“You love it.”
She laces her fingers through mine, and that small act of connection calms my nerves. “We really need to work on our definition of a quiet Christmas.”
“Next year. Next year, we’re going somewhere remote with no cell service and no one who needs saving. And most importantly,alone.”
“Sure we will.” I hear the smile in her voice. “We’ll probably stumble into some conspiracy within the first hour, having to call everyone to meet us, and make some elaborate plan.”
I huff, hating to admit that she’s right. “Probably, Angel… Probably.”
By the time I pull into the driveway, her head is resting against the window and her eyes are barely open.
I carry her inside, letting the soft white lights we strung along the iron banister lead the way. She wakes up halfway to the door, thankfully missing the huge package waiting by the door.
We go right to the bathroom, and she insists on brushing her own teeth, swatting my hand away when I try to do it for her. I hover behind her, ready to catch her if she falls.
“I’m okay,” she mumbles around her toothbrush.
“I know.”
I help her out of her bloodstained scrubs and she doesn’t fight me. She’s moving on autopilot now. I can see exhaustion winning.
I grab one of my old, worn, band tees from the drawer and slip it over her head. She doesn’t even protest, just lets me maneuver her arms through the sleeves.
“Come on, Angel. Let’s get you in bed.”
She shuffles to the bed and crawls under the covers, burrowing into the pillows with a contented sigh.
With her settled, I strip down to my boxers, tossing my ruined clothes toward the hamper. I’ll deal with the blood stains tomorrow. Right now I need to feel her.
I slide in and move as close as I can until she curls into me, resting her bandaged head on my chest, and hooking one leg over mine.
“Merry Christmas,” she mumbles against my skin.
I lean in to kiss her forehead, inhaling deeply, letting her very being reach into my soul. She’s alive. She’s safe. She’s mine.
Her breathing starts to even out within seconds, but I feel her lashes flutter against my skin.
“Damon?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Love you.” The words are slurred with sleep. “Even if you’re obsessive and unhinged.”
Fuck, I love her.
I smile into the darkness. “Love you too. Even if you’re stubborn and give me heart attacks.”
“Perfect match,” she whispers.
“Perfect match.”
Within moments, she’s out completely. I can feel her heartbeat steady against my ribs and her breath warm on my chest.
I lie there holding her, one hand resting on her upper arm, the other wrapped around her waist, listening to her breathe.
But as the minutes turn to hours, my mind won’t fucking stop replaying the night.
I keep seeing it like a horror movie made just for me. The moment I burst through that door and saw her crumpled on the floor. The blood. So much blood spreading across the white marble. Her body limp and unconscious in my arms.
