Florence | Edinburgh, present day
Holy shit. I gaze at theJrose tattoo and don’t say anything. Damian’s breathing is erratic, and he looks at me wide-eyed, like he’s about to lose it. OK, this is a bad wound, something that he keeps tightly locked away and why I haven’t picked up on it from his thoughts. But it seems he’s also suffering from PTSD. I’ve been through two world wars, so I know a bit about the effects of shell shock.
I rub his forearm to let him know I’m not going anywhere. That he’s in a safe space. ‘Hey, what happened? You can tell me,’ I say in a low soothing voice.
Damian stares at me, his cheeks red and his forehead sweaty. ‘You want to hear about Juliana?’ He sounds amazed, like he’s expecting me to kick him out of bed.
I nod. ‘She’s part of your history—of course I want to hear about her.’And I’m not squeamish about death since I’ve been a vampire for over a century ...
The look of utter relief on Damian’s face is enough to melt my long dormant heart. Oh, the poor wee mite! Irearrange the white goose-feather bed pillows, plumping them up behind his head so he’s comfortable. I take his hand in mine and wait for him to begin.
‘It ... it was a car accident,’ he says shakily, and I squeeze his fingers.
‘Go on.’
He closes his eyes, and the words flow out of him in a fast moving stream, as if he wants to get it over with.
‘Three of us ... camping trip ... My friend Jake, he’d been drinking ... driving too fast ... clipped an oncoming car ... It rolled ... Juliana in front ... n-not wearing a seat belt ... Ambulance took ages ... We were in the middle of nowhere ... She lost too much b-blood ... They said her death was p-preventable if we’d been nearer a town ...’
‘I’m so sorry,’ I murmur. ‘Did anyone else ...? Your friend?’
‘Jake was fine apart from some cuts and bruises,’ replies Damian flatly, and I get the sense he and Jake aren’t friends anymore. I take a quick peek into his thoughts. Yep, he’s never forgiven Jake and hopes he burns in hell. Whoa.
‘I could have saved her, but I didn’t know how,’ Damian continues. ‘I was in dental school, studying teeth, not human anatomy. I could do basic CPR, but I was clueless about serious injuries. If I’d been studying medicine, I could have done something ... tried something ...’ He clenches hisfists lying on top of the bedcover, and his knuckles turn white.
‘It wasn’t your fault, Damian,’ I say gently.
‘Afterwards, I tried to retrain as a doctor. But I kept failing—it was the grief, I suppose,’ he goes on as if I haven’t spoken. ‘I couldn’t handle the stress, and I balked when we had to dissect corpses. Every time, I’d get stuck. It felt like I was reliving her death all over again. I failed one time too many, and they kicked me out. So I went back to dentistry and finished my course. But I vowed to learn everything I could in case it happened again, to anyone. If I’d had more knowledge, I could have kept her stable before the ambulance arrived. I’ve done so much medical research since it happened that I could probably perform basic surgery on the roadside.’ He gives a short bitter laugh.
Now I know why he was so anxious about Bitsy biting me. But compared to some of the other more dramatic ways I could go, death by Bichon Frisé would be a tad embarrassing ...
‘And how has it affected your personal life? If you don’t mind me asking. Have you had a girlfriend since?’ I attempt to sound neutral like I’m a therapist, but I’m keen to hear the answer.
He shrugs. ‘No. I’ve dated a bit here and there, but I guess I haven’t wanted to get close to anyone ... in case they ...you know ... like Juliana.’
I nod. ‘Understandable. But you can’t think like that. Otherwise, you’ll wake up one day and realise you’ve wasted the best years of your life. You’re hot and a nice person. You deserve to be happy.’
I’m not just giving him compliments because I want him to be happy with me. Hereallydoesn’t deserve the emotional and mental anguish he’s torturing himself with. If anyone should be feeling guilty about their past misdeeds, it should be me, not him.
Damian inclines his head slightly. ‘You think I’m hot?’
I smile to myself. Of course he’s focused on that part of my pep talk! ‘Smoking.’ I lean in to give him a light peck on the cheek, but he turns his head and presses his lips hard against mine. We kiss for a brief moment, and it’s lovely.
But then he pulls away, shaking like a leaf, burying his face in his hands. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers. ‘I just get these stupid panic attacks.’
I put my arm around his shoulders and hold him close to me, then get a bit worried that he won’t feel me breathing and wonder why. Especially if he’s done a lot of medical research. I drop my arm and inch away from his body slightly but don’t want him to feel like I’m rejecting him. ‘Would a cup of tea help perhaps?’
He nods and takes a shaky breath. ‘Yeah, that would begreat. Thanks. And thanks for listening.’
‘Not a problem. How do you take it?’
‘White with one sugar.’ Damian smiles weakly and burrows down into the soft pillows—not before I catch a glimpse of his red watery eyes, though.
Yikes. Hopefully, it did help him to talk about his girlfriend. I’m not usually sought out by either of my flatmates for deep and meaningful conversations, so hopefully, I did OK.
Carefully, I tuck the covers around him and retreat from my lair. Discombobulated, I head upstairs, surprised that I’m feeling protective and maternal towards Damian right now. I still want to fuck him and suck his blood, but alongside that is a strong urge to comfort and take care of him—it’s a new feeling for me.
***
