After a beat, Damon spun on his heel and marched straight for Kinsey. He cupped her cheeks, scanning her eyes. "Are you really okay?"
She nodded as best as she could with his hands holding her head. She had been tempted to cancel tonight, because she had not been okay earlier and all she wanted to do was cry and eat ice cream on the couch, but she was glad she came. He calmed all her nerves. Wrapped her in a blanket of security. Everything just felt right when she was with him.
Gently, he lifted her injured arm and lightly trailed his fingers over the discoloration. "You're positive you don't remember the bastard who did this to you?"
"There were too many. It could have been any of them, Damon."
He winced, eyes pained. "I'm sorry for being so demanding earlier. I just. . . when he saw the bruise. . ." When his wolf saw the bruise. "It was my fault you got hurt, Kinsey."
She laughed at that. Couldn't help it. "It is far from being your fault, Damon. Next time Carissa tells me we're going to the East Side, I'm going to give her a flat no."
"Next time she invites you to the East Side, you tell me. Or if anyone else at the office tries to coerce you into something."
"Deal."
He bent and kissed her sweetly. When he broke away, he smiled down at her wound. Even from a featherlight kiss, it began to ebb away. Very slowly. "There'll be more where that came from. We need to make sure you're healed properly. And thoroughly."
She flushed.
Damon led her to the kitchen, lifting her off the floor to sit on the counter while he prepped the promised steaks.
"So, Dayton's your brother," she stated, watching him in fascination. She couldn't believe he was as hot as he was, had as much money as he did, was the most loving man in her world, and could cook. "He seems nice."
Damon rolled his eyes, gathering a collection of spices and a pan. "Dayton is a prick. Don't flatter him."
"He did seem a little hesitant to approve of me." She'll give him that much, but she understood his resistance. In a way. He was only protecting Damon, and after the way other shifters had reacted to the Corporation, she wasn't surprised. "He loves you. I can see that. He wanted to make sure I'm good enough for you."
He fixed her with a soft glower. "If anything, I'm not good enough for you." A shadow darkened his eyes, looming over his thoughts, cruel and wanting. It was only there for a moment then he was smiling at her again. "He likes you, by the way."
She screwed her face up at him. "I doubt that."
"He respects you," he corrected. "Not many people stand up to him. Like, ever. It's good for him to earn someone's respect every now and again. It can't be given all the time."
"Why do people give it? Because he's your brother?"
She was curious about the pack's dynamic. From what she could tell so far, Damon was the leader, one everyone looked up to, but he didn't call all the shots. She'd seen some people look to Kalem for answers as well--she could see people doing the same for Dayton too. Were they given this power by Damon or did they have to earn their positions like Damon had?
He lit up the gas stove then turned to her, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the counter. "Dayton used to be the strongest in the pack. He had a reputation for being a ruthless bastard. You don't fuck with Dayton Hayes if you want to keep your limbs where you like them."
"What happened?" He still seemed like someone you didn't want to mess with, but Damon made it seem like Dayton had been far more terrifying. Sure, he wasn't as big as Damon, but you didn't need to be as jacked as a mountain to intimidate someone.
Damon let out a long breath, the only sound in the air was the butter sizzling on the cast iron. He kept his gaze on the gas stove, knuckles white.
She didn't push him. Clearly this was a touchy subject for more than Dayton.
"I used to have three brothers," he confessed quietly. "We don't like to talk about it. Dayton was there when Carter. . ." He let the sentense hang in the air like a lead weight. His face twisted into a visage of pain and hate. Regret. "He hasn't been the same since. None of us have, really."
"I'm sorry." She wanted to know more about him, his family, but she wished it didn't hurt him.
He shrugged, turning to her with a lopsided smile. "It's not your fault. How can it be? You weren't even born yet. Your grandparents probably hadn't even hit puberty."
She blinked, let that sink in, then blinked again. "I'm sorry, how old are you?" She never thought to ask. He looked maybe five years older than her.
"I'm a hundred and forty-three. Still want to go out with me?"
She laughed. There was nothing else to do. Of all the things she had learned, had seen, these past few days, this was what got her, what had her laughing until her stomach hurt. Of all the things, this was the hardest for her to grasp.
"Okay, you're laughing way too much. Try this for me, will you?" Damon pulled out a tray of mini quiches from the fridge and stuffed one in her mouth.
Her laughter turned into a deep moan. "This is delicious!" She covered her mouth as she mumbled around it. "Did you make these?" She slowly reached for another quiche, half expecting him to swat her like her mother did with a scolding remark about her weight.
He slid the tray closer to her. "If you want to fill up on quiches before you taste what else I have in store for you, go ahead. Fill up."
Hmm. He drove a hard bargain.
She settled with one more quiche. "Seriously, these are amazing. I would know. My mom has won competitions making quiches--and yours are better."
He flashed a proud smile. "If you love these, you would have loved my mom's. It's her recipe, but I can never quite get the same consistency as her. She would have made endless batches just for you." His smiled faltered. "She loved baking for us. Eating her treats was the only time my brothers and I weren't bickering or causing mischief for her."
"She sounds like a good mom." She pictured his brothers sitting around the table, sharing a quiche--or maybe, considering how much Damon ate, having an entire quiche to themselves--while she looked on them from the kitchen with a smile. Kinsey had always wished for a family like that.
Damon's hand slipped to her thigh, caressing the top roughly but tenderly; he seemed to be trying to console her more than himself. "Don't be sad. I don't mind talking about her with you. She was an amazing mom. She would have loved you."
"Do you think?" She wished she could say the same about her own mother. The look of disgust she gave him at the gala still haunted her.
He nodded. "Oh, yes." He chuckled when a thought crossed his mind. "She told me once that if I found a nice girl who can tolerate me and my wolf, I should never let her go."
She smiled at that. She sounded like a wise woman, who loved her boys very much. It was a crime that she had been taken away from them.
"You mentioned you lost your parents. Can I ask . .?"
"It's not a nice story," he warned softly, using the same words she had used when he asked about her past.
She grazed her fingers over the top of his hand. "Hey, you know my sad story. The least you can do is tell me some of yours."
He regarded her, gauging how much he should tell her, if she was ready to hear about his past. She wanted to hear it all, the good and the bad. "We used to live further up north in the Yukon," he offered. "I was twenty-three when Canada put up bounties for wolves."
The breath left her lungs. She was familiar with wolf culling; she wrote a paper on it for school. Over twelve thousand wolves were killed in 1935. Wolves to this day were still culled. Now they were endangered everywhere but in the Northern Rockies.
"It was too dangerous for us to shift," Damon continued, determined to tell her now. "Many of our friends were picked off during their hunts. We tried to deny our animal half, but it becomes painful. Carter was too young for his wolf to have grown in, but Dayton, Camen, and myself had recently come into our wolves. We hadn't mastered the beast yet, and holding them in was unbearably painful.
"We were grocery shopping when Camen shifted by the deli. The scent of meat drove his wolf wild. We managed to convince him to shift back before he hurt anyone--but it was already too late. People had seen him turn into a wolf. This was before cameras and the Internet, but there were already rumours circulating through town that certain families could turn into wolves. The town had decided that they would be hunted too.
"We left everything behind. They hunted us down on horses. My mother was carrying Carter when she was shot. She could have lived--a gunshot is nothing to us--but she realised that we weren't going to make it out without a distraction. She shoved Carter into my arms and told me to look after my brothers. My father stayed with her until the end, fought until we were far enough away to escape." He paused, staring ahead at nothing in particular. His mind was far away.
"At night, when the city is quiet, I can hear my father's final howl, the moment he lost his mate. There is nothing more painful than the loss of a mate. I've been told it's like someone ripping a piece of your soul out of your chest." He snapped out of his trance to find Kinsey's teary face; at least she hadn't worn makeup this evening. He lifted his thumb and wiped her tears away. "Sorry. I got carried away. I haven't really told anyone what happened before."
She sniffled and tucked her hair behind her ears. "Thank you for sharing with me. I'm sorry you had to go through that."
He shrugged, eyes warm when he looked at her. "That's one of the many reasons why I became an Alpha--to protect my people."
"That's very noble of you. If it means anything, I'm proud of you for coming so far. I'm sure your parents would be too."
A shadow of a smile touched his lips. "I think they would be too. You know, what happened to them was horrible and there will be a part of me that will never recover from it, but it's times like that that makes you grateful for what you have." When his eyes locked onto hers, the world around them fell away. It was just them and the unyielding passion burning in his gaze.
He stepped forward, parting her legs with his hips, and crashed his mouth against hers. She moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck. He was demanding of the kiss, tongue diving into her mouth and making it his own. Her lips were already swelling from the pressure. She loved it when he kissed her with fervor like this, but they were in the kitchen for a reason. . . .
"Damon. . . the food."
He tangled his fingers in her hair, holding her against him. There was no chance of her getting away from him. "I haven't started yet. It can wait. I'm hungry for something a little more sweet."
Grabbing her rear, he yanked her to the end of the counter, pressing his erection against the most sensitive part of her. She gripped his shoulders, her body already alight with need. He had been gentle with her previously, as to not scare her, but he held nothing back this time. Caught up in this wave of fervent desire, she returned the pressure, clawing at his shirt. The damned thing fought against her.
Chuckling at her frustration, he pulled back enough to slip his shirt over his head, tossing it into the living room. He then made quick work of her shirt and bra, capturing her nipple with his teeth. She arched back, a tremor of pleasure wracking through her.
He had spent the weekend learning every part of her--what made her tick--and now he used it against her, sucking, grinding, and nibbling until she couldn't take it anymore.
"Damon, please!"
His grip tightened on her rear then he lifted her briefly, tugging on her leggings, freeing each leg. He knelt, kissing the inside of her leg, climbing ever so slowly up to her center.
His eyes glowed wickedly. His tongue grazed over her sensitive bud. She leaned back on the counter, propping her legs on his shoulders, and lost herself in the ecstasy of his touch. And when he bit down, she tipped over the edge and cried out his name.
As she came down, he stood before her, releasing his hard cock from his briefs. He pulled her upright, tying his arms around her, and entered her in one slow thrust, eliciting another wave of tremors through her body.
"You're so hot when you're wild and free like this," he breathed huskily in her ear. He drove into her again. "I've never wanted a woman more in my life."
As if to emphasize his desire, he somehow grew bigger, stretching her further. She moaned, tightening her grip on him.
Could this man be any more perfect? He was kind, tender, he cooked, and he was fucking amazing at making her come. She was on a fast track to falling in love with him and was weirdly okay with it. She thought giving in to her desires would terrify her, but she felt more liberated by it. She had Damon to thank for that.
He withdrew from her then slammed into her, hard and fast. Kinsey's head spun, on the verge of another climax. She rocked her hips, urging him on, begging for a release. With a wicked smile, he pulled back slowly again then thrust deep inside her. It hurt, but it seemed to only intesify everything he did to her further. He kept the rhythm, slowly out, fast in. His mouth moved down to her throat; he bit down just on the crook, beneath any neckline she wore.
She exploded inside, coming undone into a million little pieces. He drew out her orgasam, picking up the pace and roaring until his hot seed filled her.
While she caught her breath, he held her gaze. It was intense, almost possessive in the way he looked at her.
You're mine. He didn't say it. Didn't have to. With a heated look like that, she felt it, as ridiculous as that sounded. She was a scientist, needed empirical proof; she didn't go by feeling. Yet, she couldn't shake this feeling that she was the only woman for him, which sounded even crazier because she definitely knew she wasn't. He was a hundred forty-three years old; there had been many women before her and there would be many after her.
As if reading her thoughts, Damon cupped her cheek and kissed her sweetly. He'd never kissed her with such gentle tenderness. She could melt in his arms.
Except her stomach growled.
Smiling, he pulled back and chucked her chin. "You have the appetite of a shifter."
She flushed, embarrassed her stomach had ruined the beautiful moment. "I, huh. . ."
"Don't you dare apologize." He lifted her off the counter, setting her on her feet. "Go clean up. I'll start on dinner."
She bent to pick up her clothes, but he stopped her with a chaste slap on her bottom.
"Leave them. There's something in the bathroom for you to wear around my house."
Afraid of this garment and the deliciously satisfied grin on his face, Kinsey went to the bathroom. She found a t-shirt hanging on the door, one of his by the size and smell of it.
Her heart turned to mush.
He could have asked her to wear something crazy sexy and uncomfortable with too many straps she wouldn't know what to do with or something so flimsy she might as well not be wearing anything to begin with. Both she would have worn without complaint. But he knew she liked t-shirts and wanted her to be comfortable. She didn't need getups to be sexy.
She quickly cleaned up in the shower and slipped into the simple black shirt. The bamboo was cool and soft against her skin, making her nipples stand at attention. She followed the scent of searing steaks back to the kitchen. Damon had set up the table with candles and a single rose and was now doing the final touches on dinner. He stopped what he was doing and guided her over to one of the chairs, taking a slow appreciative appraisal of her attire.
"This is amazing, how did you do this all so quickly?"
He rolled his eyes at her tone. "No shifter tricks here. Purely pre-planning. I made most of this before you came. All I needed to do was cook the steaks."
"You're incredible."
"I'm only trying to keep up with you." He kissed the top of her head then rushed to finish up in the kitchen. "Lookin' good in that shirt, by the way. Too bad it won't last long."
"No?"
"I've given you a tour of the kitchen, but there are still a few rooms to go. Eat while you can, because there will be very few breaks later."
She liked the sound of his plans for the rest of the night, but she wasn't going to let any of the food he had prepared for her go to waste. It looked beyond delicious and she had worked up quite an appetite.