Even crouching, he’s still taller. His knuckle tilts up my chin and the same undercurrent of attraction I always feel in his presence tugs at me. His darkness calling to mine.
“They’re just to help me function.”
“Sure.” His heavy gaze rakes across my face, making my pulse jump. “Maybe it’s naive, but when you insisted I be honest, I expected the same from you.”
When I remain silent, he provides the answer himself. “You plan on killing yourself, is that right?”
My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, and I nod. Terrified of what comes next if he tells on me. Counselling. Talk therapy. Medication, and probably by injection this time so I can’t fake it.
Constant vigilance, no one allowing me an ounce of privacy.
“Don’t look so sad. I won’t tell your secret to anyone else. Not if you do what I want.”
I hitch in a breath, letting tears well, then sniffing them back; no longer sure which parts are acting. He catches one stray with the ball of his thumb.
“No need for tears either, you’ll get everything back. I can get you any pills you want, so long as you follow through on our agreement.”
I wipe my running nose with the back of my hand and Damien cups my head, bending forward until my cheek rests against his chest, confusion mixing with comfort.
Once my sobs subside, he tilts my chin again, not caring about the damp circles on his shirt.
“And what have I agreed to?” I whisper.
A soft smile graces his lips, then he stands, bringing me to my feet, moving me aside just long enough to slam the door, then forcing my body back against it.
“When you do it,” he says, lips finding my ear. “When you take them, I want to be there.”
The answer knocks the air from my lungs, and my mind spins. The response is so peculiar, so particular to him, I have no guide.
“I’ll fuck you first, as many times and as many ways as can take, and when I’m the last man who’ll ever claim you, I’ll watch you swallow. Watch as your consciousness fades…”
Damien’s grip tightens, his torso pinning me.
His heartbeat drums against my chest, heavy and insistent, until the rhythm drowns out everything else and my pulse stumbles, then matches his.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
OPHELIA
It takesa minute before Damien releases my hands and steps back. His gaze fixes on my face, waiting, and I wait too. For revulsion, for fear. But his offer…?
It shocks me, but the thought of sharing those final moments also feelswarm.
Instead of the desperation of last time, the loneliness, there’d be comfort, arms rocking me into a final sleep. A guide making sure I won’t wake into the same devastating failure.
The temptation is so great, I lean towards him.
Then another version abruptly fills my head. Damien staring at me like some kind of disaster tourist. Dissecting me with his blank eyes. I flinch away, crossing my arms.
“No.” I speak firmly, loudly, but the wind snatches my refusal from mid-air, leaving only a tremulous whisper in its place.
“Too late for no.” His hand engulfs my cheek, skin cool against my flushed face. “You already agreed. A month of me taking whatever I want from you, and—”
“I don’t need the fucking glasses if I’m dead, do I?”
His palm remains pressed against my cheek, thumb stroking my jawline. “No, you don’t, but those were the terms.”
“And you think I’ll do it on your timetable just because you tell me?”
