Page 41 of Daman
Nikolai had included a library in the design, along with shelves upon shelves of books, some I had read and others I hadn’t.
“You like this room, huh?” Daman asked. “It’s the first sign of life I’ve seen on your face this whole time.”
Words failed me—as they so often did—and I averted my gaze to the floor.
“Do you have a Kindle?” He browsed the shelves.
“No.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
He looked at me over his shoulder. “Is it because you didn’t want to spend the money on yourself?” When I didn’t respond, he smiled. “Thought so.”
As we left the library and walked through the rest of the cottage, I paid close attention to him. The stroll through the forest had brought out the earthy scent of his skin, and his brown hair curled at the ends from the cold air and snowflakes that had dampened the strands.
When we reached the master bedroom, Daman stopped and stared at the king-sized bed. My pulse quickened, and my mouth got suddenly dry. A decorative bowl sat on the bedside table, holding an assortment of condoms and various bottles of lube, some of them scented.
“I’ll build a fire,” I said, going over to the fireplace. Though my cheeks were so hot it felt like the fire was already burning.
Daman crossed his arms, not moving from his spot. “Aren’t you supposed to burn a yule log on the night of the solstice?”
“Yes.” Someone had already placed one in the hearth. It only needed to be lit. I closed my eyes and silently thanked the gods for all they’d bestowed on us that day and prayed that those blessings would continue for another year before lighting the log and standing back up.
Daman opened the chest of drawers. “Cool. They unpacked our clothes too.” He grabbed a pair of his boxer briefs, sweats, and a shirt before walking toward the connecting bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower.”
He shut the door once inside.
I shakily exhaled before grabbing a clean change of clothes and leaving the bedroom. I went into the guest bathroom and stripped out of my uniform, folding it neatly on the counter, and stepped into the shower. I quickly washed, dried off, and dressed before returning to the bedroom.
Running water sounded from the bathroom as he showered, and my heart pounded harder at the thought of him naked under the spray, droplets of water running down his soft skin and toned muscles.
I sat on top of the covers and focused on my breathing, trying my best not to look at the bowl on the nightstand. It acted as a reminder for just how inexperienced I was.
When the water shut off, the little progress I’d made at controlling my heartbeat was lost as it kicked into overdrive, pounding so hard against my ribs I wondered if they’d crack. The hair dryer turned on, and minutes later, Daman walked out wearing sweats that hung low on his narrow hips and a shirt that rode up a bit as he scratched the back of his head, showing a peek of his tanned belly.
Desire built inside me. I had known the moment I’d first met Daman that he was special. I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off him.
I still couldn’t.
“I’m not used to seeing you look so casual,” he said, nearing the bed on the side opposite mine and reclining backward once hopping on top of it. “You sit the same though. Spine straight and muscles all tensed up. Do you ever relax?”
“I am relaxed.” I glanced down at myself before meeting his stare again, confused.
“Yeah, and I’m really a brown-furred sable.”
The tips of my ears tingled. He was poking fun at me.
“I saw a bed in the guest room earlier,” he said. “I can stay in there if you don’t want me sleeping with you.”
There went my heart again, a collection of frenzied beats. “I don’t mind you staying.”
“This is weird, right? We barely know each other, and now we’re married and living under the same roof.”
“Many marriages are like this among my kind. It’s not weird to me.”
Daman spread his legs and bent one up, resting his elbow on his knee. It drew my attention to his crotch, and I felt like I’d just submerged myself in a pit of hot oil. One small spark was all it would take to set me on fire.
