Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
Damien
Iknock on Luna’s door, then step back, forcing my expression into the controlled mask of daytime Damien. Friendly but not intimate, as long as you don’t count the night on her porch, the night in my penthouse, or against the door in the sanctuary.
I spot Maren through the front window. She’s wrestling with a Christmas tree, a strand of lights tangled around her arm, and what looks like a ferret on her shoulder.
I glance around at the snow-covered landscape.
Aspen Ridge received its first significant snow of the season last night, over eleven inches, and it blankets the entire sanctuary in a pristine layer of white.
The road is closed from Estes Park, so I took the helicopter up here on a whim to bring Luna and Maren lunch.
I’d been watching on the cameras as they hauled out Christmas decorations, but Luna seemed indifferent, while Maren’s cheerfulness felt forced. Not that I could blame them.
The knowledge of Luna’s miscarriage still sits in my chest like a stone. It’s a unique kind of hell, knowing her pain through one persona while being kept in the dark in another. But I can’t rush her. She’ll tell Damien when she’s ready. If she’s ready.
Maren answers the door. Her eyes travel over me, calculating, as if trying to piece together who stands in front of her.
When I went back and watched the footage from the day Luna miscarried, their discussion in her bedroom was enlightening. They both suspect I’m her wolf. I'm not surprised, but it doesn't make revealing myself to Luna any easier.
Maren’s eyes narrow, but then she catches sight of the insulated bags I’m carrying, and her face lights up. “Oh my God, is that Giacomo’s? I think you might be my actual hero.”
“Thought you two could use some comfort food. Is that a ferret with its head down your shirt?”
She looks down and pulls his small head from where it’s burrowing into her cleavage, sighing, almost as if she hadn’t noticed.
“Story of my life. Come on in.”
She walks away, and I stamp snow from my boots before stepping inside. “Christmas decorations, huh? How’s it going?”
“It’d be going better if these monsters would stop helping.” She sets the ferret down on the floor and then gestures toward Ricky, who’s rooting around under the partially decorated tree. “I swear to God, perv, if you don’t stop sabotaging that tree, there will be no boob action for you today!”
Shadow and Ghost sleep in beds on either side of the fireplace.
Neither bothers to get up and greet me. My eyes find Luna.
She’s curled on the sofa, wrapped in a thick blanket, with her calico cat on her lap and the black and white one behind her head.
The fat one is nowhere to be seen. For some reason, I can never seem to remember their names.
Luna’s chuckling as she sips tea, but her face is paler than usual, her vibrant energy dimmed.
“Hey.” I smile as I approach her. “I seem to remember you mentioning that Giacomo’s butternut squash ravioli with sage butter is one of your favorites.”
She looks up, attempting a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.” I set the bags on the coffee table, fighting the urge to brush the hair from her face, my fingers aching to touch her, to pull her into my arms and comfort her. It’s a foreign feeling for me, this need to nurture. “Are you okay? You seem a little off.”
She shrugs, placing her teacup down, and then draws the blanket closer. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
It’s a lie, of course. I know how she feels. Devastated, empty, and confused. The urge to break character, to tell her I know everything, overwhelms me.
“You don’t seem fine.” I sit beside her, leaving space between us. “Is there anything I can do?”
A crash tears my eyes from her face. The ferret darts out from under the tree, ornaments rolling in its wake.
“That’s it!” Maren throws her hands up. “These troublemakers are coming with me while I grab some plates and utensils. Come on, Ricky. You too, Frank.” She scoops up both animals, and the ferret dives straight down the front of her shirt again, while Ricky’s hand grabs for her breast. “Damn it, Lu. Can’t you find animals that don’t want to feel me up?
” She walks toward the kitchen while trying to extract the ferret.
“Admit it, it’s the most action you get when JT’s away.”
Maren’s snort echoes down the short hallway between the kitchen and the living room.
Once she’s gone, Luna’s guard drops for just a second, and pain flashes across her face before she blinks it away.
“So, the raccoon seems to be doing better?”
Her lips curve. I’ve learned that asking about her animals is the easiest way to make her smile.
“No more kidney stones. He passed all the fragments. Thanks to you. But we’ll have to keep monitoring him.
” She shifts in her seat, settling into the topic.
“Once an animal develops kidney stones, recurrence is pretty common. We’ll need to adjust his diet too.
Raccoons go crazy for nuts, but those increase the risk of stones. ”
“The care you give these animals, Luna—it’s remarkable.” My voice drops lower, softer. I have to be careful here. I don’t want her to recognize it. “You have this incredible capacity for love. You deserve to have someone give all of that back to you. And more.”
She stares out at the falling snow, fingers stroking the calico cat’s fur.
“Luna.” I keep my voice soft. “Something’s wrong. I can tell. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
“It’s nothing you need to worry about.”
“I do worry about you.” I allow more of my true feelings to show than I normally would as daytime Damien.
She turns to study my face. Now that I know her suspicions, every time she looks at me, it makes me wonder what she sees.
“I’m dealing with some health issues.”
My heart races. This is it. She’s going to tell me. “What kind of health issues? Is it serious?”
She opens her mouth, then closes it, seeming to reconsider. “I just haven’t been feeling well. It’ll pass.”
The disappointment is sharp. I nod, respecting her choice even as it tears at me. But I also appreciate that she keeps our loss to herself. “Well, I’m here. Whatever you need.”
We sit in silence, watching the snow. Through the window, I notice a pair of raccoons waddling through the powder, one chasing the other in what appears to be some sort of mating ritual.
Luna notices them too, and something shifts in her expression. “Do you know raccoons can have sex for hours?”
I choke out a laugh. I swear this woman can shock me like no one else. “Excuse me?”
Her cheeks flush pink, but she plows ahead.
“Yeah. Maren and I sat on my back porch one time and watched two of them having sex in the backyard. It was like a train wreck. We couldn’t look away.
” She seems relieved to talk about anything other than herself.
“Not all of it was intercourse. There was quite a bit of foreplay too, but it went on for at least two hours. I think Maren was jealous.”
“I totally was,” Maren calls from the kitchen.
I study Luna’s face. This is the first glimpse of the real Luna I’ve seen today—quirky, unfiltered, and unexpected. The ache of missing her settles deep in my bones. Not her body, but just her. And I can’t help myself; I let a bit of my nighttime persona slip through.
“You sound surprised a man is capable of that.” My voice drops lower. “Have you never had sex for hours, Luna? Never had someone make you come so many times you lose count? Who gets inside you and won’t stop until you’re begging? If that’s the case, you haven’t had sex with the right men.”
Her eyes widen, and for a second, I worry I’ve gone too far. Let too much of my other self show.
“Jesus, Damien.” Color floods her cheeks.
“You’re the one who brought up raccoon sex.” I hold her gaze, allowing a slow smile to spread across my lips. “And the one who seems fascinated by their stamina.”
The tension between us shifts, electric now rather than awkward. I can see the wheels turning in her mind, making connections she’s not quite ready to acknowledge. Maren returns with plates and utensils.
“Let’s plate this feast up.” She’s oblivious to or purposely ignoring the charged atmosphere. “I left the little monsters locked in the bathroom for now. They can have their freedom back after we eat.”
I help her plate up the food, grateful for the interruption.
We eat in companionable silence, with bursts of short conversation about the upcoming Christmas holidays, Maren’s grandmother’s arthritis acting up now that the snow’s arrived en masse, and the animals.
It always seems to segue back to the animals.
My gaze keeps drifting to Luna the entire time, to the subtle changes in her face.
The way her eyes light up when discussing her animals, the pain receding for those moments.
This is the Luna I’ve fallen for. The professional vet, the compassionate caretaker, and the woman who comes alive under my touch in the dark.
Maren stands when we’re done, taking our plates and releasing the “troublemakers.”
“Alright, you horny little bastards, back to terrorizing the Christmas tree. But keep your paws off my goods!”
Ricky makes a beeline for Luna, carrying a stuffed monkey, climbing onto her lap, and reaching for her breast before she redirects his hand to the toy.
I raise an eyebrow. “Distraction technique?”
“It seems to work pretty well. But we’ve got a ways to go.”
I take a deep breath. I can’t push too hard, but I can’t bear to see her suffering alone like this either.
“Luna, I know we haven’t known each other that long, but I’ve made no secret about how I feel about you.”
“I know, Damien.”
“I just want you to know if you want to talk, I’m here.”
She looks at me, and for a moment I think she sees me, all of me. An almost sad smile tugs at her lips.
“Thank you, Damien. You really are a sweet man.”
A derisive laugh wants to escape, but I swallow it down. I’m not a sweet man. I’m a man who’s deceiving her. I lie to her every day and night in both my personas, and she deserves better.
“I’m sorry I’m shit company lately.”
“I don’t think you’re shit company. Ricky obviously doesn’t either.” I nod toward the raccoon using her breasts as a pillow, his hands wrapped around his stuffed monkey, two fingers pulling at its nose. I’m pleased when she snorts.
She reaches for my hand, her fingers wrapping around mine.
“Why are you so good to me?”
Because I love you. Because the child you lost was mine. And I’m hurting too.
The words I long to say burn behind my teeth, desperate to escape. But I can’t. Not now, when she’s as fragile as spun glass. Not when she’s grieving something we both lost, but only she has to carry.
Instead, I bring her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
“Because you deserve it.”