Page 9 of Enchant Me

I meet his smile. “I was about to ask you that very same thing.”

“I hate that our life is tarnished with that filth, but you make it tolerable.” He brushes a soft kiss over my lips. “You’re the best part of me, Nikki.”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “I know the feeling.”

We share a grin, then he reaches over to pass me the towel that had been laying by the bag he’d been pummeling.

“You were joking,” I tell him, using the towel to clean up before putting my shorts and tee back on. “But technically the house is full of people.”

“Not a risk I was concerned about. Of course, God only knows what they could hear…”

I roll my eyes, knowing full well he’s teasing me. “Yeah, well good thing they have a lot of dishes to make. I doubt any of the caterers will leave the kitchen until it’s almost time for the reception.” As part of the arrangement with my dad and Evelyn, their reception is going to have a smorgasbord of samples so that Damien and I can taste and decide what we want for our own menu.

I expect him to make a joke about how sound carries, but instead, he twines his fingers with mine, then says, “Thank God you came to me. But, baby, I didn’t want you to see that video. Hell, I didn’t want me to see that. The picture I carry in my mind is bad enough.”

“I know,” I say, my fingers tightening in his. “The truth? I didn’t want to see it either. I don’t like thinking about what happened to you. Knowing that you had no one protecting you. But this isn’t exactly breaking news. You told me what happened with Richter. What he did to you. And what he made you and Sofia do together.”

“I didn’t tell you all of it,” he says, his voice flat. His eyes not quite meeting mine.

“You don’t have to. I know enough to understand how he hurt you. Hell, how he broke you both. But, Damien, please don’t forget that you healed. You fought back, and your wounds only made you stronger. I believe that. And it’s because of your strength that Sofia did as well as she did. She really was getting better.”

“And now she’s dead.”

“That’s not your fault,” I say. “You wouldn’t blame me, would you?”

His answer comes hard and fast. “God, no.”

“Even though I was the one she took a bullet for?”

“Don’t even—”

“That’s my point. It wasn’t your fault, either. If anything, it was Richter’s. But I don’t want to give the bastard that much credit for anything.”

The corner of his mouth curves. Not so much in a smile, but maybe in agreement.

“Thank you,” he says.

“For what?”

“For understanding that I might not want to tell you all of it. And honestly, I’m not sure I do. I spend enough time looking into those dark spaces, and I hate the thought of dragging you down, too.”

I watch his throat move as he swallows. “But the truth is, I can stand the dark when I’m with you. Without you, it eats away at my soul. You came into my life, and I felt real for the first time.”

“I know what you mean,” I tell him, because hadn’t I been little more than my mother’s living Barbie doll until I’d met Damien? “And I will go wherever you need.” I offer a small smile. “Whatever you need, Damien,” I say, repeating the words he has so often told me. “Whenever you need it.”

“How?” he asks. “How can you see the darkest part of me and still love me?”

I look down at our joined hands and then back up at him. “Because the darkness isn’t all of you. I don’t see you with rose-colored glasses, Damien Stark. I know exactly who you are. Dark and complicated and brilliant and loving and self-sacrificing and tender. I know you, Damien. Just like you know me.”

For a moment, he simply looks at me, an enigmatic combination of love and wonder in those dual-colored eyes. He holds my gaze, as if I’m the strength he needs to get the words out. And the miracle is that I know it’s true. We really do need each other that way.

“He forced us together,” Damien says, his voice low and raw. “Forced us to touch when we were too young to understand, forced us together in a way that sealed our fates and burned deep scars into both of us. He’d watch—you know that. He’d make me—touch—her in ways—Christ, Nikki, you know. You know what he did.”

“I do. And I hate him for it.”

He closes his eyes, draws in a breath. “One night he told us that he was going to sell her. She’d gotten her first period about a month before, and she was still a virgin. He never forced us to—well, I told you that as well.”

I nod, dreading what’s coming next, but say only, “You told me she was your first.”