Chapter 54 Chapter 54
DAMON'S POV
I didn’t move at first.
I just stood there, breathing hard, and watching Anna stare at me.
The way she looked at me—worried, soft, and completely unaware of the storm raging inside me—was unbearable. My chest tightened. Every instinct in me screamed to push her away, to shut the door and let her run, but another, far more dangerous part of me, wanted to collapse into her concern, wanted to let her in.
She stepped closer, her eyes moving to the cuts on my hands, to the thin streak of blood that had run down my jaw, and her lips parted like she wanted to speak, but she hesitated.
I didn’t give her the chance.
“Damon… you’re hurt...” she whispered. Her voice was gentle, almost trembling, and something about it twisted in my chest.
“I’m fine,” I lied. My voice was deep, hard, but she didn’t seem convinced.
She never did.
“I need… your first aid kit to take care of your wound before it gets worse.” she murmured, walking inside and glancing around the room as if she expected it to appear magically.
I shook my head. “It’s fine. Really.”
She frowned, her brow knitting together, her hands pressing to her hips in a way that made me hate myself. “It’s… over there,” I replied finally, my throat tight as I nodded toward a drawer in the corner. “Be careful. Don’t cut yourself looking for it.”
Anna paused, just for a moment, before moving, and I realized I had never really looked at her.
I had been so obsessed with keeping her alive until her birthday, so obsessed with preventing myself from repeating the mistake I had made with Isabella, that I hadn’t allowed myself to notice how… stunning she was.
And now, seeing her kneeling there, reaching for the first aid kit, I couldn’t look away.
Her hair fell over her shoulders in loose strands, soft and shining in the dim lantern light. Her eyes—wide, innocent, and impossibly bright—looked up at me briefly, and I felt my chest tighten. She reminded me of Isabella in ways I hated, her kindness, her gentle curiosity, and her trust.
But Anna wasn’t Isabella. She hadn’t been broken, and hadn’t been mine to lose… yet.
I had spent years punishing myself for what I had done. For failing to control my hybrid side, for letting the monster inside me take her from me, and for accidentally killing Isabella, the only person I had ever loved.
And I hated myself for it.
Anna was insanely beautiful, but her innocence only made her more dangerous to me. If I allowed myself to notice it, if I let my thoughts wander… I could fall in love with her like my brother did.
And I had promised myself that I could never fall in love—not again. I couldn’t.
Not after what happened with Isabella.
So I forced my mind back on track, reminding myself why I couldn’t let myself care, why I had to stay cold, why I had to keep my head clear.
“You… you need to be careful,” she said softly, glancing at my hands and then at the messy room. “I don’t want you hurting yourself more than you already have.”
Her words were innocent, almost pleading, and even as I tried to steel myself, even as I told myself to look away, I couldn’t.
Amna was kneeling there, fumbling slightly with the first aid kit, and she was… impossibly sexy, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Her fingers brushed the hem of the drawer as she pulled it open, and I watched every motion. “Here… is this it?” she asked, holding the first aid kit up slightly as if to check with me.
“Yes,” I answered, my voice rough. “That’s it. Don’t spill anything.”
She tilted her head, biting her lip, and I noticed the soft curve of her jaw, the way the light caught her hair. “You really don’t want me to help?” she asked again, almost whispering, as she kneeled closer.
I shook my head, forcing myself to sound firm. “Just be careful, Anna!”
She didn’t argue, but her hands lingered on the kit for a moment longer before she brought it back to me and set it gently on the floor. Then she looked up at me, cheeks flushed, and said softly, “Sit down, Damon!”
Her voice trembled in that small, human way that made my chest ache, and I hated myself for noticing. I hated that her simple concern—the smallest thing—was enough to make my mind spiral and my body tense in ways I wasn’t supposed to feel.
I didn’t answer, didn’t move.
Anna didn't stop for a second either.
She knelt before me, reaching for my hands, her fingers moving over the bloodied cuts. I wanted to pull away, wanted to growl at her, but I couldn’t. Her warmth, her nearness, was pulling at something inside me I had thought I’d buried forever.
But I was still scared of falling in love with her.
“You need to take off your shirt,” she whispered suddenly, but softly, like she was embarrassed to ask.
Even her voice sounded extremely sexy.
I froze.
“Why?”
“So I can clean the wound properly, Damon,” she answered, avoiding my gaze. “You can’t just let it sit like this. You’ll get infected.”
I stared at her.
Then my eyes moved to the careful way she opened the kit, and the gentle way she pulled out bandages and antiseptic. I looked at the way her hair fell over one shoulder, loose, soft, and framing her face in a way that made my chest tighten. I had no right to want her or let my guard down. And yet… every instinct in me was betraying me.
I gritted my teeth and finally took off my shirt.
She flinched slightly at the sight of the blood and scratches, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned a little closer, her breath catching as her eyes traced the bruises on my skin.
“Damn… what did you do to yourself?” she whispered, barely audible.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t trust my voice.
Her hands trembled as she reached for my arm, and she hesitated—just long enough for me to see the fear in her eyes—not fear of me, but fear of hurting me.
“It’s okay,” I said quietly, surprising myself. “Just… do whatever you need to do.”
She swallowed and nodded once.
Then she dipped the cloth into the antiseptic, blew on it lightly, and pressed it to my knuckles. The sting hit first, but I barely felt it.
What I did feel was her.
My own breath stopped.
She brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, muttering quietly as she focused on the cuts. “Okay… clean first, then disinfect, then wrap. Don’t move. Please don’t move, Damon.”
Her voice cracked near the end, and that tiny crack nearly destroyed me.
I studied her as she worked—the curve of her cheek, the way her lashes lowered when she concentrated, the gentle movement of her lips as she whispered instructions to herself. And when her eyes lifted to check if I was okay, they softened in a way that made something in my chest twist painfully.
Every time our gazes met, warmth spread through me—slow, dangerous, and impossible warmth that shouldn’t have been there at all.
“Damon… what happened?” she asked suddenly, her voice soft, worried.
I froze.
My hand paused over hers, the bandage slipping slightly. I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to tell her the reason my hands were bloody, the reason my heart felt hollow even when she was near.
But I couldn’t.
“I… had a fight,” I lied, keeping my voice low, controlled, and hoping she'd believe me. “Nothing for you to worry about, Anna.”
Her eyes searched mine, wide, unrelenting. “It looks… bad. You’re covered in your own blood. The room… it’s a mess. Damon… what really happened?”
I swallowed hard.
How could I tell her that I had lost control? How could I tell her about Isabella? That I wasn’t safe? That I was dangerous in a way she couldn’t understand? That I was going to kill her on her birthday?
No. I couldn’t tell her.
“I told you,” I answered finally, keeping my tone firm, harsh even. “It’s nothing really. I’m fine.”
She frowned, frustrated, then shook her head and focused on the task at hand, ignoring my words. She cleaned the cuts on my arms next, carefully, tenderly, pressing gauze over raw skin, blowing gently to dry it before wrapping it with neat, precise movements.
Anna finished wrapping my hands finally, gently pressing the bandages, and smoothing them out with soft touches that sent shivers down my spine. She leaned back slightly, studying her work. “There,” she muttered softly. “All done. The wound would be healed in no time.”
I nodded.
Anna finished wrapping my hands, gently pressing the bandages and smoothing them out with soft, careful touches that sent shivers crawling up my arms. She leaned back a little, studying her work with a small, relieved sigh.
“There,” she whispered. “All done. The wound will heal in no time.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
She smiled—small, soft—and began to rise to her feet. “I’ll clean up the rest later. You should rest for a while. I’ll leave you to—”
“Don't leave me, Anna.”
The words slipped out before I could stop it.
Anna froze, turning slightly, her brows lifting in confusion. I didn’t know why I said that. I didn’t know what possessed me—maybe it was the warmth of her hands still lingering on my skin, or maybe it was the fear that if I let her walk out of this room, I’d never get this moment back.
Anna stared at me, stunned, lips parted as if she couldn’t decide whether to breathe or speak, but before she could take another step, my hand shot out.
I grabbed her by the waist.
She gasped, stumbling, and her body fell forward—straight into mine. The shock on her face barely had time to form before my back hit the mattress and she landed on top of me, soft, warm, and breathless.
Her palms flattened against my chest, and for a split second, everything in the world went silent.
I didn’t know why I did that.
I didn’t know why I pulled her.
I didn’t know why the words "Don't leave me, Anna." had slipped from my lips in a whisper so raw it didn’t even sound like me.
But I had said it.
And she heard it.
Her eyes widened, stunned, searching my face. “Damon…?”
My heart skipped a beat.
Because I was worried...
I was worried that I had started to fall for her. I was worried that maybe… I already had.
But I told myself I couldn’t fall.
Not again. Not after Isabella. Not after losing her because I couldn’t control the monster inside me.
I had sworn I would never love again.
Yet here Anna was.
On top of me.
Her breath mixing with mine. Her heartbeat fluttering against my chest. Her eyes searching me like she wanted to understand something I was extremely too terrified to admit.
And I couldn’t look away.
I couldn’t breathe.
And I couldn’t pretend anymore that she didn’t matter to me anymore.