Chapter 41
Chapter forty-one
Damien
Luna reaches for oven mitts patterned with cartoon animals and removes a lasagna from the oven, but my blood is still hot from the confrontation with her ex.
My hands ache to do more than just throw him out.
They want to crush, punish, and eliminate the threat he poses to her, but I force myself to appear calm as she moves around the kitchen, her movements still tense.
Shadow and the hybrid have retreated to the other room, comfortable with me here.
“You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.” Her voice is quieter than usual. “I’m sorry about Caleb.”
“Don’t apologize for him.” I lean against the island, the wine glass cool against my palm. Heat burns in my throat, but I take a long swallow to cool it. She should never apologize for that asshole.
Luna’s hands tremble as she carries the lasagna to the table, where I savored every inch of her skin last night. Tomato sauce and herbs fill the kitchen, but all I can think about is how she trembled beneath my tongue right there on that wooden surface.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She sighs. “No, that’s not true. I’m rattled. I haven’t seen him for over a year.”
Every muscle wants to correct her, to say it’s been one year, two months, and eleven days since she filed the restraining order against Caleb Hunter. But Damien Wolfe wouldn’t know these things.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask instead, keeping my voice gentle.
She busies herself with the food, avoiding my eyes. “No. I don’t want to spoil our dinner. Now don’t get too excited.” A self-deprecating smile tugs at her lips. “My cooking skills are subpar at best, but I can manage Italian basics.”
I can’t take my eyes off her. She dressed up for me tonight, with subtle makeup enhancing her natural beauty, and her hair loose around her shoulders like silk I want to fist in my hands.
The domestic scene stirs something dark and possessive inside me. The part of me that visits her at night burns with irrational anger. She made this dinner for Damien and prepared herself for him when she belongs to me.
But then I realize how fucking ridiculous that is. We’re the same fucking man.
“It looks perfect.” I move to the table and pull out her chair. “But you’re deflecting.”
“It’s not exactly first date conversation material.”
“Is that what this is?” I let a smile touch my lips, testing the waters. “A date?”
Pink spreads across her cheekbones as she tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “I guess that depends on how the lasagna turns out.”
I take the seat beside her, close enough that our knees almost touch. Near enough to smell that sweet scent that drives me wild every night.
“I take it you weren’t expecting your ex to show up tonight?”
“You don’t give up easily, do you?”
“Not when it matters. And your safety matters.”
Luna takes a breath. “Caleb and I met three years ago at a wildlife conservation fundraiser. He seemed perfect at first. Passionate about environmental causes, charming, attentive.” She picks up her fork but doesn’t eat.
“We dated for a little over two years before he started to change. The pressure of making partner consumed him. He was working long hours, but it didn’t bother me because I was so busy here.
He started to resent the time it took away from him.
He wanted my attention on his terms. I also think he developed a drug problem, though I’m not entirely sure. ”
My jaw locks. I know the kind of monster that hides behind Caleb Hunter’s cocaine-sniffing, polished exterior.
“The violence didn’t start until about six months before we broke up.” Her voice drops, eyes fixed on her plate. “Just grabbing my arm too hard at first. Then a shove during an argument. He was always so sorry afterward, swore it would never happen again.”
“Until it did.”
She nods. “The night I ended it, he lost control. Said if I left him, he’d make sure I had nothing left.
Threatened the sanctuary, my animals.” Her voice hardens with the steel I recognize and admire.
“That’s the night he broke my ribs, and I knew I had to get out, no matter what.
I filed for a restraining order the next day. ”
I take a careful sip of wine, using the moment to control the fury simmering in my chest. The beast inside me wants to howl, wants to hunt him down tonight and tear his throat out. “And today? What did he want?”
“He claims he’s changed. In therapy. Found God.” Bitterness colors her laugh. “Said he wanted to apologize in person.”
“And you believe him?”
“No. People like Caleb don’t change. They just find new masks to wear.”
I nod. She sees through his performance, the monster beneath his facade.
So why doesn’t she see mine?
Maybe she does. But why does she accept him?
“How did you know the details in my restraining order? The hospital visit?”
Fuck!
I freeze, cursing my earlier slip, revealing too much of what I know about her life.
“Restraining orders are public record and your ex has a history of violent behavior. It was relevant to your security needs.”
“So you did a background check on me?” There’s curiosity in her voice, not accusation. Yet. But I catch the subtle shift in her posture, the way her shoulders pull back like she’s bracing for something.
“Standard procedure for anyone who purchases our systems.”
“That sounds a little invasive.” She tilts her head. “I remember seeing something in the fine print on the contract I signed, but is that even legal?”
Luna Foster is too damn smart for her own good. It’s one of the qualities that make her both impressive and dangerous to underestimate.
“It’s not a formal background check. But we verify whether a customer has a criminal history to make sure the system won’t be used for anything illegal.” I pause, letting my mouth curve. “You don’t, by the way. Have a criminal background.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but she lets it slide. “Well, I appreciate you showing up when you did tonight. Caleb can be unpredictable when he’s angry.”
His grip on her wrist burns fresh in my memory, and I force myself to uncoil the tension in my shoulders. “He won’t bother you again.”
“You sound very certain of that.”
“I am.”
It’s not a promise; it’s a guarantee. Caleb Hunter just moved to the top of my kill list.
“Well, thank you again for throwing him out.”
“I’d do far more than that to protect you.” The words slip out before I can censor them, too much truth bleeding through.
Her eyes shift, and her brows draw together. “You barely know me, Damien.”
She has no idea how untrue that statement is.
“I’m a good judge of character. And you’re worth protecting.”
I steer us toward safer ground as we begin to eat. The lasagna is quite good, though I barely taste it, still consumed with thoughts of her ex and the many ways I could make him disappear.
Luna relaxes as we talk, tension melting from her shoulders.
She lights up, gesturing with her hands, passion burning bright in her voice, when she describes treating a lynx last week.
It wasn’t a case of abuse but a bold rescue of a cat that was returned to the wild the next day.
She’s breathtaking when she’s animated like this.
“You’re good at this.”
She glances up from her plate, confusion creasing her forehead. “At what? Eating lasagna?” Her mouth twitches at one corner. “I mean, I’m decent with a fork, but I wouldn’t call it a talent.”
I laugh, easy and natural. She has this way of deflecting compliments with humor that makes me drop my guard. She’s the only one who can do that.
I narrow my eyes at her in mock disapproval. “I meant your passion for healing. Your eyes light up when you talk about your work.”
Her lips curve into that soft smile that makes my chest ache. “It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do. Even as a kid, I was always bringing home injured birds, foxes, squirrels, and stray cats. Drove first my parents and then my grandfather crazy.”
“Tell me about him.” I refill her wine glass, though I already know everything about Theodore Foster from Cade’s report.
I’ve done a deep dive into her family history, seen satellite images of the bridge collapse that killed her parents, read her grandfather’s obituary, and know exactly what he left her in his will.
But I want to hear it from her lips, want to understand the forces that shaped the woman next to me.
Her expression turns wistful. “He was a wild soul. Spent most of his life traveling the world photographing endangered species. This property had been in my family since the Colorado gold rush. It was supposed to be his retirement place. When my parents died, he settled here to raise me, but he never lost that wanderlust.” She smiles at some private memory.
“He taught me that every creature deserves compassion, even the ones that seem dangerous or beyond saving.”
“He sounds like an extraordinary man.”
“He was. When he died during my second year of residency, I felt like I’d lost everything again. But he left me the property, and I knew exactly what I wanted to do with it.”
“Is that why you do this? Take in the lost causes?”
“They’re not lost causes. Just misunderstood. Most wild animals act from fear or pain, or they’re protecting their territory.” Her hazel eyes fix on mine with unexpected intensity. “People aren’t so different.”
The observation hits a little too close to home. Does she see through me? Has she connected the pieces?
“Some predators are made, not born.”
I watch her reaction.
She considers this, twirling her wine glass. “Yes. Some of them have reasons, even the most vicious ones, for what they do. Understanding those reasons doesn’t excuse the behavior, but it helps explain it.”
“What about those who hunt other predators?” I’m walking into dangerous territory, but I can’t help myself. “Where do they fit into your worldview?”
Luna’s gaze sharpens. “You mean like vigilantes?”
“For example.”