Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
Luna
The helicopter ride back to my sanctuary is quiet. Damien sits across from me now, no longer pressed against my side as he was on the journey into the city. The distance between us feels deliberate, calculated, but his gaze rarely leaves me.
We land on his property, and he drives me the short distance to my house, dropping me at my door with the gentleman’s manners he wears like his expensive tux.
But there was nothing gentlemanly about the way he had me against his window less than an hour ago, dress hiked up around my waist, his mouth between my thighs, coaxing sounds from me that I only make for my wolf.
The soft glow from behind the living room curtains suggests Maren is still awake.
I turn to look at him. “Thank you for tonight.”
His mouth curves into a dangerous smile. “My pleasure.”
“Damien—”
“Next time…” He steps closer, the faint scent of my arousal still clinging to him. “I’ll have you in my bed, Luna. And you won’t leave it until morning.”
It’s not a question. There’s no room for negotiation. It’s just pure, unwavering certainty delivered by a man who’s used to getting what he wants. The worst part is how my body once again betrays me, responding to his dominance with a fresh surge of want.
“Goodnight, Damien.” I force the words past the knot in my throat.
He leans closer, and my breath catches. For one moment, I think he’s going to kiss me, going to make me taste myself on his tongue again. Instead, he stops just shy of contact, his breath ghosting across my lips like a promise.
“Goodnight, Luna,” he whispers, then steps back and strides to his SUV.
I stay frozen on my porch until his taillights disappear into the swirling snow. Only then do my lungs remember how to work, releasing the breath I’ve been holding in a shaky exhale as I fumble for my keys.
The living room is lit only by the light of the TV.
Maren is asleep on the couch with Ricky curled up on her chest, his fingers wrapped around her left breast. The sight makes me chuckle despite the turmoil inside me.
I grab the throw blanket from the back of the armchair and drape it over both of them.
Ricky stirs, his eyes opening to slits, but he just snuggles closer to Maren and drifts back to sleep.
I make my way into the dining room, pulling a bottle of Jameson out of the hutch before pouring myself a glass, needing some liquid courage for what I know is coming. I swallow it down in one gulp, coughing as it burns my throat.
I don’t know how long I stand there before I head upstairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. The guilt comes in waves as I strip off my dress and step into the shower.
The warm water beats down on my shoulders as I scrub every inch of my skin, as if I could wash away what happened.
As if I could wash away Damien’s scent, his touch, the evidence of my betrayal.
Because that’s what it feels like more and more. Betrayal. Kissing Damien wasn’t a betrayal of my wolf. Not really. But letting Damien make me come with his tongue is.
Why didn’t I stop it?
But even as the regret washes over me, there’s something else. Excitement. Exhilaration. The image of Damien on his knees before me, his eyes burning with hunger as he looked up at me, makes my heart race all over again.
And beneath it all, confusion.
Because I’m falling for him. How is that even possible when I have such strong feelings for my wolf? How can I have such intense feelings for two different men?
I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around myself, wiping the steam from the mirror. My reflection stares back at me, flushed and bright-eyed despite the late hour. I look different. Changed.
With a sigh, I pull on a silk robe and run a brush through my hair before walking into my bedroom. The room is dark, but I don’t bother with the lights, my eyes already adjusting to the dim glow filtering through the curtains.
My skin erupts in goosebumps from my scalp to my toes, and the tiny hairs on my neck rise as fear ripples through me.
He’s here.
A stillness in the corner of the room, motionless, waiting, radiating a presence that makes every instinct scream danger.
“Did you have a good time at your gala, little doe?”
His voice comes out of the darkness, low and hard. I freeze, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“Yes.” I swallow. “It was nice.”
He steps forward into the faint strip of moonlight slicing through my curtains. His mask gleams, covering the upper half of his face. But his mouth, that beautiful mouth that has never once kissed me, is visible, twisting into a smirk that makes my stomach drop.
“Nice,” he echoes, the word sounding dangerous on his lips. “And after? Was that nice too?”
My blood runs cold. How does he always know?
“I don’t know what you mean.” I retreat a step as he advances.
“Don’t lie to me, Luna.” He erases the remaining space until his presence overwhelms me, that intoxicating, clean, masculine scent that makes my treacherous body respond. My core pulses, my body softening and readying for him.
I swallow hard. “We had a drink at his place after the benefit.”
His hand comes up, fingers brushing my jaw with unexpected softness. Then his grip tightens, forcing my chin up.
“You have to be quiet tonight, little doe.” His voice gets quieter but somehow more menacing. “We don’t want to wake Maren, do we?”
My body spins before I can answer, and cold plastic snaps around my wrists as the zip ties lock tight.
“Wait—”
“Shhh.” His breath warm brushes against my ear. “Quiet, remember? Unless you want her to come up here and find you like this.”
The mental image makes me flush with arousal rather than embarrassment. He knows the right buttons to push, the correct combination to make me respond to him.
“Now.” He faces me towards him, his hands moving to the belt of my robe. “Let me see that beautiful body.”
He works the knot loose and pushes the silk from my shoulders. The fabric catches on my bound wrists, leaving me exposed while the robe hangs useless behind me. He steps back to take in the view.
“Turn around.”
I hesitate, and his hand rises to circle my throat. No pressure, just weight, a reminder of the power he has over me.
“Turn. Around.”
I face away from him, shivering as the cool air touches my damp skin. Fabric rustles behind me, and then cool steel presses against my skin as he cuts my robe, so it falls from my wrists.
Shit! He brought his knife.
He’s only used it a handful of times since that first night. But it still scares the fuck out of me every time.
The blade slides away with a whisper, replaced by his palms on my hips, his thumbs finding the dimples above my tailbone. Then one hand moves lower, fingers sliding between my thighs from behind until his middle finger glides through my slick folds.
I gasp at the contact, my body already responding to his touch.
“Wet.” He withdraws his hand. “You’re always so ready for me, Luna? But is this for me? Or because you let another man touch you?”
I stay silent because a lie would taste wrong on my tongue, but the truth might shatter whatever fragile thing exists between us. Will honesty finally kill this twisted dance we do in the dark?
“You let him do something. Tell me what.”
The slap lands hard across my ass when I don’t respond fast enough, echoing through the room. I bite down on my lip to stop the sound threatening to break free.
“Tell me.”
“He… he went down on me.” The confession tumbles out breathless, tangled with heat I can’t forget.
“Where?”
“In his living room. Against his window.”
My body tenses as I brace for rage and brutality. Instead, a sound that almost resembles approval rumbles from his chest.
“Did you come?” My hesitation earns me another slap, this one stinging worse than the first. “Did you come for him, Luna?”
“Yes.” My voice cracks on the word.
“How many times?”
“Once.”
He holds perfectly still behind me, hands anchored on my hips while seconds tick by. Then he’s guiding me forward, pushing me toward the bed.
“On your knees. Face down, ass up.”
I struggle onto the bed with my wrists bound. This spread-out position always brings a familiar mix of fear and anticipation.
The metallic clink of his belt opening fills the quiet room, followed by the sound of his zipper. The bed shifts as he climbs on, kneeling behind me. His hands find my hips again, gripping hard enough that I know I’ll wear his fingerprints tomorrow.
“You’re mine, Luna. Say it.” He drives into me without warning. I bury my face in the duvet, crying out as my body stretches around his thickness.
“I’m yours,” I manage between broken breaths as he moves.
His rhythm is punishment, each thrust shoving me forward on the mattress.
I press my face into the pillow to muffle the sounds trying to escape while he takes me with relentless force.
The zip ties bite into my wrists as I strain against them, the sharp ache mixing with pleasure when he hits that spot inside me over and over.
“Did you want him to fuck you like this?” His hand twists into my hair, yanking my head back. “Did you?”
“I don’t know,” I gasp, the truth spilling out.
“But you let him put his mouth on my pussy. You wanted it.”
“Yes.”
His pace turns savage, each thrust driving my body forward. Pleasure and pain crash together, tearing gasps from me with every stroke.
“You’re mine, Luna. Say it!”
“Yours.” The word tears out of me because denying it would be a lie.
“Again.”
“Yours.”
He slams into me, burying himself to the hilt. Then he drapes himself over my body, his chest pressed to my back, his mouth at my ear. “What’s mine?”
“My pussy.” The words come out sharp and clear, too loud in the quiet room, and he clamps his hand over my mouth.
“Don’t wake Maren.” He sinks his teeth into my earlobe. “What else is mine, little doe?”
“Every part of me,” I sob when he removes his hand.