Fine.She didn’t need his cozy, comforting arms holding her, protecting her from the dreams that plagued her mind every night. She’d much prefer sleeping alone in a cold, strange bed. Oh, who was she kidding? She wanted him.
Deciding to test how strong his willpower really was, she spoke as seductively as she could, “You know . . .” She yawned, stretching her hands over her head, allowing her shirt to rise, exposing her lower abdomen. “I sleep better with nothing on.” She looked up at him through her lashes, adding, “That won’t be a problem for you, will it?”
She didn’t wait for his answer. With practiced ease, she tugged at the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head to reveal the soft curve of her bare skin beneath.
Damien’s jaw clenched, his eyes flicking away for a moment, then returning, his resolve fraying with every inch of her exposed skin. Clearly his willpower wasn’t one of magical strength.
“Aren’t you hot?” she offered, gesturing towards his tunic.
Damien wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “Incredibly.”
In a blink, shadows darker than any night sky slid along the walls like a protective barricade, as if commanded to stand watch, then he moved to her. Each step was slow, deliberate, his gaze locked on hers.
Anticipation thrummed in every fibre of her being.
Standing before her now, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.
Luna didn’t bother pretending to be coy. Her gaze drifted down, unapologetically—over the curve of his shoulders and the broad expanse of his chest, dusted with faint trails of dark hair that tapered over firm, ridged muscles. His stomach, cut and lean, spoke of strength earned, not sculpted for vanity. A web of scars marred the perfection—some pale and faded, others angrier, newer . . . like slashes of history carved into flesh.
One in particular caught her eye; a deep, jagged mark ran across his abdomen, disrupting the neat lines like a wound that never quite healed clean.
She reached out, fingertips brushing against the rough ridges of the scar. “What happened?” She’d seen his scars before, when they’d washed in the river, but she’d been too distracted then to ask.
He flinched, and she withdrew her hand.
“My sister happened.”
“What do you mean?”
“Arleen . . .” A faint smile tugged at his lips. “She’s restless. Never could stay in one place for long. The wind calls, and she’s gone.”
“The one getting married?”
He gave her a stiff nod, then he drew in a breath. “When we were kids, she snuck out one night. No idea where she was headed—some wild adventure, I’m sure. I followed her. Pureluck that I did.”
He pointed to the scar Luna had just touched. “I earned that one protecting her from a group of nightwalkers.”
She studied it, how it twisted along his chest and disappeared beneath his ribs. Whatever nightwalkers were, they hadn’t gone down easily.
“Was she okay?”
“Yes.” His voice lowered. “I got there just in time.”
His fingers brushed near the scar, not quite touching it. “That was the first time I really understood what it meant to stand between someone and death.” He glanced at her. “After that, it never stopped.”
A breath passed before he went on. “I’ve led armies. Seen war too many times, in too many places. That’s where I met Gregory . . . and, believe it or not, Harlow and Knox too.”
Luna tilted her head. “Oh?”
Instead of answering, Damien sat down on the bed beside her, rolling his wrist absently, as if easing out an ache.
“The Siege of Durnhelm. Fifteen days of ash, rot, and thunder. I was barely twenty.” His voice lowered again, to a mere whisper. “I thought I understood war. I’d studied it, trained for it, but I didn’t.”
His eyes went distant, gaze fixed on something far beyond the room. “We slept in shifts—if we slept at all. The air burned with smoke and magic. You couldn’t tell what day it was. Stopped trying. Every hour blurred into the next.”
“Sounds awful.”
“It was,” he said, his throat bobbing slightly. “Gregory was a scout. Good instincts, terrible timing. Got separated behind enemy lines trying to map out a safe route through the ruins. I went after him—stupid thing to do, really. Nearly got both of us killed.”
