My heart squeezes inside my chest, and I instantly throw my arms around her, hugging her because, truthfully, I have no qualms with her. She hasn’t done anything wrong and has instead spent the day by my side, showing me around, explaining everything to me.
Pack laws. Alpha’s duties. A mating ceremony that was left out because Damian didn’t want to scare me.
As if all of this doesn’t already frighten me.
After he showed me around yesterday and made me see that werewolves do exist, while showing that this place in the valley isn’t something to be afraid of, but rather a community of beings who wouldn’t fit in with the humans, I’ve been restless, trying to accept that all of this is true. Even Dianna spent today answering my questions, and while it’s starting to make sense, I can’t believe that I’ve been so blind all this time.
What’s worse is that I feel manipulated even more now. If I meant anything to Damian, he would have told me while we’d been seeing each other. He could have told me the truth about his identity, and I would have accepted him, because I loved him back then.
Or would I have laughed in his face and told him he was crazy?
That’s also highly possible.
I pull back and offer Dianna a nervous half-smile before turning and saying goodnight to her as she leaves. I pause to take a deep breath outside, pulling myself together and remindingmyself that, despite the happenings of the past few days, Damian is still the enemy.
But as soon as I walk in, I’m betrayed by my senses when my airways are hit with the gorgeous aroma of homemade food, and my vision is snatched by the sight of Damian laying out cutlery on the table next to the plates he’s already set out. There’s a candle burning beside the centerpiece on the table, a range of flowers neatly set out in a vase.
My heart skips a beat the moment he straightens and turns, his eyes meeting mine and lighting up. It’s not the first time I’ve seen that look in his eyes today—it was there when he watched me tend to patients in the clinic this afternoon.
I gulp hard as I stand there dumbfounded for a moment, taking in the sight of him with only a pinch of salt—enough to tingle an open wound, but not immobilizing in a way that prevents me from seeing what’s right in front of me.
He’s wearing a crisp white shirt that’s tucked into his khaki pants, the sleeves rolled up almost to his elbows and exposing his muscular forearms. The way the candle flickers behind him highlights the veins mapping his forearms, and I catch myself gawking and blink, tearing my eyes away. But when I look up, I’m stunned by the way he smiles softly—that damned charming smile that weakens my knees as I imagine myself tracing a finger across his sharp, structured jawline.
I blow out a frustrated breath—frustrated because I don’t know who I’m fooling by believing that I can resist Damian’s natural charm. Even his blue eyes twinkle as he stares at me, and I find myself falling into the charm they hold.
“You’re right on time,” he says, snapping me out of my daze and pulling me out of the throes of those infinite, hypnotizing blues. He seems to notice the moment my walls ofdefense come up again, because he turns and disappears into the kitchen without another word.
Something pulls me forward to follow him, perhaps curiosity, or something I can’t quite name, but I walk into the kitchen to find him pulling out a tray from the oven, carrying steaks he prepared, along with roasted baby potatoes and greens prepared so appetizingly.
My tummy rumbles in response, so even when he asks me to take a seat, I don’t protest.
Damian pulls out my chair for me, and there’s a moment, albeit brief, in which I forget all about the past and relish in the quiet comfort of a warm cabin and delicious food once he plates our dinner and pours our wine. There was a time when I pictured that this would be our life together, growing old in a cabin alongside a river, where our children would fill the quiet with their laughter and play, until they were grown and it was just Damian and me.
My stomach drops, and my appetite dies in a sudden shift that catches me off guard. I look up from my plate, watching the way the flame flickers in the center of the table, casting a luminous glow on Damian’s face as he cuts a piece of steak.
“You understand that none of this is normal, right?” I scoff as I gesture to the table, and even as the words leave my lips, I’m not sure who I’m saying it to, me or him. “Not this dinner, not this marriage, none of it is normal.”
Damian sighs as he sets down his fork and knife, then straightens up like he’s giving me his undivided attention. My heart skips a beat again when his eyes meet mine, a celestial glow illuminating the azure depths.
“I know that none of this is normal, Sophie. But I could never give you normal.”
I flinch when I pick up the sadness laced in his tone, as if his words hurt me as much as they hurt him.
“Is that why you broke up with me?” I ask in a hesitant whisper, and Damian purses his lips, eyes flitting to the candle in a moment’s hesitation before he looks back at me.
“Yes,” he whispers back, eyes solemn pools of sincerity. “And I’m sorry for what I did to hurt you. I should have given you an explanation, trusted you with who I am.”
I scoff bitterly when the apology doesn’t feel like it’s enough, my appetite turning to nausea that compels me to get off my chair. “Yeah, you should have, but you didn’t. I’m not hungry anymore.”
I’m just about to walk past him when he grabs my wrist to stop me, and I turn and glare at him when I snatch my hand away, too aware of his touch and what it does to affect me, but too upset to care.
“I hate you…” I whisper, heaviness lodged in my throat.
“I know,” Damian concedes, and that’s what throws me off the edge.
“Two years, Damian. You disappeared for two years, and then you show up and decide to kidnap me, and—”
“I didn’tdecideto kidnap you, Sophie!” he snaps, getting up from his chair. “You were being followed by a demon, and then the attack happened, and you fainted. I had to get you to safety. Do you blame me?”
