In Peter's eyes, Damon Prince was a lot of things.
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A fierce, dangerously capable alpha.
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An annoyingly (endearingly) protective asshat.
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The sexiest man on the planet. (He was a pretty good kisser too.)
Damon would argue that Peter ought to add big, bad wolf to the list. Emphasis on the bad part. Damon had never made to hide the fact that he was the villain in the strange, supernatural turn Peter's life had taken since being bitten. He had shoved that little tidbit down Peter's throat even. (Peter wished the man would consider shoving other things down his throat—things that weren't "little" in the slightest.)
He took every opportunity to remind Peter of his violent past, to hammer it through his skull that he wasn't a good guy. That there was blood on his hands. But the thing of it was, Peter had never truly believed him. (How could he when those supposedly blood-stained hands were always so gentle with him?) Peter had long ago come to the conclusion that Damon wasn't nearly as big and bad as the man wanted him to think . . . until suddenly, he was.
Contains mature themes.
