“You’ve lived for a long time, Damon. I could feel it in my dream. The earth was still wild. Did you find more mates?”
“Wives, not mates. Humans. My first three, I buried when they were old and gray, but my fourth took her own life early. She couldn’t stand aging while I stayed the same. I didn’t look for companionship after that. The other women I found to bear offspring when my dragon craved family were nothing more than business transactions. I couldn’t risk getting attached to anyone again. Everyone I’ve ever known has died, and eventually, it was easier to be alone than to attach to people who disappear in the blink of an eye.”
She pressed her lips against the uneven skin on his chest. “That sounds like a shit deal.”
Damon snorted. “Thank you. I’m pretty sick of everyone thinking I’ve lucked into living forever. It’s not lucky. Immortality is a curse.” He plucked at a strand of her damp hair with his lips. “I would give anything to grow old and gray beside you.”
“We’d make a fucking hot pair of elderly people.”
He laughed a relieved sound, but she needed to know the rest. She needed to know what happened after Feyadine’s death before he shut down on her again.
“What happened to Marcus’s people? What happened to the Blackwings?”
Damon’s lip twitched, and his eyes went cold and dead. “It turns out he had his sites on being the last immortal dragon. He killed all of his own people.”
“Oh, my gosh. How could he do such a thing?”
“He fancied himself a god. He wanted to rule the earth without opposition.”
“And your scars?”
“Dragon’s fire is the only thing that can kill another dragon. I went to war with Marcus to avenge Feyadine and all of our people. I burned him up and left his carcass for the vultures to roost on. I buried my people in these mountains eons ago, and from that day on, this land was mine. These mountains are my treasure. I failed to protect my people, but I’ve protected their final resting place and will continue to do so until the end of time.”
Heart aching, Clara snuggled her cheek against the burn marks on his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck. Damon wasn’t some cold, emotionless dragon. He was a man, and a shifter just like her who’d had to find a way to survive something horrific. Something he could never escape. He’d felt everything so deeply for so long, he’d shut down out of self-preservation. Loyal, fearsome, protective dragon. Feyadine had done a number on his heart with her betrayal, and what had happened afterward would’ve brought other men to their knees. But he’d risen up and gone to war to avenge the people he’d loved.
And now here he was, fighting to protect the land that his people had died on all those centuries ago.
Damon was right that something bigger than both of them was happening, but she wasn’t afraid anymore. If he could be so brave for all this time, she could stand strong beside him until they figured out what had caused them to cross paths like this.
She’d respected other men in her life. She’d been lucky to have time with Charles and Daniel, but what she had with Damon was turning out to be so much different. So much more. For the first time in her life, she knew what it was to love a man.
She wouldn’t admit it to him out loud for fear of him shutting down again, but she gave a private smile at what she’d found here in Damon’s mountains.
For the first time in a long time, she felt like she belonged.
Chapter Nine
Clara shimmied her hips to the sound of the song she had stuck in her head, did a little spin, and plopped a thick slice of provolone cheese onto the sandwich she was making.
Damon had to work today, but he’d told her at breakfast this morning he’d let his chef have some time off so he could cook for her. It still blew her mind that he enjoyed taking care of her so much. She’d been the caregiver in her crew, nurturing Charles and Daniel any time they had a week off of the rig, so the dynamic was so different here. She was repaying Damon’s sweet affection and the delicious food he’d been cooking for her by making them lunch—a pair of sandwiches stacked high with meats, cheeses, and vegetables, just like she’d seen on television. Even the bread was fancy and had to be sliced directly from the fragrant loaf.
There had been so many happy, eye-opening moments since their break-down in the shower yesterday, and one of those was that she hadn’t had a single headache in an entire day. Not one. And she couldn’t get over the giddy sensation that everything was going to be okay. The visions, dreams, coincidences…all of it. Damon was still wary, but she couldn’t shake the growing feeling that perhaps the point of all of this was that she and Damon met, and some cosmic unbalance was reset by them finding each other.
She turned around and startled to a stop, dropping a slice of roast beef onto the tile floor with a tiny splat.
A striking woman with dark hair, dark eyes, and the smoothest, fairest porcelain skin she’d ever seen stood in the doorway smiling at her. “Hello. Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” She approached and held out her hand. A little girl followed closely behind, gripping onto her jeans. “I’m Damon’s daughter, Diem, and this is my daughter, Harper.”
Clara’s eyes bulged wide as she hurried to wipe her hands on a napkin to shake Diem’s outstretched palm. “Oh, I would’ve dressed up and done my hair if I knew I was meeting you today. Damon’s talked about you.” Clara patted her wild hair, which did nothing but fluff it up more.
Diem’s grin grew deeper, and her dark eyes danced. “I like that you aren’t dressed up. Formal isn’t my favorite.”
Clara would definitely say she wasn’t a formal type of gal. She was wearing frayed cut-off shorts with holes that allowed her upper thighs to play peek-a-boo, and a T-shirt clung to her torso like a second skin. She and Damon were a study in opposites.
“Hi, Harper,” she said, kneeling by Diem’s legs. She offered her hand for a shake, and the little girl stepped out from behind her mother. She was perhaps four years old, and when Harper lifted a shy gaze to Clara, she stifled a gasp. Dark ringlets of shiny hair tumbled down the sides of her round cheeks, but her eyes were the real stunners. One was a soft brown color, like Diem’s, and one was blue with a long, reptilian pupil. “Ooooh, are you a little warrior dragon?” Clara asked low.
The girl smiled and nodded as she gripped her index finger and shook it.
“I love dragons.”
“What are you?”
“I’m a warrior grizzly.”
The little girl smiled bigger. “I love grizzlies.”
Clara chuckled and jerked her chin toward the counter piled high with food. “Are you hungry? I have all the sandwich stuff out still if you want to help me make one.”
“Can I make my own?”
Clara nodded decidedly. “Of course. If your mom says it’s okay.”
Diem gave her consent, and the little girl blasted off toward the sprawling pantry, only to return moments later with a little red stepstool. “Pop-Pop gave me this so I could help Chef while he’s cooking,” she explained in a squeaky little voice that made Clara want to scoop her up and cuddle her.”
Harper went to work making a sandwich and a mess of the counters, and Clara turned to Diem and asked, “Where did the name Pop-Pop come from?”
“Well, that one,” Diem said, leaning on the counter and nodding toward her daughter, “is a fire-breather like Damon. She was a little hellion when she learned she could do it, blowing flames at anyone who told her ‘no,’ so I sent her up here with Damon for a few weeks last summer, and he got her straightened right out.”
“How?”
“Fire with fire, and Harper came back a lot more cognizant that her flames hurt people and that it wasn’t okay to throw tantrums like that. Thanks to him warning her off bad behavior with a couple of warning clicks of his firestarter, she now calls him Pop-Pop.”
Clara ducked her head, laughing. “Oh gosh, I love that.”
“You look just like her,” Diem said, though her scrun
ched up nose and apologetic look said she wished she hadn’t. “I’m sorry.”
“You saw the paintings of Feyadine?”
Diem nodded once. “I grew up on stories of the dragon wars, but I thought they were all pretend. In my father’s bedtime stories, Feyadine was the dragon queen who didn’t deserve her crown.”
“Okay, it feels so weird when you call Damon Father. We look the same age!”
Diem giggled. “Strange, right? Have you met Creed?”
“Yeah, I met all of his Gray Backs, too.”
“He’s Damon’s grandson, and Rowan is his great-granddaughter.”
“Stop it.”
“I’m serious. Creed is my—he’s my nephew!” Diem had the case of the giggles right along with Clara now.
“Wait, did he tell you why I’m here?”
“No, but I can guess. Did you sign a certain contract?”
“God no, but I saw it. I negotiated everything. And then I ripped it up.”
“Good for you.”
“We are trying for a baby, though. I hope that’s not weird for you.”
“It would’ve been weird for me if you were just a breeder like my mother had been. Father is still working on payroll, but I cut out early just to meet the woman who has him in such a mood.”
“What kind of mood?”
“He’s smiled and laughed more than I’ve ever seen him do in the span of a few hours. And he’s got his jacket draped over the chair with his shirt sleeves rolled up like a total slouch.”
“Ha!” Clara clapped her hand over her mouth to soften her laughter. “You just wait, Diem. I’ll have him looking like a right proper slob in no time.”
“I heard a rumor,” Diem said low, her words dotted with giggles. “You got him to shotgun a beer? Please tell me that’s true.”
“I totally did!”
“What’s shotgunning a beer?” Harper asked from behind a sandwich she’d stacked a wobbly foot high.
“It’s the game Uncy Denison is always making the boys play when anyone uses the word ‘pivot.’”
“Oh, when they drink out of the bottom?”
“Yeeep,” Diem drawled. She turned to Clara with a wink and murmured, “We’re raising her up real classy.”
“I can see that, and I approve.” Clara studied Harper for a moment, then let her curiosity get the best of her. “Damon told me you’re a hybrid dragon. But he said dragon females…you know…”
“Don’t survive childbirth? We don’t. It’s not like with the bears who stop Changing into their animals during pregnancy. We have to force ourselves not to shift and grow weaker and weaker. I wouldn’t survive carrying a baby to term.”
“I grew in Riley’s tummy,” Harper said matter-of-factly. “I use ta be this big.” She squished her finger and thumb together.
“Oh. Maybe I should ask you about all of this some other time, in private.”
“No, don’t worry about it. We’re very open with Harper. Riley was our surrogate. She is human and had Harper without any problems, and through all of that, she became my best friend and Drew’s mate. She kind of just came in and fit right in with the rest of the Ashe Crew, and now life is unimaginable without her.”
“I get to spend the night with Riley and Drew and their new baby on Friday nights so daddy can take mommy to the movies. I give baby Bethany bottles and help Riley change her diapers.” The mayonnaise she was squirting on top of her towering sandwich made a farting sound. “She has big, smeary poops sometimes.”
“Nice,” Clara said.
“So, I was kind of nervous about meeting you, and now I super like you,” Diem admitted. She pulled a cell phone from her back pocket. “What’s your number? The crews hang out, sometimes for barbecues, sometimes down at Sammy’s Bar in Saratoga. We celebrate birthdays and holidays and all that. Usually, Father declines invitations, but I have a feeling you’ll be shaking things up around here. I’m going to call you with the invites from here on out if that’s okay.”
“Uuum, I would love that. Please do. I had so much fun meeting the Gray Backs the other night.”
“Oh, God, I don’t doubt it. Willa’s a hoot.”
Clara recited her number for Diem and helped Harper hold her sandwich steady as the little girl balanced the plate and strode unsteadily toward a round dining table off the kitchen.
When the little girl was settled, Clara finished arranging the tray of lunch for her and Damon and said her goodbyes to Diem and Harper. But just as she was about to leave the kitchen, Diem said, “Clara?”
“Hmm?” she asked, turning with the tray balanced in her hands.
“Whatever you’re doing with my father?” Diem smiled emotionally. “Keep it up. I haven’t ever seen him this happy.”
Clara’s throat clogged with emotion, and her eyes prickled and blurred. “I will. He makes me happy, too.”
She had to gather her wits and settle her emotions as she walked down the halls toward Damon’s office. If she was being honest, she’d been nervous about meeting Damon’s family, too, but that had gone better than she could’ve imagined. Diem was easy to talk to and already felt like a friend. And little Harper was sharp as a tack. No doubt in her mind, she would grow up to be a strong dragon female like her mother and definitely not mousey like Feyadine had been.
In a daze, she meandered in through the office door and nearly melted under Damon’s greeting smile. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal his muscular, sexy, burn-scarred forearms, and his top button was undone at his throat. And there were those dimples she adored.
“There she is,” he rumbled as he set his pen down and leaned back in his leather office chair, hands linked behind his head.
“I brought you lunch,” she said unnecessarily, as if he couldn’t see the sandwiches stacked to her chin.
“Good, I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving.”
“I have a big machine to feed.”
“Yeah, about that. I heard from the Gray Backs you’ve eaten their enemies.”
Damon’s smile lingered as he shrugged unapologetically. “No one messes with my mountains.”
“And the crews are a part of these mountains now, aren’t they?”
The smile dipped from his lips. “They feel like a part of me.”
“Cold dragon,” she murmured, lifting her chin high. “Warmed to the core by a bunch of rowdy lumberjack werebears. Out of curiosity,” she asked, setting one of the giant sandwiches onto the space he was clearing on his desk. “Does it bother you that Rowan and Harper are being raised in trailer parks?”
“Not at all. Their lives are richer for their living situations. They have crews that have linked up like bonded families. They live at the center of the most lethal predator shifters in the world, who would die protecting them, and they are being raised by crews who love them unconditionally. I’m proud of Diem and of Creed for building a life like that for their children. I’d rather them live in the Asheland Mobile Park and the Grayland Mobile Park than here. I raised Diem here, and her life lacked…warmth. It’s something I regret.”
Pride filled her that Damon wasn’t just some rich billionaire dragon pulling the strings of his family like they were his puppets. This man wanted full lives for the people he loved. She respected him more for his answer.
“I met Diem and Harper in the kitchen.”
“I knew they weren’t cutting out early on payroll day without a reason. I figured they were off to track you down. Diem was very curious about you.”
“I like them indescribably much. Diem got my number.” She lifted her shoulders to her ears happily. “I’m making friends.”
Damon looked genuinely happy as he gestured her to him. She sidled around the desk and sank into his lap. A giggle escaped her lips as he nipped at her neck, just under her ear.
“I knew you would fit in here. You have a warm personality. You weren’t meant to be alone, Clara.”
“I don’t feel alone anymore.”
“Mmm,” he said, more rumble than word. “Stay with me.” His words came out rushed, and when she tried to ease away from his affection to look him in the eyes, he held her tighter in a hug against him. “Stay with me,” he repeated slower and lower.
“Of course, I will. We’re trying for a baby, remember?”
“No, I mean after that. I had this awful thought yesterday in the shower. I know it’s wrong, but for a split second, I thought, I hope it takes us a long time to get pregnant.”
“Damon, don’t put that into the universe.”
“I know. I know it’s bad. But I know you’ll move to Saratoga with the baby, and I don’t want you to go. I know this is fast, but I don’t want you to leave me. I want to co-parent with you here.”
“Wait, are you asking me to move in?” she asked, shocked to her bones.
“No. Yes. I don’t know. I haven’t done this before. I just get this…” Another rattling growl vibrated against her skin, and he crushed her to him harder. “I just get this awful feeling when I think about you living in Saratoga away from me.”
“Who is possessive now?” she teased.
“Me.”
With a frown, she whispered, “Hey.” Cupping his cheeks, she lifted his gaze to hers as she eased back. His eyes were silver where they’d been dark just moments ago. “I’m okay. Nothing’s going to hurt me or take me away. It’s not like with Feyadine, okay?”
Damon searched her eyes, and after a few seconds, the worry that had pooled in his began to fade. He huffed a laugh and rested his forehead against her cheek. “Sorry.”
“Well, don’t apologize, Dangerous Damon. I like my man a little growly and possessive. And if the offer still stands…”
“If it still stands, what?” he asked, his deep timbre hopeful.
“Then yes,” she whispered through a smile. Your mountains already feel like home somehow, anyway. I still don’t want your money, though,” she said, trying her best to look severe and likely failing. “I don’t want to be some kept woman.”