Chapter 20
Cain woke up when the misty gray dawn over the mountain had just started to turn a glowing pink, and he immediately turned over to stare at the man whose arm he was using as a pillow. He couldn’t help but grin.
Damon was lying flat on his back in the middle of their borrowed bed at Eli’s house. His left arm was thrown out to the side, but his right leg and arm were tangled around Cain. Cain nuzzled closer, tucking his chilly hands beneath the human space heater beside him. Seemed Eli the Lonely Mountain Hermit didn’t believe in heat.
Next door, Molly and Chelsea were tucked into the room they’d been sharing, and Cain let out a soft sigh at the knowledge that they were safe and, even better,happyin their new environment. They’d raced here from his parents’ cabin the day before, half expecting to find the road littered with gangsters and Eli under siege. Instead, they’d found everyone happily engaged in Thanksgiving preparations, with Molly making hand-print turkeys while Eli and Chelsea debated the merits of butternut squash versus pumpkin, for making pie.
And that wasn’t even the weirdest part. Eli had taken one look at Cain and Damon, arms wrapped around each other’s waists as they walked up to the door, and grinned. “About fucking time,” he’d said, and he’d offered Cain a whiskey.
Molly had adjusted to life at Eli’s house quickly, making friends with the ravening beasts, Ripper and Puck, and even wrapping grumpy, sarcastic Eli around her little finger. And she wasn’t the only one. If the vibes Cain had gotten from Chelsea last night were accurate, Eli might not be alonelymountain hermit for long.
Ironically, it would not be the strangest pairing to result from the nightmare that his father had created. He reserved that title for himself and the man sleeping next to him. On paper, they should never have worked - too dissimilar in age, interests, family, and finances. But in all the things that couldn’t be quantified, Cain had never met anyone more perfect for him, anyone who’d made him feel happier or safer.
His eyes tracked the planes and hollows of Damon’s face. Asleep, Damon was a completely different sight to behold than when he was awake. His strong jaw was relaxed, the tiny laugh-lines by his eyes nearly invisible, the constant tension in his frame absent. Cain loved him when he was awake, but he could get used to seeing the formidable man at rest.
Love.He tried the word out again in his mind, waiting for panic to set in. He’d always had the vague idea that if it happened to him, love would feel like an obligation, another conflicting loyalty pulling on his already-shredded conscience, but it wasn’t like that at all. There were no competing priorities in his mind as he looked at Damon this morning. Damon had superseded them all.
“I should probably find it creepy that you’re watching me sleep,” Damon grumbled without opening his eyes. “But I don’t.”
What?How had he known?
“Wouldn’t you have been embarrassed if I hadn’t been? If I’d just been sleeping, or thinking about Richard Armitage from that BBC movie, and how hot he is? Or wondering what Eli is cooking for breakfast downstairs that smells like burnt sugar and coffee?” Cain demanded, but against his will, his fingers tracked over the rough growth of beard on Damon’s chin.
“Nope. I’d be asleep,” Damon said mildly. He cracked his eyes open and one corner of his mouth quirked up. “You were thinking pretty loud.”
Cain rolled his eyes. “And now we add mind reading to your impressive list of skills, Big Daddy!”
The green-gold gaze softened, and Damon asked, “Bet Idoknow what you were thinking.”
“Yeah, right. I was thinking about breakfast, and you know because you’re hungry, too,” Cain lied.
“Nope. Bet me,” Damon said.
“You’re starting to believe your own press.”
Damon grinned widely. “So,bet me.I get three guesses to figure out what you’re thinking. Winner gets a forfeit.”
“What forfeit?” Cain demanded.
“Winner’s choice.”
“That’s dangerous!”
With a shrug, Damon taunted, “Not if you’re sure you’ll win.”
Cain pursed his lips, considering. Winner’s choice could mean anything from various sex acts - which he was more than fine with - to a total cease and desist on using Cain’s new favorite nickname for Damon - which, curiously, he’d be disappointed to lose.
And then his brain came all the way online and he realized,duh, there was no way Damon could win.
“Deal,” Cain said smugly.
“Okay. You were thinking about how much you love donuts.”
“What? That’s stupid. No.”
“Really? Because that’s what you claimed you were thinking of the first morning we were together, back at Cort’s apartment.”
Oh. Fuck.So he had. He felt his cheeks burn. “Well, I’m not today.” Then he added a trifle smugly, “That’sone.”
