The Softest Part of Him
Lila didn’t know how long they kissed; time blurred into the soft press of lips and the slow, startling warmth that spread under her skin. When Damien finally broke away, the room felt too big, the men were gone and the silence that followed was loud enough to make her blood roar in her ears.
She stumbled back a half-step, cheeks burning, eyes darting anywhere but his. “Y—you can’t just kiss me in front of them like that,” she said, voice small but shaking enough that he could hear.
Damien said nothing. He closed the space between them again with a single, deliberate pace, his hand sliding to her waist. The contact was both claim and comfort; his palm was steady, anchoring her. Then he tipped her chin up with a fingertip so she couldn’t look away, his face inches from hers, his breath warm and steady.
“I don’t plan to hide what I feel for you from anyone anymore,” he said, each word measured, almost ordinary and infinitely dangerous. “I want to unleash everything, and I’m ready to kill anyone who isn’t comfortable with that.”
Her throat went dry. Lila bit the inside of her cheek, lowering her gaze until the lashes hid the sudden wetness in her eyes. The room felt smaller, pinned to the axis of his voice and the way it vibrated through her chest.
Damien’s finger traced the line of her jaw as if memorizing it. “Even if it’s your uncle, Lila.”
Lila’s eyes lifted to his face at once, disbelief flickering across her features. “Your best friend?”
“Yeah,” Damien said coolly, his tone almost taunting. “So it’s best for him to allow me to have you in peace.”
Her lips parted before a quiet laugh escaped her; soft, disbelieving, but filled with warmth she couldn’t hide. “You’re unbelievable, Uncle Wolfe,” she murmured, shaking her head as she turned slightly away.
His expression hardened in an instant, the air thickening between them. “Do you want me to punish you before you finally learn not to call me that?” His voice dropped, low and sharp, each word brushing against her skin like a threat and a promise all at once.
Lila looked back at his face, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Well,” she said softly, almost a whisper, “I love the sound of that. So how do you plan to punish me?”
Before he could answer, she slipped from his grasp and started toward the kitchen with slow, unhurried steps, the sway of her movement deliberate and playful.
Damien’s lips curved into a dangerous smile as he began following her. But before he could take more than a few steps, his leg clipped the edge of a stool. A sharp gasp tore from his throat before he could stop it.
Lila froze. The teasing vanished from her face in an instant. “What’s wrong?” she asked, turning back quickly, worry flooding her voice.
Damien forced a strained smile, straightening himself. “It’s nothing,” he said quietly, though his tone wavered ever so slightly. “I’m fine.”
But she didn’t believe him. Her eyes swept over him, tracing the subtle stiffness in his stance until they landed on the dark patch spreading down his pant leg — a thin line of red glinting under the light.
Her breath caught. “You’re bleeding.”
“Come on, it’s nothing. I’m okay,” Damien said, trying to brush it off, but his voice lacked its usual firmness.
“You’re not okay!” Lila snapped, her panic cutting through his calm tone as she grabbed his arm and forced him down onto the nearest seat. “Did I not tell you not to get hurt?”
Her voice trembled between anger and fear, and before he could argue, she was already gone, returning seconds later with the first aid box clutched tightly in her hands. Kneeling in front of him, she worked in silence, her fingers careful but frantic as she rolled up his pant leg.
The moment the wound came into view, her breath caught. A fresh wave of blood stained the bandage, and beneath it, the angry red of a healing bullet wound pulsed faintly. Her chest constricted, and tears welled in her eyes before she could stop them.
Damien’s shoulders eased, his expression softening as he watched her. He could face pain, betrayal, even death but watching Lila’s eyes fill like that always did something else entirely to him.
“Lila,” he said quietly, “trust me, I’m fine.” He forced a faint smile, his tone even more gentle now. “At least I’m alive. I… lost a friend.”
Her movements faltered, her fingers pausing on his leg. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to his face. The tears stopped, but her heart clenched tighter.
Damien exhaled, the sound heavy and low. “I never believed I could be affected by his death,” he said, swallowing hard. “But after he was gone… I realized how much he meant to me.”
Lila sniffed softly, her hands steady even as her heart ached. She began cleaning his wound with gentle, deliberate motions, her voice low but warm. “You would have saved him if you could,” she said, glancing briefly at him. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Big Wolfe. Maybe… you can just do some of the things he shared with you while he was alive. Keep a piece of him that way.”
Damien’s brows drew together as he stared at her, surprised. “Were you aware I learned some things from him?” he asked, his tone tinged with disbelief.
Lila laughed quietly, the sound fragile yet sweet. She shot him a long look. “Nah,” she said softly. “It’s just… I feel like that person must’ve been good. For you to care this much.” Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she added, her voice almost a whisper, “You might act cold on the outside, but I’ve come to see that you’re one of the softest people I’ve ever met.”
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them. Then, unexpectedly, Damien let out a quiet chuckle, low and rough, the sound rumbling in his chest. He suddenly leaned forward until their faces were just inches apart, his eyes glinting with something teasing but fond.
“I can see those boys have fed you some things they’re not meant to,” he murmured.
He shouldn’t have said it, maybe not that way, not with that amused edge. Because the moment the words left his mouth, Lila paused.
The faint smile she wore vanished, and her eyes filled again, overflowing before she could blink them back.
“I don’t know your past,” Lila began, her voice shaking as tears streamed freely down her cheeks, “but trust me you’re the coolest person ever.” Her words came out in a rush, broken by the sound of her own sobs. “Your reputation might be dangerous, and maybe you’ve done a lot of bad things in the past, but to me, you’re the coolest.”
Her voice cracked on that last word, and she tried to wipe her tears with the back of her hand, but they kept falling faster. “Hearing the men’s stories… how you saved them, protected them… I don’t know why, but I just… I feel so drawn to you. So much that I want to hear yours too. I want to know your story.”
Damien was stunned. For a man used to silence and control, her words hit him like a blow he hadn’t seen coming. He watched her for a long moment, his face expressioless, before his lips curved into the faintest, pained smile.
“Come here,” he said quietly, his voice deep and low.
He took her hands and gently pulled her toward him until she was sitting on his thighs, her small frame trembling against his chest.
His arm slipped around her waist, holding her as if she might disappear if he didn’t.
“I want to open up to you too, Lila,” he murmured, his breath brushing against her temple. “But you’re going to promise me one thing.”
She blinked up at him through her tears. “What?”
“That you won’t pity me,” he said softly, his tone heavy with something rawer than pain.
Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Why?”
“Because I don’t deserve it,” Damien said, his gaze dark and resolute. “I don’t deserve pity from someone like you.”