He touches my hair and runs his fingers down my cheek. “Anything.”
I nod at Bunny, who is leaving the room. “Be nice to him. Things got complicated.”
He smirks. “He’s one of us. Don’t worry.”
“That’s exactly why I am worried. It’s not like you guys are easy on one another.”
He leans down and kisses me on the forehead. “You got it, Your Highness.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He nods and heads for the door, but the glint in his eyes says this is just the beginning.
Of so many amazing things.
40
Morgan
Recovery comes slow. Not just for my body but for my mind. For the harem and the new people that have entered our group. There’s a different feel to the house, with it being so crowded, but it’s also nice having people around that understand what you’ve been through—people who willingly fought by your side.
Hildi still occupies the guest room—not wanting to go back to the apartment she shared with Andi. I like having her here, having another woman in the house. My ravens are amazing, but a friend who is just a friend with zero complications? It’s a gift.
The men—the fighters that joined our army—they’ve camped out in the basement, near the training room. Davis and Sue created bedrooms down there. They keep to themselves for the most part but I’ve seen them come and go from Dylan’s room. Negotiations are in progress. They aren’t slaves, Dylan told me. But they are caught in a bit of transition. Where do they go from here? And how does he make sure they’ve adjusted to modern ways?
I’ve taken to writing again. About the Otherside and the Morrigan. I’ve shown some of my work to Professor Christensen, who thinks it should be documented. Maybe. I just like feeling the normalcy of pen on paper again.
There’s a knock on my door, firm and quick. I lay my journal on the window seat and cross the room. I open the door and find Damien on the other side, leaning one arm against the frame. He’s wearing low-slung black jeans and a long-sleeved gray shirt. A thin strip of his lower belly peeks out. My eyes linger on the scattering of hair that travels below.
When I look at his face, my heart pitter-patters. His eyebrow is raised.
“Hey,” I say, happy to see him. His smile in return confirms he’s been looking forward to our meetup as well.
I spot a fresh tattoo on his arm depicting the fight with the Morrigan. I reach for his arm and run my fingers down the ink. The heat and electricity between us crackles.
Yeah, there’s that.
In the dark place, when I was consumed by the Morrigan’s waste, the Shaman tried to tell me something. The pearl. That is the light inside of me. It wasn’t gone—just overwhelmed by the Darkness. I didn’t lose that. I carry it with me—the tiny piece of the goddess that lives inside. That piece. It burns with hope. With love.
I hold Damien’s violet eye.
And a little bit of lust.
I still need these men to balance me. They’re my mates.
He holds up his hand and shows me a sleek black helmet. “Want to go for a ride?”
“I’d love to.”
I grab my boots and slide them over my jeans. Damien comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. His lips find my throat and he showers me with warm kisses.
He spins me around and pushes my hair out of my eyes. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Thank you,” I say, kissing him on the mouth. “I’m glad you came back for me.”
He smirks. “There was never a chance of that not happening, babe.”
“Need me too much?” I ask.