Page 101

I'm Damian fucking Leeds.

I'm a grown man.

A billionaire.

A Jersey Devil.

I do not panic because a woman leaves my bed before breakfast.

Except she's not a woman.

She's my promised.

The woman I claimed last night without giving her one fucking word of explanation.

“Oh, fuck.”

I scrub both hands down my face.

She doesn't know.

Belinda has no idea what I did.

One minute I'm telling her I can't offer her anything, and a few hours later I'm sinking my teeth into her and binding us together without so much as a supernatural disclaimer.

Shit.

I throw my legs over the side of the bed.

My gaze catches on my hands.

I stop.

The red.

It's—

Faded.

Not gone.

But the angry crimson that has been creeping steadily over my fingers has receded toward my knuckles.

I stare.

My heartbeat turns thunderous.

“No fucking way.”

I stand and cross to the mirror.

The red along my ribs has faded too.

The blackened edges that have been spreading⁠—

Gone.

My eyes are clearer.