Chapter 4 Damon
FOUR
DAMON
They moved inside the beach house, a structure that perfectly reflected its owner’s personality: functional, unadorned, built for durability rather than comfort.
The main area was sparse but well-crafted, with dark wood furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased the endless ocean view.
No photographs adorned the walls, no personal touches softened the stark lines—just the bare minimum required for survival and solitude.
Damon retrieved his wetsuit from the bedroom closet, the familiar ritual of preparation already beginning to quiet his restless thoughts.
The suit was black, just like his dragon’s scales, and fit his powerful frame like a second skin.
As he pulled it on, he caught sight of himself in the mirror—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, the scars that mapped his torso telling stories he preferred not to remember.
Two hundred years old and still running from shadows.
Kaelith emerged from the guest room already suited up, his red hair bright against the dark neoprene.
He grabbed both surfboards from their rack near the back door—Damon’s a massive longboard built to handle his size and strength, his own a more agile shortboard designed for speed and maneuverability.
The walk to the water’s edge was conducted in comfortable silence, both men automatically scanning the horizon for potential threats even as they prepared for recreation.
But the ocean soon welcomed them with perfect sets rolling in from the deep Pacific, waves that had traveled thousands of miles to break against the volcanic shore of Everflame Isle.
Damon waded into the surf, feeling the familiar embrace of saltwater, and the way it seemed to wash away everything except the present moment.
He paddled out beyond the break line, his powerful strokes cutting through the water with practiced efficiency. Behind him, Kaelith followed with the fluid grace of someone born to the ocean, both men settling into the rhythm that had sustained them through countless sessions over the years.
The first wave of the set approached like a moving mountain, its face clean and glassy in the afternoon light.
Damon positioned himself perfectly, reading the water’s intentions with the same instincts that made him a formidable Alpha.
As the wave lifted him, he popped to his feet in one fluid motion, his board responding to his subtle shifts in weight as he carved across the face.
Here, finally, was peace. No clan politics, no anniversary ghosts, no weight of leadership pressing down on his shoulders. Just the pure, elemental joy of matching his skill against the ocean, of finding that perfect balance between control and surrender that had always eluded him on dry land.
Out here, I can be just Damon.
The sun had begun its descent toward the horizon when Damon finally emerged from the Pacific, saltwater streaming from his wetsuit as he carried his board up the beach.
The session had been exactly what he’d needed—hours of pure focus that had temporarily silenced the ghosts haunting him.
Beside him, Kaelith shook water from his auburn hair, both men moving with easy exhaustion.
As they approached the beach house, Damon’s enhanced senses picked up a familiar scent carried on the wind—jasmine and steel, authority wrapped in feminine grace. His steps faltered for just a moment before he forced himself to continue up the wooden stairs.
His aunt Evelina sat in one of his teak chairs, her posture as regal as if she were holding court in the clan’s grand hall instead of waiting on his private deck.
Her dark hair, streaked with silver that caught the fading light, was pulled back in an elegant bun that emphasized the sharp angles of her face.
She wore a flowing crimson dress that seemed to move with its own wind, and her deep green eyes—so similar to his own—tracked his approach with the patience of a predator.
“Is everything alright?” The words came out sharper than intended as Damon propped his surfboard against the deck railing.
Evelina rarely visited his beach house, understanding his need for solitude better than most. Her presence here meant something had shifted, and not in a direction he was likely to appreciate.
“Define ‘alright.’” She rose from the chair with fluid grace, her movements carrying the same controlled power that marked all their kind. “The clan is restless, Damon. They’re beginning to question whether their Alpha still remembers they exist.”
Kaelith cleared his throat diplomatically. “I should head back and check the evening patrols.” He disappeared into the house to change, leaving Damon alone with the one person who could reduce him to feeling like a sullen adolescent with nothing more than a raised eyebrow.
“We’ve discussed this.” Damon’s voice carried the finality that usually ended conversations. But Evelina had been immune to his intimidation tactics since the day she’d taken him in and treated Damon like her own son after his parents’ death.
“We’ve discussed your need for distance.
But it’s been a century, Damon. We haven’t discussed the pressure I’m facing as clan matriarch to have you interact with the clan more and to see you properly mated.
” She moved closer, her presence radiating the kind of authority that had kept their people united for centuries.
“They want connection. They want to know your legacy and bloodline will continue.”
“That’s not going to happen. Not after what occurred with Sylvie, not after the raid. Love brings chaos and pain—nothing more.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Evelina’s voice cut through his objection like a blade. “Love didn’t cause that tragedy. Tharen did. Your uncle manipulated the situation, used your distraction against you, but the emotion itself wasn’t the weapon—he was.”
She doesn’t understand.
The thought burned through his mind as memories of that night threatened to surface. “I lowered my defenses because I was focused on courtship instead of protection. That mistake cost lives.”
“Bad timing and a master manipulator cost lives,” she corrected, stepping close enough that he had to look down to meet her eyes.
Before he could formulate a response, she delivered the blow that sent his world tilting off its axis.
“I contacted Gerri Wilder to find your fated mate.”
The words hit him like a physical force. “You did what?”
“She called back this afternoon. She’s found her. The human woman’s name is Isla.” Evelina’s smile held the satisfaction of someone who’d just played a winning hand. “Isla will also be helping us open that bookstore the clan has been requesting for years. Two birds, one stone.”
No.
The rejection slammed through every cell in his body, his carefully constructed walls threatening to crumble under the weight of this unwanted revelation. “I don’t accept this. I won’t be forced into anything when I’m not ready.”
Despite his fury, he couldn’t bring himself to truly unleash his anger on the woman who’d stepped into his mother’s role when grief had nearly destroyed him. Evelina had meant well—she always did—but this felt like betrayal wrapped in good intentions.
“I would be perfectly content to remain alone forever.” The words came out as a growl, his control fraying at the edges.
But even as he spoke them, his dragon betrayed him. The beast that had been restless for years suddenly surged forward with desperate hunger, craving the connection Damon had spent a century denying.
Shut it down.
“When does she arrive?” The question escaped before he could stop it, curiosity warring with dread.
“Tomorrow.”
The timeline sent panic shooting through his veins. “That’s too soon.”
“Well, I told Gerri that you would meet her at the main territory building that will house the bookstore. The renovation is nearly complete, and she’ll want to see the space to give her input. She owns her own bookstore in Cape Cod.”
A human bookstore owner?
The information settled like lead in his stomach.
He’d always imagined that if he ever considered mating again, it would be with someone who matched his strength—another dragon, perhaps, someone who understood power and the weight of leadership.
Not some fragile human who probably spent her days surrounded by romance novels and fairy tale endings.
“This won’t work.” He turned away from Evelina’s knowing gaze, staring out at the ocean that had been his refuge for so many years. “She’ll be wasting her time if she expects anything to develop between us.”
But his dragon had other ideas entirely. The beast clawed at his consciousness, filled with anticipation and hunger that had been building for decades.
No. Stop it.
Damon wrestled his dragon back under control, muscle and will straining against instinct. This was exactly how disasters began—with the kind of distraction that made him vulnerable to threats against his people.
He couldn’t afford this. Not now, not ever.
He would resist this with every fiber of his being.