Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
Luna
Idrag the brush through Cotton’s mane in long, steady strokes, finding comfort in the repetitive motion. This mindless routine is what I need right now. The familiar scent of hay and horse fills my nostrils, grounding me when everything else feels like it’s floating away.
“Almost done with you, boy.” I run my palm along his flank. He responds with a low whinny.
The barn door creaks open, letting in a gust of cold air and the sound of boots on straw.
I don’t need to turn around to know it’s Damien.
He changes the air when he enters a space.
Thickens it, electrifies it, and makes it press against my skin.
My pulse stumbles even though my thoughts are scattered elsewhere.
He’s been coming to visit almost every day for the last week and a half. Just stopping by to say hi, bringing lunch, or bringing Athena to play with Shadow and Ghost. He doesn’t stay long, and though it’s a little strange, it’s been nice.
“Maren told me where you were. I hope that’s okay.” His deep voice echoes in the wooden structure. “Thought you might need something warm.”
I turn to see him carrying a steaming mug, snowflakes melting on the shoulders of his expensive coat. It’s almost comical, this polished billionaire standing in my humble barn, looking like he just stepped off a magazine cover. But that’s Damien.
“Thanks.” I accept the hot chocolate. Our fingers brush, and that familiar spark, the one I’ve been trying to ignore, rushes beneath my skin. The warmth spreads through my palms as I wrap both hands around the mug.
“Don’t you ever work?”
“That’s what I pay Cade for. I hardly ever go to my Denver office anymore. I prefer to work out of my office up here.”
“You’re spoiling me with all this attention. Bringing me lunch from Giacomo’s, just stopping by to bring me hot chocolate. I might get used to this. What’s next? Mucking stalls?”
He chuckles, and the sound sends a pleasant shiver down my spine. “I draw the line at manure. Though for you…” He shrugs, leaving the sentence hanging with that hint of a smile that makes my stomach flutter.
He moves closer. “So, you seem better than you were last week.”
“Yeah, I’m getting back to myself.”
The words come easier now, less like a lie I’m telling myself.
Healing happens in increments too small to measure day by day but visible when you step back and look at the whole picture.
The crushing weight that settled on my chest after the miscarriage has lifted enough that I can breathe without conscious effort.
Maren has been my anchor through all of it, choosing to stay up here instead of going home to her apartment, claiming the mountain roads are too treacherous for her daily commute. We both know the weather is just her excuse. She’s here because she refuses to let me navigate this alone.
Still, Maren’s protective presence doesn’t stop my wolf from coming to me.
He waits until she’s in bed, until the last light disappears from under her door.
I rarely see him anymore. Sleep takes me before he arrives, exhaustion winning over the part of me that wants to stay awake and wait for him.
But when I wake in the morning, there’s always a red dahlia bloom on the pillow next to my head.
I never told him it’s my favorite flower, but somehow he knows.
I take a sip of hot chocolate, the liquid rich and sweet. Of course, Damien would remember how I like it, another small detail that makes my chest tighten.
He grins. “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”
That smile. It’s dangerous.
“So, Christmas is right around the corner. Two weeks of holiday cheer bearing down on us.”
“I actually love this time of year. Not because of the holidays, but just because of how everything feels cleaner somehow when it’s covered in snow. The mountains look different. More peaceful.”
His smile is indulgent. “You’re one of the few people I know who gets excited about winter in the mountains. Most people complain about the cold and flee to warmer climates.”
“They’re missing out. There’s something magical about snow falling on the peaks.” I glance toward the barn door, where I can see snowflakes drifting past. “It makes everything quiet. Muffled.”
“Like the world’s paused. Waiting for something.”
I look at him, surprise flickering through me.
“That’s exactly it.”
His expression softens, the sharp edges of his usual composure melting away, and my heart skips a beat.
“You’re different, Luna. You see beauty where others see inconvenience. I love that about you.”
Love?
I’m unsure how to respond to his words, spoken with the casual, friendly tone people often use. But the intense look in his eyes makes me swallow, a nervous flutter vibrating in my stomach, so I take a sip of my hot chocolate.
His presence today offers a kind of comfort I’m not prepared for.
He moves before I realize what’s coming. His hand lifts, and his fingers brush against my temple as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers linger against my cheek, and he leans down, his intention clear in his eyes.
“Damien.”
I press my hand against his chest and step back, his warmth seeping through his sweater into my palm.
He stops, straightening to his full height. The confusion that flashes across his features morphs into hurt, restrained but impossible to miss.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t.” My words disappear under the sound of horses shifting in their stalls.
“Can’t what? Kiss me?” His voice stays level, but there’s an edge underneath. “We’ve kissed before, Luna.”
“I know, it’s just…” I set the mug down on a ledge. My hands shake. “It’s complicated.”
He crosses his arms, and his jaw tightens. “What’s so complicated about two adults who are attracted to each other?”
“I’m not being fair to you.” My throat closes around the words. “I haven’t been honest.”
Damien goes still, like predators do right before they strike.
“What do you mean?”
I’m about to shatter whatever we’ve been building between us, but I have to be honest.
“I’ve been seeing someone else.”
The silence fills every corner of the barn. Damien’s face goes blank—neutral in a way that’s worse than if he’d gotten angry.
“Seeing someone else.” He repeats slowly.
“Yes.”
“While we’ve been…” He gestures between us, and the muscle in his jaw ticks. “While we’ve been whatever this is?”
“Yes.”
I force myself to meet his eyes, but he looks away, staring at something beyond my shoulder. When he looks back, there’s a storm brewing in those blue-gray depths.
“How long?”
“A few months. It’s… It’s complicated.” I hate how inadequate the word sounds. “It started before you and I began this.”
“But it continued.” It’s not a question.
“Yes.”
He’s quiet, and I watch him process this information. There’s a look in his eyes I can’t quite identify, but it resembles resignation, as if some part of him expected this.
“Is it serious?”
The question catches me off guard. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, are you in love with him?”
I open my mouth to deny it. The words stick in my throat. My hesitation answers for me.
“I see.” There’s no anger in his voice, just a deep sadness that wraps around my throat and squeezes.
I pick up my mug again. “I don’t understand it myself.”
“What don’t you understand?”
The question is gentle and curious rather than accusatory.
“What we have is different from anything I’ve ever experienced. He’s different.”
“Different how?”
I struggle to find words for something I can’t comprehend myself. “He makes me feel claimed. Like I belong to him completely.” I blush at the admission. “I know how that sounds.”
“It sounds honest. Tell me more about him.”
The request surprises me. “Why?”
“Because I’m trying to understand. Help me understand what I’m competing with.”
The vulnerability threading through his request pulls at a tender place buried inside me, and it compels me to be honest. “It’s not a conventional relationship. He comes to me only at night.”
His face shifts, an emotion crossing his features too fast for me to catch. I look down at my hands wrapped around the warm mug.
“I know how it sounds. Like some kind of fantasy. But it’s real. He’s real.”
“I believe you. What does he give you that I can’t?”
My gaze lifts. His face holds no judgment, only questions he wants answered. He's asking me to bare something private, something I've never put into words.
“Freedom. He takes all the control away from me, and somehow that feels like freedom. With him, I don’t have to think or make decisions or worry about anything except feeling. He makes those choices for me.”
Damien nods. “And that’s what you want? To be controlled?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I rake a hand through my hair with a sigh.
“Not in every part of my life. Just in the bedroom. And I never thought I’d like something like that, but with him it’s different.
It’s not about being weak or submissive.
It’s about trust. About letting someone else carry the weight for a while. ”
“And you trust him? This man who comes to you at night?”
“Completely.”
There’s no hesitation in my voice, and Damien’s expression shifts. The lines around his eyes and mouth soften.
“But you can’t have a life with him.”
“No. He’s not available for that.”
“Why not?”
“He can’t be part of my daylight world. What we have exists in shadows.”
Damien studies my face. “That must be lonely.”
The observation cracks me open. A fissure splits through my chest because he’s right. “Yes. Sometimes it is.”
“And yet you continue seeing him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because when I’m with him, I feel more alive, more myself, than I ever have before. Even if it’s only in the dark. Even if it can’t last.”
“And what about us, Luna? What do I make you feel?”
The question, though quiet, is loaded with meaning. I look at him, taking in the sharp angles of his face, the intensity in his blue-gray eyes, and the way he holds himself with that carefully controlled power.
“Like I could build something real with you.”
“But?”
“But I can’t give you all of me when part of me belongs to someone else.”
“Even if that someone else can never give you everything you need?”
“Even then.”
He nods. “Who is he, Luna? Really?”
“I don’t know.”
The admission costs me. It sounds pathetic coming from a woman like me.
“Sometimes I think I do, but it's foolish.” I tilt my head and study him. When I look at him like this in the daylight, in all his polish, I only see Damien. “Sometimes I think I’m falling in love with someone who doesn’t fully exist outside of my bedroom.”
“But you don’t think that’s what this is?”
“No. What I feel for him is real. What he makes me feel is real. Even if I can’t have all of him.”
Damien’s hand rises to cup my cheek. His thumb traces the path of moisture I hadn’t noticed escaping. The touch is so gentle, my chest aches.
“And how do you feel about me?”
The question comes out steady, but there’s a fragility lurking beneath the surface, like he’s bracing for a blow that might shatter him.
“I care about you. More than I should. More than is fair to either of you.”
“But you can’t choose.”
“I don’t know how to choose. What I feel for each of you—it’s so different. It’s like choosing between breathing and having a heartbeat. I need both to survive.”
A dozen emotions flicker across his face. Pain, understanding, frustration. Then his expression settles into determination, hard and unwavering.
“I have feelings for you too, Luna. Deep feelings. They’ve been growing stronger every day.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I really am.”
“I won’t ask you to choose right now.” More tears well in the corner of my eyes. “But I can’t do this indefinitely. And I won’t be anyone’s second choice.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?” He cups my face in both hands now, his touch like a balm. And so familiar it makes my breath hitch. “Because I need you to know that what I’m offering you is real. A real relationship. A real future. Not just stolen moments in the dark.”
“I know that too.”
“Then figure out what you want. What you really want, Luna. Not just what feels good in the moment, but what you need to be happy.”
“And if I can’t choose? If I can’t choose between you?”
“Then maybe you don’t have to. I should go. Give you time to think.”
“Damien—”
He steps back, dropping his hands to his sides, before I can ask what he means.
“It’s okay, Luna. I’m not angry. I’m hurt, yes, but I understand. You can’t help who you love.” He pauses at the barn door, snowflakes catching in his dark hair. “But don’t take too long to decide. Some opportunities don’t come twice.”
I step forward. “Damien, what does that mean?”
Pain fills his eyes. The look of someone who’s offered everything and watched it get rejected and torn apart. And there’s knowledge in his gaze, knowledge that shouldn’t be there, and my stomach plummets.
“Sometimes the choices you’re afraid to make aren’t choices at all.”
Damien vanishes into the white curtain of swirling snow, leaving me alone with Cotton and his final words repeating in my head.
The conversation went nothing like I expected.
I was prepared for anger, for ultimatums, for the explosion that comes when hearts collide.
Instead, he gave me understanding I don’t deserve.
But his final words sit heavy in my chest. A promise or threat wrapped in riddles that I’m terrified to solve.