Page 45 of The Reaper's Vow
“She's mine.”
Before Anselm can respond, the dining room doors burst open. A wolf I don't recognize rushes in, his face flushed withurgency. He whispers something in Anselm's ear that makes the Alpha's expression harden into granite.
“Excuse me,” Anselm says, rising from his seat with fluid grace that belies the tension in his shoulders. “It seems there's been an incident at the southern border. We'll continue this...discussion another time.”
He leaves without another word, the messenger trailing behind him. The moment the doors close, Damien's hand clamps around my wrist.
“We're leaving. Now.”
“But we haven't finished—” Matthew begins, half-rising from his chair.
“We're done here,” Damien snarls, positioning his body between me and the brothers. “Touch her, look at her, even think about her, and I'll finish what I started with your throat.”
I let him guide me toward the door, putting much needed distance between me and Elias’s brothers.
“If you fail to seal the deal, she'll be mine for the taking,” Matthew calls after us.
I feel Damien's grip tighten on my arm as he guides me through the ornate hallways. I struggle to keep pace with his long strides, practically jogging to avoid being dragged.
“Damien, slow down,” I hiss, trying to wrench my arm free. “You're hurting me.”
He stops so abruptly I nearly crash into his back. When he turns to face me, his face is almost unreadable.
“Did you mean it?” he demands.
I swallow hard. “I don't know. It just came out. They were looking at me like I was prey, and I?—”
“Needed protection,” he finishes, disappointment bleeding through our connection. “So, it was self-preservation, not desire.”
Truthfully, I don’t know why I said it. I know nothing about this world—or about him. But faced with the choice between Damien or one of Anselm’s prick sons, I’d rather bind myself to the devil I half know than to the one who clearly wants me as a trophy to lord over Damien.
“Not entirely,” I admit. The words scrape out of me like broken glass. “I meant...I don’t know what I meant. But when they looked at me like that, every instinct I had screamed to choose you.”
“Choose me over what? Over being tied to a stranger?” His laugh is sharp, hollow. “That’s not the same aswantingme, kitten.”
“Isn’t it?” I step closer, pulled by the ache bleeding through our connection. “You think I don’t feel this pull between us? You think I don’t know exactly what you did to me this morning—what you made me feel?”
“Feeling good when I touch you isn’t the same thing,” he growls, though he doesn’t retreat. If anything, he closes the distance. “Pleasure is fleeting. The bond is forever.”
“You think I don’t know that.”
“I’m honestly not sure what you’re thinking, Karina. You’re hot. You’re cold.” He pauses with a deep breath. “Look. I know this is a lot to understand, but you’re in it now, whether you like it or not. What can I do to make this better for you?”
I fall silent, weighing my options as I stare at him. My wolf paces restlessly beneath my skin, pushing me toward him even as my human half tries to maintain distance.
“If you're it for me, then we need to get to know each other.”
A slow smile curves his mouth, transforming those severe, chiseled features into something devastatingly handsome. “After this morning, kitten, I'm pretty sure I know you pretty well already.” The rough growl in his words vibrates through me, making my insides clench. “Every inch of you.”
Need coils low in my belly. “No,” I insist. “I mean about you. I didn’t even know you were an alpha in the making, or that your father was arranging a mating for you.”
The smile fades, replaced by a guarded wariness. “We haven’t exactly had time to sit down and exchange histories,” he says. “Between people trying to kidnap you, my marking you, and Anselm’s little breakfast ambush, small talk hasn’t exactly been a priority.”
“Then that’s what I want,” I tell him.
“Fine. But not here.” Damien’s hand finds mine, his grip warm and firm, and he tugs me forward. His pace is relentless, pulling me along like a current I can’t resist until we’re outside, the crisp air cooling the flush in my cheeks.
He heads straight for his cabin. The moment we’re inside, he shuts the door with a decisive thud and gestures toward the couch.
