Page 138 of Wild Tangled Hearts

Damien chuckles, and I grab his hand, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

As we settle into an easy conversation, my parents regale Damien with stories of my childhood. Dad can't resist telling him about the year I insisted on wearing nothing but pink from head to toe. He even pulls out a photo album filled with embarrassing pictures of me in various shades of pink, each outfit more outrageous than the last.

“She had an artistic streak even at age five,” my mom says.

Amidst the laughter and storytelling, I glance at Damien, who is fully engaged in the conversation, his eyes sparkling with genuine amusement. And I can't help but fall in love with him all over again, seeing how easily he fits into my family's dynamic.

After an afternoon filled with laughter, we say our goodbyes. Mom hugs me tightly and whispers, "He's a keeper, Bella. We like him."

A sense of relief washes over me. Damien has won over my parents, and my heart swells with happiness as we head out.

Damien’s motorcycle roars to life when we hit the open road. The wind rushes around us, tousling my hair as I grip him tightly, a rush of exhilaration washing over me. I feel a growing sense of contentment and freedom with each passing mile.

The road narrows as we wind through the forest, the dappled sunlight playing on the leaves overhead. I can't help but feel a sense of wonder as I take in the beauty of the natural world around us. The anticipation builds with every mile we cover, and soon, the cottage comes into view. It's a charming, rustic cabin nestled amidst the trees, its wooden exterior blending seamlessly with nature.

I glance at Damien, and his expression mirrors my emotions.Happy. Peaceful. Loved.

He unlocks the door, and we enter the cozy interior: A large stone fireplace, plush furnishings, and huge bay windows that frame picturesque views of the surrounding forest and lake. It's a world away from Damien's sleek loft apartment, with all its high-scale security.

“It’s gorgeous.”

“I hoped you’d like it.” His arms encircle me, and I rest my back against his chest. “What Ireallythink you’ll like is the ensuite bathroom. There’s a tub built for two.”

I twist in his arms. “Well, that settles it. I know what I want to do first.”

He chuckles. “Really? Because my first preference was christening the primary bedroom, then the bathtub, and if you still have energy, the couch.”

I kiss him, then murmur against his lips. “Best plan ever.”

“God, I love you.”

And for the next several hours, he shows me just how much.

Completely sated and exhausted, we sit in front of the crackling fireplace, wine in hand, and Damien's fingers trace patterns along my arm, his touch even now sending shivers of desire down my spine.

“Thank you for bringing me. It’s beautiful here.”

“This place has a lot of memories.” He brushes his thumb across my cheek. “But this one is my favorite.” Something dark flickers in his eyes. It’s a darkness I’ve seen often, one he’s become an expert at dismissing. “I’m hoping together we can erase the other ones.”

"What do you mean?" I probe.

He takes a deep breath, a battle raging in his stormy gaze like he’s debating how much to share. “I dreaded coming here for a long time."

I place my hand on his arm, hoping he’ll keep opening up. That he’ll finally show me some of the demons I know he’s been fighting.

“As a kid, this place was barely a shack in the woods.” His gaze drifts to the flickering flames. “When my grandfather died, he left it to me. I thought about selling it…” His brows are drawn, and he shakes his head, sighing. “But then I figured it would just be letting the bastard win if I did. So, I decided to fix it up. I’ve spent the last several years trying to update it, make it a better place.”

He turns to look at me, his eyes filled with vulnerability. "This cabin was the site of some of my worst nightmares, Bella. It's where my dad used to bring Stacey and me when he wanted to hurt us.” He pauses, then adds, “A place where the neighbors couldn’t hear our screams.”

My breath catches in my throat as his revelation sinks in.

“The “last time I was here with the bastard…” Damien drags a hand over his neck, jaw clenching, then continues, " It was the only time I ever dared to fight back."

I can feel the weight of his words, the pain and anger he must have carried for so long. I squeeze his hand again, urging him to go on.

"He’d already taken his anger out on me, and I thought his cruelty was over.” His gaze is distant and unseeing, and fear flashes there as if he’s reliving the moment. “Stacey had upset him somehow. He hit her. Then he hit her again and again. So fucking hard her eyes rolled back in her head, and I thought...I thought he was going to kill her.”

“Oh my god, Damien.”

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