I woke feeling very warm and comfortable. My back, especially, seemed to be radiating heat, warming the rest of my body. I sighed and snuggled into the warmth, still sleepy. Then the warmth moved and I froze, my eyes popping open. Warmth wasn't supposed to move. It was supposed to sit there and be... well, warm.

Slowly, my eyes slid down to my body. Draped across my stomach was a hand. That hand was attached to an arm. My eyes followed said arm up... and up... to a person. A person I knew. Damien. Snuggling with me. In bed. Holy shit.

So I lay there, frozen. Unsure what to do, I stared stiffly ahead for a while. Then my stomach growled. Damien grunted quietly and his arm tightened around my waist, pulling me tighter against him. Muscles moved against my skin as he moved. I was pretty sure he wasn't wearing a shirt. His head moved down to bury itself in my hair, and I thought I heard a purr. I smirked to myself - that was something I needed to remind him of, if only to embarrass him. For a while, I lay tensely in bed, trying not to breathe. Which was quite difficult. It turns out, you do need to breathe. How strange.

Finally, I mustered up the courage to try to escape. Wriggling, I managed to move lower and lower until he was cuddling my head. As I moved to slip out of his grasp, he sighed and pulled me closer again. I froze, my face smashed against his arms.

Luckily, he didn't wake up. After waiting for a few moments, I slipped my head out of his grasp and rubbed my cheek distantly.

Finally out of his arms, I tiptoed to the door and looked back at him one last time. He looked so peaceful, lying on the bed. His hair was mussed, and his face was relaxed. I stared at him for a moment, noticing again how stunning he was. Slowly, I turned and moved out of the room.

Downstairs, I rummaged for food in the fridge. Finding nothing but fruit and vegetables, I plopped down on the stool and sighed. Damien seriously had to learn the joys of unhealthy eating. Glancing over at the other counter, my eyes caught on a bright box. On it was a printed label with a few perfect, golden pancakes and a woman with a spatula smiling so hugely that it was almost creepy. I grinned. I loved pancakes. I had never made them, but the instructions were printed on the box - I mean, how hard could it be?

Half an hour later, I had ruined two batches of mix, burnt five pancakes, and was glaring at the two splotches of batter I had just poured into the pan. They were lopsided, and it was bothering me.

"You had better be good." I told them with a glare. They didn't respond. Big surprise there.

After a few minutes, I grew impatient. Gingerly, I pushed the spatula under the wet lumps of batter. The runny liquid dribbled over the side of the undercooked pancakes as I awkwardly struggled to keep the spatula level. Slowly, I tipped the spatula over and the pancake slopped into the pan, directly on the other pancake I was cooking. The runny batter splattered, covering everything in a two foot radius. Including me. Looking down, I saw that my shirt was flecked with the white-ish goop.

I ground my teeth, a growl escaping through my teeth as I struggled to keep my breathing under control. Pancakes sucked. Stupid lumps of flour. If the pan wasn't already heating the batter, I'm pretty sure my eyes would have roasted them with the intensity of the glare I was giving the ruined pancakes.

"Having a bit of trouble, Princess?" A familiar voice shivered down my spine, and I automatically smiled. Damien. Then I remembered that I was mad at the pancakes, and I frowned again.

"Pancakes suck." I turned to face him, nettled and slightly embarrassed.

He seemed to be struggling not to laugh at me.

I grabbed the spatula from behind me. "If you laugh at me, I swear I'll smack you." I warned, face serious.

His eyebrows moved up. "Oh, I'm terrified. A little girl is threatening me with a spatula." His voice was sarcastic, and I didn't like it one bit. I was not a little girl.

"Jerk." I growled, and darted toward him. "I'm going to get you for that."

He took a step toward me, and I grinned. He wanted a fight.

It was a good thing I was good at fighting.

We engaged in a staring contest. He was smirking the whole time, which ticked me off. Tired of waiting, I snapped my arm up and down, whapping him on the shoulder before he could react. His eyes showed his brief surprise, and he grinned as he tensed and I knew I would be hard pressed to get another hit in. He was in fighting mode. He stood perfectly still, in the true style of a warrior - analyzing and alert. Watching me. I feinted to one side and whipped the other way, but he was there, blocking the spatula with his forearm. I turned the forward momentum into a strike at his leg, but he took a step back, which I wanted. I was already dropping onto my hands to try to sweep his legs out from under him. He jumped, landing in a loose crouch, and before I knew it, he was on me. Striking and jabbing with a speed that I almost couldn't see, he attacked. I knew he would never hurt me, but I was barely managing to block and evade his punches.

And then I made a mistake. As I was jumping over his leg as he tried to trip me, I didn't see him snatch my wrist. He pulled, and I stumbled. I struggled to stay on my feet and he yanked once more, pulling me off balance. I stumbled into his chest, turning to protect my face. He immediately had me pinned against his muscular body.

"Did you miss the class where you were taught never to turn your back on your attacker, Princess?" He whispered into my ear, warm breath fanning over the sensitive skin. I could hear the amusement in his voice. I tried to wriggle free, but he was too strong.

"I've got you, Princess." He gloated.

"Don't get your hopes up, macho man." I retorted, grinning. Using a trick I had figured out myself, I flipped him over my back. With lightning fast reflexes, he grabbed me as he flipped, pulling me into his embrace as he hit the ground, cradling me so he absorbed the impact. I stared down at him in shock. No one had ever been able to do that before - he had improvised through my signature move!

He grinned up at me, blue eyes dancing wickedly. "Yes, I really do, Princess. I've got you now, just like I'll always have you. You are mine. My Princess."

My mouth flopped open like a fish. "How did you do that?" I asked.

He grinned. "Ah, it's a secret. And maybe, if you're good, I'll tell you one day, Princess."

I sat up and huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. As I looked down at him, I couldn't help but smile. He was beautiful. If I was his, he was mine too, right? I grinned and leaned down, pressing my lips to his. He reacted almost immediately, his arms winding around my back and pulling me down. Our lips moved against each other, and I felt warm. One of his hands snuck under my shirt and moved around my stomach and hips, creating more heat. I moved to straddle him, our lips locked.

Suddenly, an acidic scent hit my nostrils. Smoke. I shot upright, eyes searching for flames.

"Oh crap." I said, looking down at Damien guiltily. "I forgot about the pancakes." I bolted upright and stumbled over to the stove.

Looking down at the stove, I cringed. The blackened lumps looked less edible than the pan they were sitting on. "Damn it." I sighed. "I really wanted pancakes."

A hard chest brushed against my back as Damien moved behind me. "I have to admit, those look horrible."

I sighed. "They do, don't they." I poked one with a spatula. It stuck to the pan so much that the pan moved a bit. "I'm pretty sure they're supposed to be golden, not black." I admitted sadly.

Damien chuckled. "I'll make you pancakes, Princess."

I perked up. "Really?"

"Really."

"Thank you!" I spun around, giving him a tight hug. He grabbed me as I tried to pull away, and lifted me until my head was his level with his. My legs dangled by his sides as he supported my butt. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his hips, and my arms went around his neck. As if it were completely normal, he went along cooking behind my back, holding me up with one arm and scraping the burnt pancakes off the pan with the other. I heard a sizzle as the batter hit the pan, and a delicious aroma wafted through the kitchen. I relaxed against his shoulder, resting my head in the crook of his neck and breathing in his scent.

All of the sudden, my thoughts turned in a new direction and butterflies - no - monsters invaded my stomach. My heart pounded in my ears, echoing loudly, and tears raced to my eyes. Panic caught me in its web, and the more I thought, the more it trapped me. Almost like a spider injecting me with venom, fear shot through my veins. Out of nowhere, hysteria overtook me. Almost robotically, thoughts came to my head:

What was I doing? I couldn't do this. I couldn't.

I had to get out of here.

"Can I go to the bathroom?" I asked quietly, avoiding his eyes, or else he would see the tears threatening to spill.

"Princess, what's wrong? " He saw through my pathetic excuse easily, putting down the spatula, and setting me down gently.

"Nothing," I denied, refusing to let his see my face, "I'm fine. I have to go to the bathroom."

"I know something's wrong." He trapped me between the stove and him, his arms on either side of me.

"Damien, I'm fine." I said, but my voice shook, betraying me.

"Tell me what's wrong." He ordered, tipping my face up to face his. "Princess, let me fix it. When you hurt, I hurt too." His eyes pleaded with me.

I sighed shakily. Pulling my face down, I spoke softly, "I don't know what happened. I just got so scared Damien. It's just so new and so fast. This whole thing," I waved my hands around vaguely, "It's so much, and I can't control it. I like control, I like to know what's going to happen, and I can stop it when I need to. But this - this is different. You've managed to worm your way into my heart, and I can't stop it. That scares me." I looked down, not wanting to let him see the shimmering film of tears that was springing to my eyes. With a sigh, Damien firmly pulled my chin up so my eyes met his.

"Princess, please don't cry." He cupped my cheek in his hand. "We can go slow, we can do whatever you want." He looked at me tenderly, blue eyes smokey as I sniffled, hating my own weakness. "We can go slow, and if you want me to stop doing something - I will. If you're scared, I'll chase away your demons. I'll slay your dragons. I'll make it better, I promise." He vowed fiercely. "It hurts me when you're scared, because it's not just your pain, it's our pain." His thumb smoothed my cheek gently. "We're in this together. I need you. You balance me, and I can't get you out of my head. Now that I've met you, you're my everything. The scent of you is addicting, the honey golden shade of your eyes has become my new favorite color, and even if I had to fight with you for the rest of my time on Earth, I would still love you more than life, Princess. I understand if you're scared. Just tell me what I can do to make it better."

I took a deep breath, nodding as I listened to his soothing voice. It chased away the fear. I swallowed, nodding, tears springing into my eyes. "I-I'd just like a hug now." I whispered. He pulled me close and enveloped me in his strong arms. A sense of calm and safety washed over me as I relaxed into his warm body.

My heart melted, and for once I wasn't scared when I felt the familiar gooey warmth in my chest. Because I was falling helplessly in love with him, not because he was my mate, but because he was Damien.

I was falling in love with Damien.

A/N:

Hey ya'll! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Next chapter is less love and more action!

Remember to vote and comment!

~Unbridled Imagination

P.S. Do you guys want a chapter in Damien's point of view?