by the king but asked for a reprieve to say goodbye to his family first. Damon offered to be held hostage in his stead, and executed if his friend failed to return. Pythias did return—in the nick of time and against all odds—and the king was so moved by their friendship, he pardoned them both.”
I suspect it was more than “friendship” binding them together, but that’s neither here nor there.
Damon tentatively covered my hand with his. “I’ve never heard that story before—don’t know much about Greek myths at all. My… mother picked out my name before I was born, but then she died giving birth to me. Luckily, she’d mentioned it to some of the doves, so they were able to pass it along.”
I simply stared at the man seated next to me, lightly rubbing my thumb over his, relishing the feel of his skin, his warmth, his life.
He knows what loss feels like.
How perfect can one man be?
“Thank you for sharing that with me, pet,” I leaned forward to deliver a light kiss, unable to resist. “Now, what else would you like to know?”
Please don’t ask about my family.
Not yet.
Damon grimaced and withdrew his hand. “I… I’m not sure I should be asking but…”
Intrigued, I sat up straighter, even as I braced myself for the inevitable. Despite my trepidation, I would tell him anything if it meant earning his trust.
I want him to know me.
He blew out a breath and fixed his attention on the faro table, avoiding my gaze. “It’s clear you have certain… preferences that we should discuss.”
Oh.
It appeared Mattie wasn’t the only one who’d identified what I was, and I had to assume Damon’s knowledge of my true nature was thanks to her wise teachings.
Such a meddlesome woman.
I cleared my throat. “Yes, and I probably should have told you…”
But I didn’t want to frighten you away.
Damon’s arresting eyes snapped to mine. “That you despise faro with your entire being? That you’re clearly a poker man?”
I gaped before doubling over in laughter, delighted that this sweet yet secretly mischievous man almost had me spilling my darkest sins.
We’ll leave the confession for another time.
“Guilty as charged,” I chuckled before standing and holding out my hand for him. “Shall we find some fellow gamblers to swindle out of their hard-earned money?”
My mate stifled a smile as he stood. “The Royale is where the high rollers play, but I don’t know anything about swindling. We run an honest game here in the House of Eternal Moonlight.”
I glanced down at what was clearly a “gaffed” dealer’s box and a deck of marked cards but kept my observations to myself.
Because now I know he’s just like me.
And now I have a plan…
“A night out at the Royale sounds perfect,” I crooned, sweeping his luxurious hair off his shoulders before cupping his face in my hands. “But first, I’m going to need you to run upstairs and apply some ash to your eyelids again.”
He shook himself free with a laugh, his cheeks pinking. “Oh, stop teasing. Pearl was to blame for the cosmetics, and I forgot I even had it on until I bathed this morning.”
“Please…” I whispered, momentarily closing my eyes against the vision of him naked and splayed out in a bathtub. “It will distract the other players while reminding me how breathtaking you looked spilling down my throat.”
“Oh.” Damon swallowed thickly before smiling softly—secretly—just for me. “Very well. I’ll be down shortly…”
He disappeared through a side door and I helped myself to a cigar from the bar.
Anything to look human while I wait.
“If you’ve no plans to leave him be, I’ll be forced to tell the Madam what y’are.”
Sighing, I turned to face the Irishwoman filling the parlor doorway, realizing this problem wasn’t going to take care of itself.
“And what exactly do you intend to tell the Madam, hmm? That one of her highest-paying patrons is, in fact, a supernatural creature your backwoods ancestors taught you to fear with no actual living proof?”
Semantics…
The Irishwoman shrank backwards as I quickly advanced, although she impressed me by not running in fear.
Apparently, she does know a thing or two about my kind.
We love to chase.
“I’ve a better idea. You will forget all about our conversations tonight.” I levitated just enough to loom over her taller frame. “You will forget about me, along with anything about supposed deamhans in our midst. Your Abhartach is nothing but a legend created by half-wit peasants.”
“Half-wit peasants…” Mattie groggily repeated as my compulsion settled over her like a shroud.
The instant my own words were echoed back to me, I cringed, recalling how the same was said about me and my people by the ignorant invaders of my land.
No more bodies, Max.
Not here…
“Leave me to my mate,” I snarled at the Irishwoman, touching down again as I heard Damon’s heavy boots on the service stairs. “As long as you stay out of my way—forget about us altogether—you and the rest of this house will escape with your lives. Begone.”
“Escape,” she muttered, stiffly turning and wandering away as I turned to greet Damon. “Begone.”
That’s the plan.
“I’m ready,” he called breathlessly, grinning wide, although his smile faded as he noticed Mattie’s retreat. “I do hope she wasn’t giving you more trouble…”
“No trouble at all." I smiled warmly at my mate, tamping down my guilt of omission while admiring the way the ash made his eye color appear otherworldly. “Now let’s go paint the town red.”