The beast and the blessed novel by Ashley Breanne novel Chapter 184

Eight: Charlie

Charlie P.O.V.

I watched Damien out of the corner of my eye as he moved to the line of clothes Paxton had left up overnight to dry.

Paxton was probably the closest to Damien's height, but Damien's thighs and hips were a lot larger and way more muscular than Paxton's.

My jaw dropped as Damien pulled them on, getting the zipper up a few inches but leaving the button undone. The trail of dark hair leading down beneath the fabric made me very happy indeed, and I had to swallow hard to keep from drooling.

His hand slid into the pants, adjusting himself and making my body burn hotter. Could he smell how aroused I was?

My cheeks felt like they were on fire, and I turned away from him, running my hand over my chest to wipe away any perspiration. The less evidence there was of my wild hormones, the better. I had never understood how out -of-control mates would act in public, but I finally understood because I wanted to throw caution to the wind and climb Damien like a tree.

Everything I had ever been taught about composing myself and masking my emotions went right out the window with him around. I felt Damien walk up next to me as I bent down, grabbed the knife, and easily sliced through the meat.

He was too damn close. I knew if I lifted my hand, I could touch him.

I cleared my throat before speaking to save myself from the additional embarrassment of my voice cracking. "Did you bring my dagger this time?"

He sat on the ground next to me, leaning back against the log behind him where I usually sat. I had moved the log back before bringing the deer in to make room for me to work.

It was proper not to sit in a chair higher than the princess, and I felt myself tense. Did he know who I was, or had he just wanted to sit next to me?

He didn't look at me, his eyes glued to the small fire I would have to build up before hanging the pot over it. "Do your men leave you here alone often? ■

My head pulled back at the anger in his tone. "We take turns. We can't all leave the camp at once. Whoever stays behind is responsible for cooking for the day and ensuring no animals or people ransack our things."

He didn't like the answer. His hands clasped together with his forearms resting on his knees.

"I can handle myself," I whispered, suddenly feeling inadequate. Damien didn't need to say it for me to know what was happening in his head. It was the same thing Killian said when he saw me walking around without bodyguards, that I was an easy target, weak compared to most men.

It was ridiculous. I could cut down a full-blooded Lycan with my sword before they could lay a finger on me.

"I don't doubt that."

I let out a deep breath, relieved that he wasn't treating me like my brother did. Even my men had taken a while to come around to the idea of me being left on my own. I had to knock them to the dirt several times before they accepted that I was one of them and could hold my own.

I earned my spot here and wouldn't ever be ashamed of it.

Things were quiet but comfortable between us as I cut up the meat and placed it in the pot with the vegetables and potatoes Diego had, hopefully, purchased in town. His slippery little fingers were good for saving money, but we never needed to worry about that.

I didn't carry it around with me, but I had more money in the bank than we could ever require and took care of my men.

When I was done and had washed my hands from the pot of clean, boiled water we kept on the edge of the camp, I sat back down next to Damien. He had been so patient with me, but I felt his stare the entire time I cooked.

I even felt him press his thigh against mine a few times, but he would pull away after a few seconds.

"Why do you call me Charlotte instead of Charlie?" I whispered, wanting to break the silence but keep the comfort between us. The last thing I wanted was for him to leave again. I wanted to spend as much time with him as I could.

"Because that was how you introduced yourself first. I figured there was a reason you gave me that name before your nickname." His head tipped to the side as he stared at me for a long moment. "Do you want me to call you Charlie or Charlotte?"

Both variations of my name rolled off his tongue so beautifully that I wanted to ask him to repeat them.

"Either one works,' I choked out, pushing at one of the rocks surrounding the fire pit with the toe of my shoes.

Damien let out a low chuckle, and I bit my lip to stop from smiling at the sound.

"You confuse me," I admitted, turning to stare at him. His beard had grown longer over the past two weeks since I first saw him.