A Very Levet Christmas (Guardians of Eternity)

Then, without warning, Damon had returned to the cabin and found his mother dead. She’d committed a Telos, the werewolf equivalent of suicide.

He’d tried to go on with his life. To shake off the chains of his childhood and claim a future with the woman he loved.

Unfortunately, that had proved to be an impossible task.

“Damon,” Gia said, her lovely face set in lines of determination. “I’m glad I caught you before you left.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t let you leave without seeing you.”

Damon squashed the urge to reach out and touch her cheek. Over the past few months their arguments had grown increasingly bitter, until Gia had at last slammed out of the villa, swearing never to return.

He’d needed her support more than ever, but she’d refused to try and understand the darkness driving him.

“As I remember the last time we spoke you told me to go to hell,” he reminded her in grim tones.

Her lips thinned with annoyance. “Because you refuse to listen to reason.”

“Because I refuse to bow to your wishes,” he countered.

“Not my wishes.” The power of her wolf glowed in her eyes. His own wolf rose up in response, straining to be released. His animal didn’t understand why he was hesitating in completing the mating. “Common sense,” she said between clenched teeth. “You know this is a suicide mission.”

Damon felt a shaft of pain at her words. He so desperately wanted her to understand. To stand at his side.

Of course, he didn’t let her see his regret. His pride demanded that he act as if nothing could hurt him.

“Your belief in me is, as always, heartening,” he mocked.

“Salvatore is the king, Damon,” she pressed, one of the few who refused to be intimidated even after he’d taken command of the pack and moved them from Siberia to Greece. “The true king.”

Damon curled his lips. He was sick to fucking death of hearing the note of awe in the voices of Weres when they spoke of Salvatore.

Perhaps the current King of Weres had defeated the demon lord and restored the traditional powers to the Weres, but he’d also offered a treaty to the damned vampires, not to mention dragging purebred Weres into a fight against the Dark Lord.

Did no one else care that ancient traditions were being destroyed, one by one?

“Only until a stronger heir defeats him,” Damon pointed out.

Concern tightened Gia’s features. “And you’re certain you’re stronger?”

He sucked in a harsh breath. “Another insult to my manhood.”

With a sound of impatience, Gia stepped back. Instantly, Damon regretted the distance.

When they were apart there was something vital missing from his world.

“I don’t question your physical strength.”

“No?”

“No.” She gave a sad shake of her head. “I question your heart.”

Abruptly Damon turned away from the too-knowing gaze. This female knew where he was most vulnerable.

“Don’t.”

Of course she didn’t listen to his warning.

Gia could be as stubborn as he was. An amazing feat.

“You don’t want to be king,” she said, her gaze lowering to where the golden medallion shimmered against his silk shirt. “You’ve never wanted it.”

He blocked out the truth of her words. “It’s my destiny.”

“It’s the delusion of a woman who went mad from grief.”

His hands clenched; his heart filled with regret.

He still hadn’t recovered from his shock when he had entered the dank cabin after having traveled the countryside with Gia in their wolf forms. He’d been gone for days, and he had dreaded confronting his mother who was no doubt furious with his absence.

But when he’d finally forced himself to step through the open doorway, there’d been no recriminations. No furious slaps across his face.

Instead he’d found a pile of ash where his mother had called on the fires of Telos to destroy herself. Leaving him behind to bear the pain of her suicide.

“A grief I caused.”

He heard Gia heave a resigned sigh. “You didn’t cause her death, Damon.”

“I did.” He turned to glare at Gia’s obstinate expression. “She willed herself to die because I wouldn’t give her what she needed.”

Gia was shaking her head before he finished speaking. “Damon, you know she’d been sick since your father shunned her. It had nothing to do with you.”

“I didn’t give her what she needed.”

“And what about what you need?” she pleaded softly. “What I need?”

“Gia—”

“Stay,” she interrupted in an urgent voice. “Be my mate.”

A wrenching sorrow settled in his heart. “I can’t.”

Frustration flared through her dark eyes. “Why?”

Damon grimaced, shoving his fingers through his hair. “She haunts me,” he admitted in harsh tones. His dreams had been tormented since his mother’s death. “She won’t rest until I’ve done my duty.”

Gia studied him for a long time, then without warning her shoulders slumped and her eyes lost the sparkle that had always warmed his soul.

“Then go.”