Page 108 of Claimed By Prince Daddy

Damon smirked, eyes softened a bit. My heart fluttered. “There’s my killer wolf.” I glared at him. He stepped to the side and gestured toward the celery. “You can wash that and then cut it into fine pieces.”

In the kitchen, I set to work on helping Damon prep the meal. The silence between us was deafening. Sure, there was a lot of noise and chopping sounds as we diced vegetables, the subtle breaths we breathed, the shift of clothes against skin as we moved about the small kitchenette.

But that only made me only more aware of Damon. His presence seemed to fill the room, consuming the very air I breathed. His large shoulders grazed mine occasionally as we went about prepping, sending a thrill down my spine.

I swallowed, clenching my thighs harder, hoping to stanch the smell of my arousal. As I stood so close to him, I felt sure he could smell it. I didn’t know whether to be irritated or relieved that he ignored it.

I bit on my lower lip for a moment. “Thank you.”

Damon’s hands paused in cutting. “For what?”

I hesitated, licking my lips. “For standing up for me. Back at the were-bar. You… didn’t have to do that.”

Seconds past that stretched on into minutes. My shoulders sagged as I feared Damon wouldn’t respond.

His voice reverberated and startled me. “There are no thanks needed.”

I swung my eyes at him.

“Nobody should treat a female that way.” Damon’s hand fisted around the handle of the knife. He lifted his gaze, his blue eyes colliding with my brown ones. “Especially you.”

The breath escaped my lungs. And I found all I could do was stand there, my lips parted but no words coming forth.

“W-what do you mean ‘especially me’,” I stammered once I got bearings on my tongue.

Damon shrugged one shoulder, returning his attention to the food. I returned to my own prep work, stealing glimpses at Damon from beneath my lashes. As I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye, I felt something sharp bite into my finger. With a startled cry, I dropped the knife that I held and raised my finger into view. Blood welled from a nasty cut that sliced across the first digit of my finger.

“Dammit,” I hissed, my face warming with embarrassment and anger that I had made such a fool’s mistake in front of the alpha werebear. I made to move to the sink, hoping to run water over the wound. I also needed to ask Damon where he stocked a first aid kit. A large hand shot out, and with a tenderness I didn’t know he had, Damon grabbed hold of my injured hand. Before I could ask him what he was doing, he took my cut finger in his mouth. The warm heat of his tongue slicked around my wound, sucking on the blood.

I knew from instinct what he was doing. Latents didn’t have regenerative powers like our counterparts who could shift to beast form. My brain registered that Damon was only trying to heal my wound. But my body took it to a wholedifferentlevel. A shiver fluttered down my spine. I felt my sex pulse, curls dampening. My core clenched, abdomen contracting as a need so violent with passion swept through—urging me to be filled by the primal male before me.

Damon’s nostrils flared. His gaze collided with mine, eyes spiked through with intense amber. He had caught the aroma of my arousal. I felt my finger in his mouth. The cut no longer hurt, the wound long healed. But instead of Damon releasing my finger, he dragged it deeper into his mouth. His eyes held mine—never straying as his tongue swirled around my finger, thrusting up and down the digit.

A breathy moan escaped my mouth. I rocked on my heels to the ball of my feet pitching toward Damon, wanting, needing more. Moisture flooded my mouth. I wanted his tongue on me. Needed him lapping at the sensitive buds of my hard nipples thrusting against my shirt. Needed him to lap at the sensitive folds of my wet core. I burned within, needing him with such a raw ache, it had me whimpering.

“Damon—”

A splash sounded, followed by hissing. We broke away, Damon releasing my finger with a wet pop. He turned to the stove, finding the source of the noise. The pot of boiling water overflowed, bubbles splashing onto the stovetop, steam hissing. Damon reached out and shut the burner off.

My chest heaved as I sucked in ragged breaths. Damon’s own chest rose and fell in an unsteady rhythm. His eyes found mine again, and I saw desire bleeding through the blue. His eyes turned several shades darker, near black, pupils blown wide.

No. This can’t happen. This can’t be.

I took a step back. Two more steps. “I-I need… I need to use the bathroom,” I stammered. I whirled and ran to the back bedroom, flipping on the light, and saw the bathroom adjacent. After rushing inside, I turned and closed the door, locking it behind me.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I hissed at myself.

I went about pacing the small space, my claws slicing from my fingertips. Damon was the enemy. Not only that, but he had rejected me. My fated mate hadrejectedme. I should want nothing to do with his ass.

My wolf whimpered, pressing a paw at the confines of my mind. She sought to return to our mate, finish what we started.

“Youstarted,” I hissed. “And nothing’s going to be finished.” I turned on the faucet to cold and slapped frigid water across my face—the coolness biting my skin, freezing my emotions, calming my desires. As I backed away from the sink, I lowered myself onto the closed toilet seat and buried my face in my hands. I couldn’t feel this way about Damon. Not now.

My thoughts flashed to the alpha male pinning the werewolf male against the wall at the were-bar. Damon snarled at the male wolf to apologize. Not to him. But to me. No one in my pack, besides my family, protected me from the werewolves over the fact that I was a latent.

But a bear did.

I breathed in and out, collecting my emotions, my mind, and bringing them into mindful clarity. My inner wolf wanted nothing more than to fall into Damon’s arms and beg him to take us. Like hell that was happening.

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