Not those words . . .
How many times have we said that to each other? Maybe hundreds, I wouldn’t know. I started it at some point when we were kids. He was always so sad, and when I had to startdefending him from the bullies, I comforted him with that phrase. And I meant it, of course.
But it’s not just that, no. I’m overwhelmed by a very vivid memory, a moment in time when those same words meant everything to me: my seventeenth birthday. My heart beats even faster than it did that day. And I feel so much, so intensely.
The smell of the forest and cigarette smoke combined, the crackling of the fire and the constant stream of the creek close to our tent. The image of his innocent smile when I asked if he’d consider running away with me. It washes over me, all of it painted by a different light now.
The memory of my hand ruffling his curls that day on the camping grounds brings a phantom sensation to my fingers. Right after he’d said those exact same words to me, when I’d needed them the most.
But I shouldn’t be taking it the way I am. I can’t twist and turn the past to fit my preferred narrative. Damien doesn’t mean it like I want him to. I’m just really fucked-up. And yet, I plant a soft kiss on top of his head, like I did so many times throughout the years. I just can’t stop myself.
Damien giggles and wraps an arm around my waist. I bite the inside of my cheeks to keep the noises I want to make from escaping me. His touch feels so good, I’m terrified of what I might do. It’s a million times more intense than what happened with Caleb earlier. The real thing is . . . just extraordinary. I take a deep breath of his scent, feeling my eyes start to burn and threaten to light up.
“Killi?” Damien whispers into my neck, making my heart skip a beat. He sounds so innocent, so soft and fragile when he calls me that.
“Y-yes?”
“I love you, more than anything.”
Oh, God—Please, don’t say that!
I’m shaking, and he must be feeling it. And yet, he doesn’t move. He stays right there, with an arm wrapped around me and his face so close to my neck that his eyelashes tickle my skin. I stop breathing, I think. My dick is hard as granite, and I have to push my hips back against the wall, trying not to touch his legs accidentally. This is torture, and I don’t know if I can hold myself together much longer.
“I love you too, Damien,” I whisper. My eyes fill up with tears, but I don’t let them roll down my cheeks.
Needless to say, it takes me a very long time to fall asleep. I actually think I won’t be able to, given the painful erection and the amount of tension and guilt that clouds my brain. But after Damien falls asleep in my arms, I find myself calming down. I feel comfortable with his steady deep breaths, the warmth of his skin, and his arm holding me even tighter once he drifts out of consciousness. Just like he’s always done.
At some point, I come to realize that the only place I feel truly safe is in Damien’s arms. And that thought alone warms my heart up and makes me forget that I’m not supposed to be having these kinds of feelings.
Damien is my home. My safe place. My purpose. He’s the only thing that truly matters, and being so close to him feels like absolute perfection. I take a deep breath of his honey-like scent and bury my face in his soft curls, allowing the heat of his body against mine to lull me to sleep.
It’s us against the world. Always.
Sixteen
Damien
Ideserve a gold medal for my good behavior last night.
I must say, I didn’t think I could manage it. But I did. Oh,I did. And it paid off big-time. Killien is nothing but sweet this morning. I woke up to him still sleeping soundly next to me. He had even wrapped both of his arms around my shoulders, and was holding me so tightly that I struggled to break free. Not that I wanted to, really. The boner I woke up with was tempting me to do inappropriate things, so I had to.
There’s no erasing the smile from my face. Not when Killien sits close to me on the sofa, like he hasn’t in a while. His thigh is pressed against mine, and his elbow rests on my waist as hescrolls through his phone. We’re watching the news, looking out for any new information on his little killing rampage.
Now that I’ve had time to process it and calm down, I’m actually quite proud of my brother. I didn’t know he had it in him. I’ve seen him fight before, but that was always to defend me, and he never hurt his opponents more than enough to make them back off—for the most part. This is a new side of him I’m very eager to explore. I wanna test him, push him to his limits. It’s a whole new level of sexual fantasy that scratches a very particular and scary itch in my brain.
Anyway, there is no news about the gruesome murders in the alleyway. The police have cleaned up the scene and taken everything. They have no leads at the moment. No security cameras, no witnesses, no obvious motivation behind the carnage, other than violence for the sake of violence.
Oh, how I wish I could have seen it happen . . .
Killien has just told me everything about how it went. It must have been such a beautiful display of vampire power. I’m getting horny just from thinking about his hands all bloody and his fangs ripping someone’s throat out. Fuck, that would be the hottest thing ever. We need to go hunting and do more shit like that together. We’ll be unstoppable.
At least Killien had been calm and collected enough to sneak away from the scene without leaving any clues. He’d said he’d broken into an apartment to use the shower and steal some clothes, which is why he smelled like goddamn chamomile shampoo. That seriously eased my mind, because I was worried he’d ended up picking a human lover, and showering in her—or his?—house. I feel much better about the whole thing now.
“Have you talked to Jacob?” he asks.
“No.” Why does he have to bring him up? I still wanna punch Jacob’s pretty face for the things he said.
“Maybe you should call him . . .”
