For seven years, I'd survived by depending on nobody. People could promise protection one moment and betray you the next, so I'd built my life around never giving anyone the power to hurt me.
Then Damon Blackthorne had appeared, arrogant and infuriating, making me question rules I'd followed for years. I hated that, especially because I'd trusted him without hesitation when the tunnel exploded.
After showering, I dressed in black leggings and an oversized shirt, dried my hair, and inspected the cut on my cheek. It wasn't serious, although Elowen would probably disagree.
I had just reached for my coffee when someone knocked.
"Who is it?" I asked.
"Damon." He said.
Of course.
I opened the door to find him freshly showered in a clean black shirt, his neck wound cleaned but his expressi
