Page 83 of Watch Me Burn
Iknock on Luna’s door, then step back, forcing my expression into the controlled mask of daytime Damien. Friendly but not intimate, as long as you don’t count the night on her porch, the night in my penthouse, or against the door in the sanctuary.
I spot Maren through the front window. She’s wrestling with a Christmas tree, a strand of lights tangled around her arm, and what looks like a ferret on her shoulder.
I glance around at the snow-covered landscape. Aspen Ridge received its first significant snow of the season last night, over eleven inches, and it blankets the entire sanctuary in a pristine layer of white. The road is closed from Estes Park, so I took the helicopter up here on a whim to bring Luna and Maren lunch.
I’d been watching on the cameras as they hauled out Christmas decorations, but Luna seemed indifferent, while Maren’s cheerfulness felt forced. Not that I could blame them.
The knowledge of Luna’s miscarriage still sits in my chest like a stone. It’s a unique kind of hell, knowing her pain through one persona while being kept in the dark in another. But I can’t rush her. She’ll tell Damien when she’s ready. If she’s ready.
Maren answers the door. Her eyes travel over me, calculating, as if trying to piece together who stands in front of her.
When I went back and watched the footage from the day Luna miscarried, their discussion in her bedroom was enlightening. They both suspect I’m her wolf. I'm not surprised, but it doesn't make revealing myself to Luna any easier.
Maren’s eyes narrow, but then she catches sight of the insulated bags I’m carrying, and her face lights up. “Oh my God, is that Giacomo’s? I think you might be my actual hero.”
“Thought you two could use some comfort food. Is that a ferret with its head down your shirt?”
She looks down and pulls his small head from where it’s burrowing into her cleavage, sighing, almost as if she hadn’t noticed.
“Story of my life. Come on in.”
She walks away, and I stamp snow from my boots before stepping inside. “Christmas decorations, huh? How’s it going?”
“It’d be going better if these monsters would stop helping.” She sets the ferret down on the floor and then gestures toward Ricky, who’s rooting around under the partially decorated tree. “I swear to God, perv, if you don’t stop sabotaging that tree, there will be no boob action for you today!”
Shadow and Ghost sleep in beds on either side of the fireplace. Neither bothers to get up and greet me. My eyes find Luna. She’s curled on the sofa, wrapped in a thick blanket, with her calico cat on her lap and the black and white one behind her head. The fat one is nowhere to be seen. For some reason, I can never seem to remember their names.
Luna’s chuckling as she sips tea, but her face is paler than usual, her vibrant energy dimmed.
“Hey.” I smile as I approach her. “I seem to remember you mentioning that Giacomo’s butternut squash ravioli with sage butter is one of your favorites.”
She looks up, attempting a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.” I set the bags on the coffee table, fighting the urge to brush the hair from her face, my fingers aching to touch her, to pull her into my arms andcomfort her. It’s a foreign feeling for me, this need to nurture. “Are you okay? You seem a little off.”
She shrugs, placing her teacup down, and then draws the blanket closer. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
It’s a lie, of course. I know how she feels. Devastated, empty, and confused. The urge to break character, to tell her I know everything, overwhelms me.
“You don’t seem fine.” I sit beside her, leaving space between us. “Is there anything I can do?”
A crash tears my eyes from her face. The ferret darts out from under the tree, ornaments rolling in its wake.
“That’s it!” Maren throws her hands up. “These troublemakers are coming with me while I grab some plates and utensils. Come on, Ricky. You too, Frank.” She scoops up both animals, and the ferret dives straight down the front of her shirt again, while Ricky’s hand grabs for her breast. “Damn it, Lu. Can’t you find animals that don’t want to feel me up?” She walks toward the kitchen while trying to extract the ferret.
“Admit it, it’s the most action you get when JT’s away.”
Maren’s snort echoes down the short hallway between the kitchen and the living room.
Once she’s gone, Luna’s guard drops for just a second, and pain flashes across her face before she blinks it away.
“So, the raccoon seems to be doing better?”
Her lips curve. I’ve learned that asking about her animals is the easiest way to make her smile.
“No more kidney stones. He passed all the fragments. Thanks to you. But we’ll have to keep monitoring him.” She shifts in her seat, settling into the topic. “Once an animal develops kidney stones, recurrence is pretty common. We’ll need to adjust his diet too. Raccoons go crazy for nuts, but those increase the risk of stones.”
“The care you give these animals, Luna—it’s remarkable.” My voice drops lower, softer. I have to be careful here. I don’t want her to recognize it. “You havethis incredible capacity for love. You deserve to have someone give all of that back to you. And more.”
