Damien
and every demon wants his pound of flesh
but i like to keep some things to myself
but i like to keep some things to myself
At the mention of the ranch, his brows arched, interest flickering. “King’s End, huh. I’ve been meaning to check the place out anyway.” His tone carried something speculative, weighing it the way he did everything, but there was a note beneath it—an ease, almost anticipation. A place built up out there in the wilds was worth seeing, sure, but the thought of going with her? That settled something deep in his chest. His gaze lingered on her face a beat longer than he meant before he nodded, decisive. “After Deepfrost. We’ll go.”
When she laughed and winced, the sound snagged him. His expression tightened, a flicker of alarm, but she cut it off before he could ask, her reassurance automatic. He let out a breath through his nose, a faint loosening of tension in his shoulders, though his eyes stayed on her, measuring. Not fully convinced, but willing to take her word for now.
The cub’s claws tangled again, and he reached with his free hand, untangling her hair gently from the little paw. The strands slipped over his fingers, smooth, soft, illuminated by the firelight. For a heartbeat, he turned the curl between his fingertips like he was testing the texture, the richness of the color catching him off guard. It reminded him of raven feathers, or the way obsidian was both endlessly deep and reflective. He placed them back over her shoulder, out of the cub's mischievous reach, lingering a fraction too long before letting go.
When she looked at him, surprised he’d asked her to name the cub, he only gave a slow, certain nod. Like it was obvious, like he’d never doubted she would be the one to do it. He watched the thought move across her face, her blue eyes distant, her focus drawn down to their hands where his still covered hers. He kept it there, steady, almost protective, while she searched for the right name.
He tried it, low, testing the shape of it on his tongue. His mouth curved faintly, genuine though weary. “Aria,” he echoed, looking at the cub as if waiting for her to either accept or reject it. Then he turned back to Theea. She smiled, asking his thoughts, and for a second he just stared, caught by her disarming grace like it was a lure. Heat stirred in him before he could choke it down. He looked away, jaw working, embarrassed by how quick it came. “If you like it, then I like it,” he said finally. The words were plain, but the warmth threaded through made them more than that.
And then, as if realizing he’d let himself sink too deep into the moment, his hand let go of hers and he shifted, starting to get off the bedroll. He tugged the blanket off his shoulders carefully, trying not to disturb her or the cub that had nestled between them. “Alright. Come on, Theea.” His voice dipped into that practical firmness he wore like armor, for he half-expected her to put up some sort of argument. “Lie down. You need to rest.”
When she laughed and winced, the sound snagged him. His expression tightened, a flicker of alarm, but she cut it off before he could ask, her reassurance automatic. He let out a breath through his nose, a faint loosening of tension in his shoulders, though his eyes stayed on her, measuring. Not fully convinced, but willing to take her word for now.
The cub’s claws tangled again, and he reached with his free hand, untangling her hair gently from the little paw. The strands slipped over his fingers, smooth, soft, illuminated by the firelight. For a heartbeat, he turned the curl between his fingertips like he was testing the texture, the richness of the color catching him off guard. It reminded him of raven feathers, or the way obsidian was both endlessly deep and reflective. He placed them back over her shoulder, out of the cub's mischievous reach, lingering a fraction too long before letting go.
When she looked at him, surprised he’d asked her to name the cub, he only gave a slow, certain nod. Like it was obvious, like he’d never doubted she would be the one to do it. He watched the thought move across her face, her blue eyes distant, her focus drawn down to their hands where his still covered hers. He kept it there, steady, almost protective, while she searched for the right name.
He tried it, low, testing the shape of it on his tongue. His mouth curved faintly, genuine though weary. “Aria,” he echoed, looking at the cub as if waiting for her to either accept or reject it. Then he turned back to Theea. She smiled, asking his thoughts, and for a second he just stared, caught by her disarming grace like it was a lure. Heat stirred in him before he could choke it down. He looked away, jaw working, embarrassed by how quick it came. “If you like it, then I like it,” he said finally. The words were plain, but the warmth threaded through made them more than that.
And then, as if realizing he’d let himself sink too deep into the moment, his hand let go of hers and he shifted, starting to get off the bedroll. He tugged the blanket off his shoulders carefully, trying not to disturb her or the cub that had nestled between them. “Alright. Come on, Theea.” His voice dipped into that practical firmness he wore like armor, for he half-expected her to put up some sort of argument. “Lie down. You need to rest.”
