Page 107 of Claimed By Prince Daddy

My wolf yipped in glee, her tongue lolling out of her muzzle.

I swallowed hard, eyeing the front door. Would it be safer to take a chance in the blizzard?

“What would you like to eat?”

The rough rumble of Damon’s voice shot a zing of desire straight to my toes. I shivered. Clearing my throat, I asked, “What?”

Damon hadn’t missed the jolt of movement on my end. His eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring. His amber gaze shot to me, dropped to my thighs—more precisely, what lay between them.

My heart threatened to erupt through my ribcage. No doubt Damon could hear the frantic heartbeats. Smell my arousal.

Damon gave a hard blink and the fire of his eyes melted into a blue as dark as the ocean deep.

After a deep sigh, Damon asked, his voice deep and throaty, “What do you want to eat?” His eyes skated away from mine as he glanced back to the pantry. “I can make chowder, chicken soup, uh…ham sandwich.” He listed several other meals.

My brows shot up. Food? Food was the furthest thing from my mind. I knew that. So did Damon, by the way his nostrils flared, catching my wet heat. But food was a distraction. And I would take anything I could get.

“Uh… soup, chicken soup would be lovely.”

Damon jerked his head in a nod. “Right. Chicken soup it is.”

He set about grabbing carrots out of the fridge, along with celery, chicken, and various items.

I traced a toe along the wooden floors. As I stepped around the couch, I deposited my guns on the side table. It seemed like we were staying for the long haul, so might as well. I looked back around the living room. It didn’t feel right to sit on the couch and let Damon cook. I was never one to sit on the sidelines, and I wouldn’t do it here.

“Do you need help?” I padded toward the kitchen.

Damon chopped the carrots faster. “Nah, I’m good.”

I eyed his fluid movements, the fine edge of the knife slicing through the carrots like a samurai blade. “Hey, I’d rather help. It doesn’t feel right that you’re cooking.” Ducking my chin, I added, “It’s my fault we’re stuck in this cabin to wait the blizzard out.”

Damon cocked his head.

I rolled my eyes. He was going to make me answer. “If we hadn’t detoured to the were-bar, then we would’ve been back in your territory earlier, and not stuck out here.” I sighed, folding my arms across my chest.

Happy now?

Damon’s eyes widened. “That’s not on you. You got the information you needed, yeah?”

I gave a nod. “More than I could’ve imagined. After you left, I spoke to a young witch.”

Damon raised a brow. “The head witch turned me away. She wouldn’t reveal the scent on the cloth. So I entered the bathroom to… freshen up, and a young witch by the name of Sandral followed me.”

Damon’s eyes darkened. “What did she do?”

I waved a hand. “Nothing. She actually offered to help.”

Damon rolled his eyes. “You can’t trust witches,” he scoffed. “What could she possibly have helped with?”

I frowned. “She confirmed that the scent on the cloth was Dark Fae.”

Damon blinked, then his brow furrowed as suspicion seemed to differ from his beliefs.

“And even more… She revealed to me that the Dark Fae Realm is dying. That they need human adoration and worship to thrive.” I told Damon about the relation between humans and fae and my suspicions. “What if the reason they’re killing humans is to take over our realm, to make Earth their home?”

Damon’s eyes squinted as he mulled over what information I’d given him. “That would explain why humans are dying,” he admitted. He shook his head. “But it doesn’t explain why they’re using the werebears to murder the humans. Their power is still famed with the Werekind. They could easily come over and kill humans themselves. What correlation do the werebears have in this shitstorm?”

I nibbled on my lower lip, perplexed by the use of werebears in the killings myself. I sighed, placing my hands on my hips as I traipsed closer. “Whatever the reason, it doesn’t change the fact that a Dark Fae is responsible for Chelsea’s murder. And wherever he is, he’s mine. I’ll rip his goddamn head off.”

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