I looked away, blinking furiously as tears threatened to spill. I'd spent seven years refusing to let myself remember that night for longer than a few seconds, because every memory brought back the same helplessness, the same blood, and the same knowledge that I'd survived when my father hadn't.
Damon gently turned my face toward him.
“You don't have to pretend you're fine with me.” He said.
Something inside me loosened at those words, and before I could stop myself, I leaned toward him.
He went still. His hand rose to my cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear I hadn't realized had escaped. The black veins along his arm began to fade, and the silver mark on my wrist softened from a fierce glow to a faint shimmer.
Neither of us spoke.
His gaze dropped to my lips before returning to my
