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Of fucking course the woman destined to save my miserable ass is the one woman stubborn enough to go to war with me over worms, vampire bats, gnomes, and ninety-seven disgusting pizzas.

Belinda Ramos.

My Sweet.

My promised one.

My salvation.

The breath in my body.

The woman I fucking claimed.

And with her magic, she claimed something in me right back.

Mine,

This time, I don't argue with the instinct.

“Yeah,” I murmur.

Something warm settles deep inside my chest.

“She's ours.”

Chapter 17

Damian

Sunlight streams through the skylight in my bedroom.

I drift slowly toward consciousness with a grin on my face.

A fucking grin.

Me.

Damian Leeds.

Before Belinda, waking up meant inventory.

Wings?

Still there.

Tail?

Still there.

How much more skin had turned red overnight?

How close was I to losing myself?

How many hours until Grandmother called?

How long until I became something Owen had to put down?

Not today.