Chapter 39 #2
“Got it in one. But we can still be friends, right?” She winks, and I hide my smile in my drink. This is Maren’s favorite part. Flirting shamelessly while staying completely faithful to JT.
“Friends, it is.” Brian clinks his glass against hers. “So tell me, what’s the weirdest animal you’ve ever treated?”
The conversation flows after that. I laugh more freely than I have in months, as alcohol and easy company lift the weight of the sanctuary’s constant demands and my moral dilemmas.
Mark keeps the conversation engaging without being pushy, occasionally letting his hand rest near mine on the bar.
Close enough to suggest interest, but not so close as to be presumptuous.
Each moment of proximity sends conflicting signals through my body, a flattering warmth at his attention colliding with an almost guilty thrill at the thought of my wolf’s reaction.
But then I feel it, a prickling sensation that starts at the back of my neck. That feeling of being watched that I’m so familiar with now. I glance around, scanning the crowded bar, and freeze.
Damien stands at the far end of the bar, dark eyes locked on me. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t acknowledge me with a smile or a nod. But his expression shifts, subtle and dangerous. The change reaches across the space between us and wraps around my throat.
Familiar butterflies take flight in my stomach. He’s devastating in dark jeans, a blue button-down, and a black pea coat hanging loose on his shoulders. Like he didn’t try. Like he never has to.
The crowd between us might as well not exist. Every sound around me—the music, the laughter, the clink of glasses—fades to white noise. I grip the polished wood as a force tugs at my ribs, urging me toward him. Then he moves. Pushes off from the bar and walks toward us.
“Well, well.” Maren’s eyes follow my gaze. “Speak of the sexy beast.”
There’s something predatory in the way he moves through the crowd, his dark eyes never leaving mine. It stirs memories of another predator I know too well. I shove the thought down, bury it deep.
“Luna.” A smile spreads warm across his face, but his eyes burn. “What a lovely surprise.”
My pulse hammers in my ears. I keep my voice even through sheer force of will. “Damien. I’d never have pegged you as the country bar type any more than the Elk Fest type.”
“I’m full of surprises.” His gaze slides past me to Mark and Brian. The air shifts. He steps closer, not aggressive, but deliberate, claiming space that wasn’t his a moment ago. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
Mark’s posture changes. His eyes trace Damien’s expensive coat, the confident set of his jaw, and the way he speaks like someone who’s never been told no. Understanding flickers across Mark’s face.
“Actually, we were just heading out.” Mark’s frown deepens. “Nice meeting you, Luna. Maren.”
Brian nods, and both men melt back into the crowd, taking the hint. I should feel sorry for them, but my body has other ideas as I stand here watching Damien, watching what he just did with nothing more than his presence. Heat blooms between my thighs.
“Friends of yours?” A possessive edge sharpens the question.
“Just some guys we met tonight.” Maren answers before I do. “They were buying us drinks and being appropriately charming.” She clears her throat. “I think I need to visit the ladies’ room. All that tequila is catching up with me.” Her nudge is far from subtle. “You two play nice while I’m gone.”
She saunters away, leaving Damien and me alone at the bar. The silence stretches between us, charged with an energy that gives me goosebumps. I take a sip of my water, trying to calm the nervous flutter in my chest.
Damien signals the bartender and orders a whiskey. “So… how are you? It looks like you’re recovering well from your bear encounter.”
Word of what happened spread through Aspen Ridge. Eleanor mentioned it to Damien, and he texted to check on me. The memory of those texts still warms me—his genuine concern had been touching.
“Good as new.” I move my shoulder to emphasize the point, immediately regretting it. Though healed and stitch-free, the area is still sore and stiff, especially after last night. “So is Huck. We released him last week.”
“Huck?”
“That’s what we named him. Bears love huckleberries, and it was his favorite snack.”
“Do you always name animals you don’t keep?”
“Yes. Everyone deserves a name. Even if it’s just for a little while.”
“You look beautiful tonight.”
His stare holds me captive. I swallow against the tightness in my throat. “Thank you. It’s a nice break from the constant wolf fur and antiseptic that I’m usually wearing.”
“You’re always beautiful, Luna.” His eyes move over me, taking their time. “Especially covered in wolf.”
No deception shadows his face. There’s nothing but sincerity, but the words drip with double meaning. The way his voice drops on “wolf” sends heat crawling up my spine.
“Luna, I wanted to apologize for what happened at Elk Fest.” He shifts closer. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. I don’t regret stopping Pearson, especially after he threatened you, but I could’ve handled it better.”
“It’s okay. He was a jerk who got what was coming to him.”
The words are out before I realize what I’ve said, voicing my secret thoughts.
Damien’s eyes flash, surprise flickering in them first, then satisfaction, dark and pleased, like he’s just won something.
“Did Sheriff Mills talk to you about what happened that day?”
I’ve been wondering about it ever since Karen’s visit.
His face changes, the muscles around his eyes tightening. “Yes. She came by after they found his body. Makes sense, I suppose. I was the last one to have a public altercation with him.” His lips curve. “I suspect she thought I had something to do with his untimely demise.”
He sounds like he’s telling a joke only he understands.
“I told her it was ridiculous.”
He lifts his whiskey and takes a slow sip. “I appreciate your defending my character.”
“Well, the idea of you being a killer is ludicrous.”
“Yes.” He swirls the amber liquid in his glass. “The method of death sounds identical to the victims discovered on your property. It appears there’s a serial killer on the loose in Aspen Ridge again.” He pauses, letting the words hang between us. “What are the odds of that?”
That private amusement creeps back into his voice, like he’s savoring a punchline I’m not getting.
I grab my water and drink, the cold shocking my system. “At least he’s not killing innocents like Jeremiah Morrison.”
My hand freezes halfway to setting the glass down. Did I just say that? Out loud?
Damien’s gaze locks onto mine. The intensity there makes me want to look away.
“The sheriff seemed satisfied after we talked. I think she realized pretty quickly that a serial killer and the head of a Fortune 500 company aren’t exactly the same demographic.”
The tension in my shoulders eases. But Jeremiah Morrison’s family was wealthy, one of the wealthiest in the county at the time. That’s one reason he got away with killing those girls for as long as he did. I press my lips together and keep that thought to myself.
“No, I suppose they don’t.”
“Besides…” He takes another sip of his whiskey. “Why would I need to kill anyone when I have so many other ways to deal with problems?”
The way he says the words sends a chill through me, though I tell myself I’m reading too much into them. Damien is rich and powerful. Of course, he has resources most people don’t. That doesn’t make him dangerous. Not like my wolf.
“Anyway.” Damien’s voice shifts, losing its edge. “Before Pearson interrupted us that day, I was going to ask you to dinner again, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be interested in rescheduling.”
“I would have.” The admission slips out before I can second-guess it.
His guarded intensity dissolves. His whole face transforms, and he smiles like I’ve just given him a gift he didn’t think he’d receive. “Good. Are you free tomorrow night?”
My heart pounds as the words hang between us. I think of my wolf. He seethed when I agreed to that first dinner with Damien. What will he do if I say yes now? Over a month later?
An internal battle rages in my chest. But something else stirs too. A tiny spark of rebellion. Why shouldn’t I have dinner with a handsome man who’s interested in me? I’m a grown woman. I make my own choices. My wolf doesn’t own me, no matter what he whispers against my skin every night.
“Actually,” I say before I can overthink it. “Would you like to come to dinner instead? We have a family of foxes in the recovery den that needs monitoring. Ethan was nice enough to stay tonight so Maren and I could have a girl’s night, but if you want to come over, I could cook.”
“I’d like that very much. What time should I be there?”
“Seven?”
“Perfect. I’ll bring wine.”
We’re interrupted by the sound of loud laughter from across the room, and I look over to see Maren at a small table with Mark and Brian, three shot glasses in front of them.
“I should probably go stop that before it gets out of hand.”
Maren’s going to hate herself in the morning when her hangover rears its ugly head.
“I’ll drive the two of you home.”
“That’s sweet of you, but we can take an Uber.” I wave the bartender over.
“Luna, it’s late, and you’ve been drinking. Let me drive you.”
His tone rubs me the wrong way. An assumption of authority that reminds me too much of someone else.
“I appreciate the offer, Damien, but we’ll be fine.”
“I insist.” He hands his black AMEX to the bartender, telling him he’s paying our tab too.
“Thank you, but I insist we can handle ourselves.” I stand up to face him.
For a brief, alcohol-fueled moment, I wonder if he and my wolf could be the same person.
The commanding presence, the possessive streak, the way both men seem to think they have a right to make decisions for me.
But that’s ridiculous. The alcohol is turning coincidence into conspiracy.