Chapter 31
Chapter thirty-one
Damien
My knees threaten to buckle as I unleash the last tremors of my release deep inside Luna. Her limbs tremble, hips convulsing as the final echoes of her own climax slip away.
I peel my teeth from the hollow of her neck, astonished there’s no broken skin, already picturing the throbbing bruise that’ll bloom by morning, joining the fingerprint marks.
She unwraps her legs from my waist and balances on shaky calves. I step back, the thunderous storm beyond the glass mirroring the tempest I’ve just stilled within me.
I should apologize, but I’m not that man. Vulnerability is poison to me, yet a part of me wants to expose my raw self to her. The urge unsettles me.
Instead, I slip a finger through the zip-tie and snap it open.
I gather her wrists in front of me and examine the angry red marks that mar her skin.
My fingers ghost over each emerging welt, an unspoken concession, the closest I can come to an apology.
The little flare of surprise in her eyes tells me she understands.
Why the fuck did I ask her to dinner? The invitation spilled out before I could cage it. The plan was always simple. Keep Luna as my dark obsession, confined to stolen nights where I can take what I need from her body without the complications of daylight civilities.
But today, standing in front of her as Damien—no mask to hide behind, no terror widening her eyes—the careful separation I’d maintained cracked.
She smiled at me. A genuine smile, warm and unguarded.
I wanted her to look at me like that while knowing who I really am, and the desire felt foreign and uncomfortable
I don’t want this. Don’t trust it.
I adjust the mask.
Two faces of the same man. Damien Wolfe, who plays at being civilized, and the masked killer who embraces what lurks beneath his skin. She has no idea they’re the same person, and that lie feeds my control over her. Or it did until I opened my mouth and asked her to dinner like some lovesick fool.
The thought of her with him, with the mask I wear in public, wakes something savage inside me. Would she want that version of me more than the one who claims her in the dark?
She was breathtaking tonight. I didn’t expect her just to agree to my demands. Even though the fear was pouring off her as thick as the rain outside, the fire in her when she defied me was a sight to behold.
That is what makes her different. She doesn’t roll over. She fights first. Makes me work for her submission.
Makes it worth taking.
She walks around me, bending to pick up her discarded panties from the floor, scrunching them in her hand.
“What did you do with Shadow?”
“I locked him in the bedroom with the cats.”
She nods and lifts the laundry basket from the floor. Without another word, she walks past me and up the stairs. A magnetic force I can’t resist pulls me after her.
Shadow rushes through when she opens the door, weaving around her, sniffing, a low growl rumbling through his body as his gaze locks onto me.
“It’s okay, baby. I’m alright,” she assures him, stepping into the room and setting the basket on the bed. Shadow watches me, his hackles raised and teeth bared, before he lets out a huff and turns to follow Luna into the room.
I lean against the doorframe as she puts the clean laundry away. Shadow sticks close, trailing her every move from the bed to the dresser, the closet, and then back again.
She pulls the torn nightgown off, throws on a large Colorado Rockies t-shirt, and acts like I’m not even in the room.
“Luna.”
Her eyes snap to mine, narrowing to slits, before her lips press into a thin line.
“You really are an asshole, you know.” Though steady, the subtle tremor in her voice hints at the hurt she’s trying to hide. “You didn’t need to do that. You could have asked me about Damien like a normal person. But then again, you’re not normal. You’re a serial killer.”
“And you’re mine.”
She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I’m not anyone’s. Especially not some masked freak who—”
She stops talking as I approach. Her muscles go rigid, her shoulders pulling back, and her weight shifting to the balls of her feet. Every line of her body screams flight. Shadow wedges himself between us, and her hand drops to his head, fingers curling into his fur.
“You hurt me.” Her voice wavers. “And not just physically.”
The tremor in those words hits me in the chest. I’ve heard pain before—screams, pleas, and broken sobs.
None of it has touched me in decades. But hers hollows something out inside my ribs, makes me want to tear off this damn mask and tell her everything.
Confess that I’m Damien, that I can’t stay away from her, and why her saying yes to his invitation felt like swallowing broken glass.
Jesus, what the fuck is this woman doing to me?
“You had no right to treat me that way.”
“I was fucking angry at you.”
“That’s no excuse.” Her hand tightens in Shadow’s fur.
“I’ve had one abusive man in my life. I don’t need another.
” The comparison cuts deep, drawing blood I didn’t know I could still bleed.
“And why? Because I agreed to have dinner with an acquaintance? It’s dinner.
It’s not like I plan to fuck him, though I have every right to, if I want to. ”
Possessive rage rips through my chest, clawing up my throat until my vision tunnels, the edges going red.
“I will kill any other man who touches you, Luna.” Each word is a vow. “Believe that.”
“Leave Damien alone!”
Her face twists with anger, fear, and something protective that makes her voice shake as she shouts.
I press my mouth into a hard line, suppressing the smile that wants to emerge. She’s defending him. Me. The contradiction shouldn’t please me, but it does.
“Then cancel your dinner. Because if you think I’m going to stand by and let another man touch you, you haven’t been listening to me.”
“I can’t—“ She drags both hands through her hair, and grips the back of her neck.
“Have this conversation tonight. Just leave Damien Wolfe alone.” She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes.
When they drop, the worry remains, carved into the space between her brows.
“Everything aches, and I want you to leave.”
“No.”
I won’t be dismissed.
The urge to reach for her battles with the fear of what she’ll see in my touch. Tonight I was a storm, but even storms have eyes, calm centers they protect. She needs to know that no matter how angry I was, my intent was never to truly hurt her. But my tongue feels heavy and useless.
“Fine. Do what you want, but I’m going to bed. Do me a favor, reset the alarm on your way out.”
She sets the laundry basket beside the door and turns to walk toward the bathroom. My hand shoots out, my fingers wrapping around her wrist. She jerks toward me, off-balance, and I catch her and walk her backward until her legs hit the mattress.
“What are you doing?”
“Get on the bed, Luna.”
“You’re not fucking me again.”
“Don’t test me, Luna. Get on the bed and lie on your stomach.”
“No.” She plants her feet, twisting her arm as she tries to wrench free. My grip tightens.
“Just lay the fuck down.” I force the words out, restraining myself. “Keep pushing me, and tonight will end with my cock in your ass again.”
Every muscle in her body locks. Her pulse hammers against my fingertips, rabbit-fast and frantic. It hurt at first when I fucked her ass last night, and I know she can’t take me again any time soon, but that doesn’t mean I won’t hold it over her head like a threat.
She stops fighting, and I lift my free hand, tracing the curve of her cheekbone. “I’m not going to fuck you again. Not tonight.”
Her eyes dart across what little she can see of my face, reading the shadows. Then, she nods.
I release her wrist and shoo the cats and Shadow out, easing the door closed behind me.
This time, when I touch her, my hands are gentler but still demanding. I coax her to her knees at the edge of the mattress and strip away her shirt, my palms skating over skin that bears the marks of my previous rough treatment.
When I turn her, easing her onto her stomach, she tenses.
“Relax.”
I start at her shoulders, tracing the smooth line of her spine with my fingertips. My touch is firm but reverent as I map the landscape of her back, lingering on the slight dip at her waist and the gentle curve of her hips.
Her skin is soft beneath my hands. I lower my head and drag my lips across her shoulder blade. A tremor rolls through her when my exhale warms the side of her neck.
She releases a trembling breath. “What are you doing?”
“Feeling you.”
I work my way down her body, using slow, firm strokes. She shudders, then sinks into the mattress with a soft sound. The tension drains from her muscles as my palms knead her lower back, thumbs digging into the knots buried there.
I’ve never touched a woman this reverently before. Never saw the point. But Luna makes me want to learn the shape of her bones, the give of her flesh, and the places where tension lives.
I massage down one leg and back up the other until her breathing evens out. By the time I reach her ass again, her body has gone slack, breath coming in gentle sighs.
She fell asleep with me still here, still touching her. The tightness in my chest loosens.
My fingers drift to the space between her thighs, finding her still slick with what I left behind. I trace the softness there, stroke the swollen folds, and circle the sensitive bundle of nerves without ever quite touching it.
Her breath stutters, and when I look up, she’s watching me over her shoulder.
“I know I said I wouldn’t fuck you again.” I lean down, my mouth brushing her shoulder. “But can you give me one more?”
I ask, but we both know the answer doesn’t matter. I’m taking it either way. But her answer surprises me.
“Yes.” She pushes back against my fingers. “Don’t stop.”
I tease her until she’s writhing, rolling her hips, until my control snaps.
Then I’m pushing inside her, filling her in one thrust. We both groan as her body grips me, slick heat that makes my eyes roll back.
The gentle touch from moments before burns away.
I drive into her, each thrust rocking the bed frame against the wall.
She pushes back to meet me, spine arching deep, the sounds coming from her shattered and incoherent.
Time stops meaning anything. It could be seconds, minutes—I can’t tell anymore. Then my release tears through me, and I’m emptying into her, her body pulsing around me, pulling everything from me until there’s nothing left.
“That’s it, beautiful. You were made for my cock.”
She flinches when I pull out, but her mouth stays closed, neither confirming nor denying what we both know is true.
I move toward the door. “Cancel dinner with Damien Wolfe. I won’t tell you again.”
“You don’t tell me what to do.”
That spark still burns in her voice, and my mouth almost curves into a smile. After everything tonight, she still thinks she gets to choose.
I open the door and turn back to her. “You have two choices here, Luna. You can accept this, or you can fight it. But make no mistake, you’re mine. That doesn’t change because you want it to.”
She pulls the sheet up to her chin and rolls toward the wall, giving me her back.
“I’ll be back tomorrow night. And the night after. And the night after. If you don’t want that, call the sheriff. Tell her what I’ve done to both you and the others.”
It’s a risk, but one I’m willing to take because if she doesn’t, when she doesn’t, I’ll have my answer.
“But know this, I’ve been meting out justice to monsters for twenty-five years. Some small-town sheriff won’t be the one to stop me.”