Page 70 of Blood Magic (Ariel Kimber 3)

He sighed, and I felt him moving around. I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye and was surprised to see he’d copied me. His back was now flat on the bed and his eyes were aimed at my dreamcatcher.

I laid my hands on my bare stomach and waited. I knew he had something to say after that sigh he’d let out. I could wait him out.

He didn’t make me wait long.

“You didn’t like the clothes,” he said in a tired voice. “Julian warned me. The twins warned me. Hell, even Quinton warned me, and he usually lets me go my own way.”

I found that last bit curious. Quinton didn’t seem the type to let anyone go their own way. Why Damien, of all people? I didn’t know, but I felt it important to remember this moment and what he’d just said. Quinton did everything for a reason. I made a mental note to ask him about Damien. I knew next to nothing about Damien and his past. He was a mystery to me.

“If you really don’t like them, I can take them back,” Damien said in soft voice.

I turned my head to the side and stared at him, not getting it. After all we’d just gone through? All I needed to do was tell him I didn’t like the clothes he’d gotten for me and he would return them? But they’d gone through all that trouble to shop for them and I had no idea how many hours that had taken out of their lives and I wasn’t sure I honestly wanted them to tell me. Then, they had been thoughtful enough to go to Quint’s storage unit and find me something to put it all in. I had no idea how much time and effort they’d spent on that task, either. Then, they’d gone and hauled it all up here to my room where they’d endured my attitude with grace while I’d tried the majority of it on. I know, I know, this last part hadn’t really been my idea, but I was trying to be nice here. They’d even gone to the trouble to put everything away.

I know I’d whined about the entire thing, even before I’d tried the first thing on, and half of the things I didn’t even like and had no intention of wearing. I supposed it no longer mattered, though. They were in my closet and my drawers now, that made them mine. The least I could do was keep them.

“No,” I muttered, sounding defeated to my own ears. “I don’t exactly hate them. I mean, I don’t love all of them, and I’m certain there are a whole lot of things I will never wear, but I would like to keep them. If that’s okay with you? You can take them back, if you want to, but that seems dumb to me and a serious waste of your time.”

His lips twitched, and I fought the urge to elbow him in the ribs.

This conversation was getting us nowhere and real fast.

“Is your cooking really deadly?” I asked him before I could stop myself. This wasn’t me giving up Julian because the twins had claimed Damien’s food would kill someone.

Unbelievably, his cheeks tinted with pink.

His hands tugged at the collar of his shirt, nervously, as he blew out a deep breath.

“No one has died yet,” he muttered sounding embarrassed.

A laugh burst out of me. I covered my hand with my mouth, trying to stop it but it did me no good.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled through my hand and the laughter I was trying to suppress.

He pursed his lips and closed his eyes. I stopped laughing. I didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was.

“If it’s that bad, then why do you keep doing it and making other people eat it?” I asked.

“When I was little,” he said, “my mother used to love to cook. It was the only thing she ever did when she came around. I used to sit in the kitchen and watch her. She’d never let me touch anything and only let me stay if I promised not to get in her way or speak at all. I took it because it was the only time I ever really got to see her. She never stuck around for very long when she came back. I was usually left with the servants.”

I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of his voice. I had never heard Damien talk so much.

“I guess it calms me,” he said. “Everyone has something that relaxes them. Reading a book, watching television, working out, running, shopping, those are all things I enjoy doing. But they don’t relax me or help clear my head. I could have a million things going on, clogging up my head space with horrible thoughts and worry, and the only way I can ever get rid of it is by losing myself in cooking. And I think I’m only capable of loosing myself in it because it’s the only time I let myself think about my mother. I used to run for hours, trying to escape the things in my head, and it never worked. I love running. It makes me feel good about myself. But I can’t do it without music, without my headphones in and the music really loud in my ears. Otherwise my thoughts would ruin it for me and make it so I wouldn’t want to run anymore…”

Damien was rambling, but I didn’t mind because his voice was lulling me to sleep. Before it fully sucked me under, I realized that he might be rambling because I made him as nervous as he made me. My lips curled up in a tiny smile at that thought, then I was out.

The next thing I knew, Quinton was looming over me, telling me to wake up.

“Get dressed,” Quinton growled. “We have to go. Now.”

He walked away without telling me where we were going.

I wasn’t surprised, but I was annoyed.

Damien had disappeared while I was sleeping. I was sad to see him gone.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“What is this place that we’re going to?” I asked in a quiet voice.

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