Chapter 22

When I wake again, it’s not Rayth in the bed next to me. Damon is sitting up against the headboard with an open book rested against his bent knee and one hand playing idly with the ends of my hair. It’s an absentminded gesture, almost like it comforts him.

As soon as he senses that I’m awake he puts the book aside and turns toward me, his expression hesitant. If he knew I’d more than willingly let Rayth eat me out earlier he may not be so cautious.

“Hey, precious, how are you feeling?” he asks softly, reaching over to brush the back of his fingers against my forehead.

I take a moment to actually assess how I’m feeling, I realize the IV is no longer in my hand when I flex it and my other arm has only a dull throbbing. ”I”m okay, I guess,” I murmur, my voice still thick with sleep. ”Better than yesterday, at least.”

Damon nods, his eyes searching mine for any sign of discomfort or pain. ”That”s good to hear,” he says gently, his thumb tracing soothing circles on my cheek as his hand cups my face. ”Rayth told me about the, uh, treatment he gave you earlier. Sorry I missed out on that.”

I chuckle softly, feeling a faint blush creeping into my cheeks. ”It”s okay,” I assure him. ”There”s always next time, right?”

Damon”s lips quirk into a smile, his eyes sparkling with warmth. ”Definitely,” he agrees, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. ”But for now, how about I make you some food? You need to get your strength back up.”

I nod gratefully, already feeling my stomach grumbling in anticipation. ”Is it your turn to be my bodyguard?” I inquire, a playful grin tugging at the corners of my lips.

He scoffs before running his tongue along his bottom lip, as though trying to capture the lingering taste of my skin. Leaning closer he says softly, “If you weren’t injured right now, precious, we would be the ones you would need to guard your body from.”

Reaching up with my good arm, I thread my hand into his short dark brown hair and grip ahold of it. His eyes flare at the way my fingers pull hard on the strands of hair. I’m not scared of them, they may not be good men, but so far there has been nothing they have done to me that I haven’t enjoyed.

“And what exactly would you do to me?” I whisper as I drag his lips toward mine.

He groans, moving his head so my hand pulls tighter as he presses his fingers more solidly into the skin of my face. “Fucking devour you,” he breathes before pressing his lips to mine. He manages to avoid touching or disturbing where my arm is resting between us as he deepens the kiss.

His kiss is hungry, desperate, as if he”s been longing for this moment just as much as I have. As if our time apart hurt him mentally as much as it hurt me physically. I respond eagerly, parting my lips to welcome him in, our tongues dancing together.

But as the intensity of the moment threatens to overwhelm us both, Damon pulls back, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He rests his forehead against mine, his eyes dark with desire.

”We should... take it slow,” he murmurs between labored breaths. ”You”re still recovering, and I don”t want to hurt you.”

I nod, my own breath coming in short pants as I try to calm the racing of my heart. ”I understand,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

Damon presses a gentle kiss to my lips before pulling away completely, his gaze lingering on me with a look of longing. ”I”ll go get you some food,” he says softly, before standing from the bed and leaving the room.

I can vaguely hear him opening and closing cupboards, so I reach over as best I can and pull his book toward me. The cover is dark and doesn”t really give much detail but has the title ”Hunt Me Darling” across the front. Turning it over, I quickly read the back. It sounds twisted and intriguing, something I would enjoy. I had just gotten to the end of the blurb when Damon returns with what smells like a grilled cheese sandwich, the aroma making my stomach rumble and my mouth water.

He chuckles as he holds the plate just out of reach. ”Swap you for the book back, it”s too good for me to lend it to you just yet,” he says, laughter lacing his voice.

”Hmm, I”m not sure if that”s a fair trade then. Maybe I would like the book more than the sandwich,” I respond playfully, a mischievous glint in my eyes.

The low chuckle he releases sends a shiver down my spine. ”Oh, I know you would. I”m not sure you”re ready for the level of depraved kinky fuckery that it contains,” he states as he places the plate on the nightstand and retrieves the book from my hands.

A surprised burst of laughter escapes me. ”How do you know? I might be,” I counter, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

He shakes his head with a grin. ”How do you feel about masks, knives, and being chased through forests with the goal being to catch you so we can fuck that pretty pussy?” he asks, his tone playful yet tinged with a hint of wickedness.

Well, fuck. My cheeks flush, and I can feel the heat spreading through my body at his words. My heart races, and a thrill shoots through me at the thought of such intense and forbidden pleasures. ”Sounds like my kind of adventure,” I reply with a mischievous grin.

His eyes grow heated as he takes in my flushed cheeks, and I can already see that the thought of doing those things to me has affected him. “I’ll keep that in mind,” He says softly, his voice husky with desire.

Moving the bookmark, he sets the book aside and helps me sit up properly before handing me the sandwich. I moan at the first bite of cheesy goodness.

Once I have swallowed the first mouthful and Damon has settled back on the bed beside me, I ask, ”Has there been any news? He doesn”t know it was you, right? He doesn”t know where we are now?”

He shakes his head, his expression serious. ”Oh, I”m sure he suspects us, but he has no evidence at all. And it”s not like we are leaving and returning to anywhere but the building our apartment is in, besides the trips we make are to places under the guise of chasing down leads regarding your disappearance.”

I nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. ”That”s good. Please be careful.”

Damon”s gaze softens as he reaches out to brush a strand of hair away from my face. ”I won”t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

”I”m not worried about me, I”m worried about you three,” I frown, voicing my concerns.

Damon chuckles softly, but there”s a hint of seriousness in his tone. ”I”m sorry to break it to you, precious, but you”ve got yourself involved with a bunch of killers. You don”t need to worry about us at all. Owen likes to give demands and order hits, but he doesn”t do a lot of the dirty work himself.”

”He killed my mother, he told me,” I say softly past the lump in my throat, the pain of the memory still fresh in my mind.

Instantly, the humor leaves Damon”s face, replaced by a look of sadness. ”I know, we found out while we were looking for you. I”m sorry he did that,” he responds, his voice filled with genuine sympathy.

I nod slightly, unable to find the words to express how I feel. Taking another bite of my sandwich, I chew absentmindedly as we lapse into silence, each lost in our own thoughts. I finish my food and set the plate aside, turning to see his eyes already on me. I had forgotten he had a strange fascination with making sure I ate and drank enough.

“So, doctor death, how long do you think it will be before my arm is good again? Owen needs to die,” I state clearly.

He barks out a laugh at the nickname but still looks at me seriously. ”Well, we would happily do it for you,” Damon begins, his tone thoughtful. ”You could help plan it and then monitor it, from a safe distance where we all know you”re going to be okay afterward.”

I narrow my eyes and scowl at him. ”That man is going to die with a bullet between his eyes, and I”m going to be the one to pull the trigger. That”s after I return the favor for what he did to my arm,” I declare, the determination clear in my tone.

Damon”s expression softens, understanding and respect gleaming in his eyes. ”I know you will, precious. And we”ll be right there with you every step of the way,” he says, his voice steady and reassuring. His expression turns thoughtful as he considers my first question. ”It”s hard to say for sure,” he begins, his tone more serious now. “We did our best with closing it up and treating it, but your arm took quite a beating. I”d say a few weeks at least before it”s fully healed. And even then if a lot of muscles were damaged it will be even longer until you can shoot properly with that hand.”

I nod, taking in his words with a sense of resignation. ”I guess I”ll have to be patient then,” I mutter, a flicker of frustration evident in my voice.

”You”re right-handed?” Damon asks, his tone shifting to a more practical consideration.

I nod in confirmation, wondering where he”s going with this.

”Have you ever tried doing things with your left hand? Like did you ever play around as a kid trying to sign your name with the other hand or silly things like that?” he continues.

I furrow my brow, wracking my memories for a moment. ”I think so, probably. It sounds like something I would have done out of curiosity,” I say finally, trying to recall.

”Did you manage to do it successfully?” he asks, curiosity evident in his tone.

I shrug in response, my memory failing me. ”Maybe. I really don”t remember. I don”t recall ever epically failing at something, so I could have. Why do you ask?” I inquire, curious about his line of questioning.

Damon smiles slightly, his eyes thoughtful. ”Some people only write or do things with their right hand because that”s the way they were taught growing up. Shooting a gun isn”t as hard as writing your name, but it does need your hand and arm to be steady. It might be a little awkward for you at first to switch your brain from one hand to the other, but I think we could teach you to shoot with your left hand,” he explains.

I tilt my head as a thought comes to me. ”Can you teach me more than just that?” I ask, meeting Damon”s gaze with determination.

Damon looks at me curiously, intrigued by my question. ”What do you mean?” he prompts.

”I want you to teach me to do what you do,” I respond, my tone serious.

He raises an eyebrow at me, clearly surprised by my request. ”You want me to teach you how to kill a person? Shooting a gun at them will get that job done,” he says bluntly.

I shake my head, meeting his gaze firmly. ”Do you only kill people with a gun?” I counter, challenging him.

His lips twitch like he”s trying to refrain from smiling or laughing at the thought. ”No,” he responds simply.

”Then I want you to teach me everything,” I say with unwavering determination, my eyes meeting his with resolve.

Damon continues looking at me in silence, his lips pursed for a moment as he considers my request. I don”t show him any hesitation, fully committed to my decision.

”Okay, precious,” he finally says, his voice soft but firm. ”Once you”re feeling up to it, we will put a knife in your hand and see what you can do. But not until you have taken time to heal a little.”

I scowl at him as my excitement instantly dampens. “I’m fine! It barely hurts,” I argue but when I shift on the bed I can’t hide the flinch as my arm twinges. He simply raises an eyebrow with a sympathetic smile before helping me out of bed so I can use the bathroom and then forcing me to lay down when I return. I sigh; I guess another day of rest wouldn’t hurt.