Chapter 41
Chapter forty-one
Luna
Isteady myself against the tiled wall as steam swirls around us, the hot water finally running cool. Damien’s hands linger on my hips, his thumbs tracing lazy circles, promises I won’t let him deliver. Not now. Not when my stomach is literally eating itself from the inside out.
“Luna. We’re already in here. It’s the perfect place to get dirty.”
I press my palm flat against his chest. “No.”
“No?”
His lower lip juts out in an exaggerated pout that I never imagined I’d see on the man in front of me.
“I’m so weak from hunger, I’m going to pass out if you don’t get me some food.” I duck under his arm and reach for my towel. The cool air hits my wet skin, sending a shiver rippling through me. “I’m serious, Damien.”
He crowds into my space as I wrap the towel around my body, his mouth ghosting over the pulse in my neck, and my heartbeat stutters and jumps against his lips.
“How about I take you to lunch at Nancy’s?”
The offer tempts me more than it should. But reality crashes back in. The one that exists beyond this bathroom, beyond his bed, beyond the bubble we’ve constructed around ourselves for the last twenty hours. Where the outside world and all its complications don’t exist.
“I can’t.” I turn to face him, water droplets racing down his chest in paths I want to follow with my tongue. The sculpted planes of his stomach, the sharp cut of muscle at his hips—everything about him is designed to make me forget my responsibilities.
Focus, Luna.
“I need to get to the sanctuary. Maren’s there alone. None of the volunteers are coming in today.”
His jaw tightens, the muscle jumping in a way I’ve learned is a sign he’s trying not to argue.
“You have to eat.”
“I know.” I step past him into his bedroom, his gaze tracking my movements. The weight of his attention is almost physical, sliding over my skin in heated waves. “Come with me. I’ll make grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for all of us.”
“What are you, twelve?”
I turn a sharp gaze on him, ready to defend my food choices, but his teasing smirk melts my irritation.
“You can stay here and find something to eat on your own, if you prefer.”
“Fine.” The word comes out clipped, edged with frustration. His fingers find the edge of my towel, tugging. “But first—”
I slap his hand away. “Stop it.”
He grins, shameless, and tries again. I catch his wrist this time, laughing because this playful back-and-forth is new.
“You’re impossible.”
He dips his head to kiss my shoulder, and my traitorous body leans into the touch before my brain catches up and reminds me we have places to be.
“Damien.” I step away, putting distance between us before I give in. “I need clothes.”
I came over yesterday afternoon for a conversation I was sure would end in tears and recriminations.
Some final, terrible closure that would let me move on with my life.
I hadn’t anticipated the revelation that shattered and rebuilt everything I thought I knew about him.
Staying the night wasn’t even on my radar.
Or staying the morning. Or agreeing to forever with the serial killer who broke my heart and then somehow pieced it back together with blood-stained hands.
My clothes sit folded on top of his dresser, neat in a way that screams Damien’s particular brand of control. He must have gone downstairs at some point when I was sleeping and grabbed them from where we’d abandoned them in his office. I pick up my jeans, shaking them out.
“What about the rest?” His voice carries amusement.
I eye my underwear with distaste, the lace looking sad and crumpled. The shirt’s no better—wrinkled and reeking of yesterday’s anxious sweat. “I’m not re-wearing those.”
“I like where this is going.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the bedpost with water still beading on his skin like some kind of pornographic statue come to life.
“You would.” I pull on my jeans, the denim rough against my bare skin. “Do you have a shirt I can borrow?”
His expression darkens. My pulse spikes and my mouth goes dry.
Hunger flashes across his face, primal and obvious, but beneath it lurks a devotion that makes my stomach flip.
The way he looks at me, like I’m both salvation and ruin, a treasure he’d burn the world to keep.
I’m only beginning to understand the weight of being so thoroughly wanted.
He moves to his closet, pulling out a light blue button-down.
“This one.”
I slip my arms through the sleeves, and it engulfs me, the hem falling to mid-thigh and the shoulders drooping well past mine. I start buttoning it, moving from bottom to top, but his hands cover mine, stopping me halfway up.
“I want to do it.”
His fingers work the buttons with a gentleness that seems at odds with what I know he’s capable of. But his breathing’s gone rough, each exhale a little too deliberate, a little too controlled. When he reaches the top button, his knuckles brush against my throat, and his eyes have gone molten.
“It’s just a shirt, Damien.”
“It’s my shirt.” His thumb traces my collarbone where the fabric gapes, dipping into the hollow of my throat. “On your body. Marking you as mine in a way everyone can see.”
“Okay, caveman.”
He pulls me flush against him, and the hard length of him presses against my stomach. “You’re going to smell like me all day.”
I push at his chest, fighting a smile that wants to break free. “Get dressed before I change my mind about lunch.”
He releases me with obvious reluctance, pulling on boxer briefs and jeans.
I watch him button his own shirt, black this time, rolling the sleeves to his elbows.
The morning light catches the tattoos on his forearms, those warped human figures that no longer seem quite so monstrous now that I understand what they represent.
Each one a life he ended, a victim he avenged, a monster he put down.
They’re a memorial and a confession inked into his skin for anyone who knows how to read them.
“We’re insane, aren’t we?” The words slip out before I can stop them.
He pauses. For a moment, he just looks at me, and I can’t read his expression.
“Probably.”
I sink onto the edge of his bed, suddenly needing to sit. “We’re building a relationship on the foundation of your deception, my forgiveness, and a shared conspiracy to frame a dead man for murder.”
“Murders. Plural.” He sits beside me, close enough that our thighs touch. “Don’t shortchange my body count.”
A laugh bubbles up, edged with hysteria, because what else can I do?
“God, that shouldn’t be funny.”
“But it is.” His hand finds mine, lacing our fingers together. “Dark humor for a dark situation.”
I stare at our joined hands. My fingers look small wrapped in his.
The shape of his hand catches my attention.
The way his fingers sit slightly crooked, bones that were broken, over and over, and never properly healed.
Evidence of his father's brutality. I lift them to my lips as I blink back tears.
“Our foundation is built on more than just those things, Luna. It’s built on love.
” I open my mouth, but my words die on my tongue.
“Yes, I know it started with secrets and lies and my obsession, but I think I fell in love with you the second I laid eyes on you, even though I had no idea what it was.”
My eyes soften at the sincere expression on his face, at the vulnerability there that he only shows me. Even though we talked all of this out last night and this morning, I’m still wrapping my mind around our new reality.
“You’re a serial killer, Damien.”
“Yes.”
“And I’m a veterinarian. I save lives.”
“You do.” His thumb strokes across my knuckles.
“I helped you cover up Caleb’s death.” My voice comes out steady despite the magnitude of the admission.
“You did.” There’s no shame in his voice, no regret. “And that secret binds us tighter than any wedding vow could.”
My heart rate spikes at the words “wedding vow.”
I turn to face him. “That’s what I mean. Our relationship, the future of it, isn’t built on normal things. It’s forged in blood and lies and choosing each other over everything else.”
“Is that a problem?” His eyes search mine.
I examine the question, turning it over in my mind. Twenty-four hours ago, I would have said yes. I would have run screaming from this reality. But that was before I understood what we really are to each other.
“No. It’s the opposite. Because you’ve shown me the absolute worst of yourself, and I’ve chosen to stay. I’ve become complicit in your crimes. There’s nothing left to hide.”
“No more secrets.” His free hand cups my face, his thumb brushing my cheekbone. “I promised you that.”
“And I trust you.” The words feel like jumping off a cliff, but the fall is exhilarating. “Which is insane, because you lied to me for months. But I trust you more now, after seeing everything, than I would if you’d been honest from the start.”
His eyebrows rise. “How’s that logic work?”
“Because now I know what you’re capable of.” I lean into his touch. “The manipulation, the violence, the cold calculation. And I know you’ve chosen not to use any of it against me anymore. You’ve given me power over you by telling me the truth. I could destroy you with what I know.”
“You could.” There’s no fear in his admission.
I brush my lips against his. “But I won’t. Just like you won’t betray me again. Because the cost is too high for both of us.”
“Mutually assured destruction as the foundation of a relationship.” His mouth quirks. “That’s healthy.”
“It’s honest.” I stand, pulling him up with me. “We’re not a normal couple, Damien. We’re never going to be normal. But we’re real.”
He draws me close, his forehead pressing against mine. “Real enough that it scares the shit out of me.”
“Good.” I slide my hands up his chest, feeling his heart race beneath my palms. “You should be scared. I’ve seen the monster under your mask, and I’m not running. That makes me dangerous.”
“You’re the most dangerous thing in my life. Luna.” His voice drops to a whisper. “Because you’re the only person who could actually hurt me.”
This man, this killer, this damaged soul who looks at me like I’m the only light in his universe, is terrified I’ll break him.
“I won’t.” I cup his face in both palms now, holding his gaze so he can see the truth in mine. “I won’t hurt you. I won’t leave. I won’t—”
His lips capture mine, stealing my breath and my words. His kiss tastes like promise and possession, like every dark thing we’ve confessed and every twisted truth we’ve accepted.
When we break apart, his eyes have gone dark with emotion. I’m not going to be able to hold out against that look for long. I step back, smoothing down his borrowed shirt.
“If I don’t get some food in me soon, I’m going to eat you instead.”
“Now that sounds like a meal I’d enjoy.” His hands reach for my hips.
I dance out of range, heading for the bedroom door. “Grilled cheese. Soup. Sanctuary. Maren. Remember?”
He follows me down the stairs, grumbling under his breath, as I go in search of my purse and phone.
We enter his office. Athena snoozes in her bed in the corner. Her head pops up when we walk in, tail thumping once against the cushion in lazy greeting. I grab my purse from the back of the armchair where I’d abandoned it yesterday.
“You know what the crazy part is?”
“What?”
“I feel safer with you than I ever have with anyone.” I pause, meeting his gaze.
He holds up my coat, and I slip my arms into it. “Maybe safety isn’t about being with someone who’d never hurt you. Maybe it’s about being with someone who could destroy you but chooses not to.”
The truth of it resonates in my bones. I’m just as complicit as he is now.
Damien could ruin my life with a single decision.
And I could ruin his just as easily. We hold each other’s fate in our hands, and that mutual vulnerability creates a foundation stronger than any built on comfortable lies or convenient half-truths.
Outside his windows, the early afternoon light paints the world in shades of gold and possibility.
Somewhere out there, my former life continues without me.
But the Luna who believed in black and white morality, who never would have understood how love and violence could coexist in the same breath, is gone now.
In her place stands someone new. Someone who looks at the man across from her and sees both monster and savior. A woman who’s made peace with the blood on her hands and the choices that put it there, who’s chosen darkness with open eyes and called it love.
I turn to him and press the front of my body against his, needing the contact. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For trusting me enough to show me the truth. For giving me the choice instead of making it for me.”
He wraps his arms around me, leaning down to bury his face in my neck, his breath warm against my skin. His chest expands against mine as he inhales, like he’s trying to capture my scent and lock it somewhere deep inside him.
“I love you, little doe.”
The nickname that once irritated me now feels like an endearment, a reminder of what we’ve survived to get here.
“I love you too.” I press a kiss over his heart. “Every stalking, spying, murderous, obsessive, possessive, controlling piece of you.”