Page 43 of Lords of Ruin: Cherished

I pause at the doorway, turning just enough to flash him a dazzling, teasing smile. "You’ll have to catch me first."

I feel the gentle breeze against my skin as Damien leads me along the winding path through Thornhaven Park. His hand is warm in mine, a wicker basket swinging from his other arm.

“Are we there yet?” I ask, my eyes darting across the empty park, filled with flowers just coming into bloom, the sight is magical and I want to stay here forever.

“Has no one taught you patience, Trouble?” He teases, pulling me closer to his body, a dimpled smile on his face.

“Nope,” I say. “I think you’ll have to teach me.”

“Or I can just punish you.” He shrugs.

I pinch his side. “Don’t tell me you’re a sadist.”

“No, that’s Cast,” he scoffs, moving his head down to my ear as he whispers. “But I would love to see you squirm.”

I swallow roughly, well becausewhat the hellcan I say to that other than yes, please. Damien leads me deeper into Thornhaven Park, where a massive willow tree sways gently in the breeze. Its long branches drape around us like a curtain, shielding us from the rest of the world. The spot is perfect—secluded, quiet, untouched.

He sets the wicker basket down and spreads a soft blanket beneath the tree, motioning for me to sit.

"You really went all out," I say, glancing at the already set up blanket, pillows and crystal glasses.

“Anything for you, Trouble.” He winks as he unpacks the basket with that methodical precision that characterizes everything he does—artisanal cheeses, fresh berries, warm bread, and pastries from that French bakery I mentioned once in passing. Of course he remembered. The Knight forgets nothing.

"Wine?" He's already pouring me a glass, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Trying to get me tipsy, Damien?" I tease, accepting the glass from him. "I'm starting to think you have ulterior motives."

Damien's laugh is a rare sound, deep and genuine. "If I had ulterior motives, you'd know it." His fingers brush against mine as he hands me the glass, lingering just a moment too long. "I prefer you completely aware of what's happening between us."

“And what’s happening between us?” I tease, taking a small sip of the crisp sweet wine.

“I am wining and dining you, in hope that I can make up for being a complete dick to the love of my life.” He says so matter of factly, it catches me off guard.

I clear my throat, heat exploding off the tips of my ears. “I forgave you a long time ago.”

“Really?” He questions, sitting down and pulling me onto his lap. The wine splashes a little onto the blanket and I giggle as I hit his chest. He murmurs into my hair. “Why?”

“I had no choice.” I shrug, staring into his stormy eyes. “I knew I loved you, and there was nothing I could do about it.”

He catches my wrist right after I put my wine glass down and presses a slow kiss to my pulse point. My breath hitches, butbefore I can say anything, he releases me, reaching for the wine and pouring himself a glass as he says, “I don’t deserve you, Trouble. I don’t fucking deserve you.”

We eat and talk, and I find myself relaxing in a way I rarely do, and never have around him. There's something about being here, hidden away under this willow tree with him, that makes me feel seen, safe and loved. The sun casts golden light through the branches as it begins to set.

Damien leans back on his elbows, his gaze on me, thoughtful. “Do you ever think about painting again?”

I pause, my fingers tracing the edge of the blanket as I try to find the right words.

“I used to paint because everything felt too big—too loud. I couldn’t make sense of my emotions unless I put them on a canvas,” I admit.

Damien tilts his head, his grey eyes locked onto mine, as realization crosses his face. “So, what? You only paint when you’re spiraling?”

I shift, suddenly self-conscious under the weight of his gaze. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Then explain it to me.”

I let out a slow breath. “Painting was how I survived. It was the only way I knew how to process everything. I would pour myself into my art because if I didn’t, I felt like I’d drown in it all.” I bite my lip. “But I don’t feel like that anymore.”

“What changed?” He questions, his eyebrows scrunching in a cute way that makes him look innocent.

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