Page 29 of Daman
“We aren’t really single though, are we?” Daman poured himself another drink before sitting in the armchair beside the fireplace. He hadn’t joined any of the games that night, but he’d watched us play. “Bachelor parties are for guys who want to fuck strippers and make asses of themselves one last time before settling down. They’re loud and obnoxious. Hard pass.”
“I enjoyed my bachelor party,” Nikolai said, shuffling the cards. “And I assure you, there were no strippers. Kira would’ve skinned me alive.”
“Sounds boring.” Bellamy took another puff on the cigar. “Strippers make everything better.”
“Ignore him,” Raiden said. “Bell is a lustful creature who couldn’t keep it in his pants even if ya paid him.”
“That’s because money doesn’t appeal to me,” Bellamy countered. “Sex, on the other hand… nothing beats getting fucked into oblivion.”
“Hey, I’m eating.” Gray shot him a glare that looked more adorable than intimidating. He was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, and nibbling on one of the sandwiches Armen had made for us.
In the four hours we’d been in the parlor, Gray had taken two naps—each lasting about twenty minutes. It was difficult to picture him as a warrior who fought demons. What happened if he fell asleep during the fight? From a commander’s perspective, he was a liability and not fit for combat.
“Is Kira your only wife?” Castor asked.
“Yes,” Nikolai responded. “My father had six wives, but I knew Kira was the only one for me as soon as I laid eyes on her.”
“My brother has seven wives,” Kyo said before gently bumping Castor’s arm. “One husband is enough for me though. This one’s too much of a handful as it is.”
“You like it.” Castor grinned. “And I’d say I’m two handfuls at least.”
Gray set his sandwich aside and curled up on the cushion, his eyelids getting heavy again.
“Will King Tatsuya be joining us tomorrow?” Nikolai asked. “I invited him to the wedding.”
“He’ll be here.” Kyo grabbed Castor’s cigar and pressed it to his lips, inhaling the smoke before releasing it. Castor’s eyes darkened as he looked at his mate’s mouth. “It was kind of you to extend an invitation.”
“But of course.”
Armen knocked before entering the room with another tray. “Pardon the intrusion, but I madepelmeni.”
“What’s that?” Simon asked. He had played poker in the beginning but quickly lost all of his chips, much to Galen’s amusement.
“Meat-filled dumplings,” Armen answered.
“Dude. Count me in.” Raiden’s gaze zeroed in on the platter. “I need that in my belly.”
“I shouldn’t, but that sounds really good.” Simon adjusted his glasses. The action drew my attention to the forefinger on his left hand. It had been cut off.
“You’re eating some,” Galen told him, and Simon flashed a shy smile.
Galen hadn’t talked much that evening. He was a lot like me in that regard. He sat back and observed the room, speaking when spoken to but not carrying the conversation. We felt like kindred spirits.
Nikolai, Bellamy, Castor, Kyo, and I played another round of Russian Poker while Raiden and Simon ate the dumplings. Galen stared out the window of the parlor, arm around his mate’s shoulders. Soft snores reached my ears as Gray slept on the couch.
After the round ended, I excused myself from the table. Daman sat to the side of us, legs pulled up into the chair as he sipped the vodka and ambrosia concoction. His seventh drink that evening? I’d lost count.
“Mind if I sit?” I motioned to the vacant chair beside him.
“Sure.” He took another sip, eyes not meeting mine. I sat down. “Isn’t it tradition that we’re not supposed to see each other the night before the wedding?”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No,” he quickly said before turning his face away from me. “I mean, you can leave if you want to. I don’t care either way.”
Somehow, I knew he was lying. He didn’t want me to go.
“I’m right where I want to be.”
