Cold Blood

The apology almost bubbled out of her throat immediately. She could’ve called, could’ve text, even sent up some sort of smoke signal as a warning. It was polite and manners - most of them anyway - were one of the only things that had stuck with her from childhood. The problem was that those calls and messages were easier to duck out of. You changed the subject, you ended them quickly, before the words spilled from your throat and thumbs. Here it was harder to hide it all, even if you were clinging to a box of Thin Mints and wailing that it was for charity.

It seemed that right now, those would be about as welcome as the news that Damien would meet his sister and get his ass kicked - possibly even killed - for it. Now she knew how Pandora felt - and her parents, they’d known the truth all along and had wanted to shield her from it - knowledge was a burden.

His oh felt like it caught in her own throat. Clea tried to swallow it back, her brows furrowing when she realised she couldn’t. ”No, my apologies. I should’ve called first. You were … busy …” There was a hint of a question in her voice that tailed off as he smiled. She’d interrupted something given the look on his face when he opened the door. He hadn’t wanted to, but would have for her. That warmed something inside, although it didn’t reach her fingers. The feeling in her throat thickened as Damian covered her hand with his, his expression shifting as he seemed to realise something was wrong. He was warm, had been that first time too, when she’d gone to sleep curled up against him and had woken up unsure of where she was, but toasty. Heat rose to her face, but none of it could rid the ice in the pit of her stomach.

Clea pressed her lips together and shook her head at his question. Maybe a few minutes, but cowardice wasn’t the cause of that chill. Her hand squeezed on his arm, the sweetheart making the backs of her eyes ache. ”Not long. You didn’t keep me waiting long.” It had felt like only a blink of an eye from when she’d been leaning on the doorbell to him opening it up. Not long enough for the nerves to bite too deep again. Now it felt like she had all the time in the world. ”You don’t have to go through all that trouble for me…” she started. Maybe it would make it easier somehow though. Some distraction from what she was about to lay on him.

Damian reached for her hand and Clea took it. Somehow it felt easier to breathe, to swallow away that uncertainty when his fingers were wrapped around hers. A shield he’d offered since he’d walked into that alleyway and had found his sister feeding on her. She squeezed it as he drew away to light the fire. Clea drifted just a few steps away, her arms crossed over her chest, hands cupping her elbows as she watched. He’d have given her dad a run for his money with how fast he’d got it burning for her. Her hands drifted up, rubbing her biceps as the heat began to wash across the room. ”I think you know her name already,” she said wanly. Oh, she believed he would’ve done it, squaring off against whatever threat came her way, playing that white knight for her again.

Now she needed to be his. Clea extended her hand to him, tipping her head up to look into those dark eyes. Her dad had always taken it easy with band aids, always oiling them before he took them off, but this was one she needed to just rip off, no matter what. ”I had another dream.” It had been one that had led him to him before, to stand between him and the guy holding the cards where it came to his sister’s location. She’d seen temper flare, like the flames he’d just stoked, in his eyes then, had tried to soothe the burn of them by sweet talking the information about the hotel out of him. It had been a bust, but from the looks of things Damian’s sister had decided to return to the scene of the crime. ”About your sister, and you. She’s back at the hotel … now I think … but if you go there …” She swallowed hard, shaking her head. ”You’re going to fight and it’s not going to go well. You’re going to …” Her frown deepened. Clea lifted her other hand, her fingers grazing his cheek lightly. Blood there later, staining his lips, his life slipping away.

Tagged: DAMIAN * Word Count: 834

Clea’s lips pressed together to stop the almost desperate sound slipping out between them. Her throat was so tight, like her vocal cords would snap with the delivered blow of her words. It was supposed to be Damian’s sister who took him down to his knees, but right now the power to make that happen lay in her hands and he was trying to make her feel better about the whole thing. She tried to swallow that feeling away, bringing her other hand up in a light fist to press the backs of her fingers against her lips. He wouldn’t be happier in just a few minutes, she’d have gutted him instead.

She went with Damien, letting him guide her inside. He wanted to take care of her, the same way she wanted to take care of him now, for all he’d done, for who he’d been since he’d given up on chasing his sister to take care of one of her victims. God, he had no clue yet that the only thing that was making her sick was the story she wasn’t telling. ”I thought that germs were off limits here, ‘specially with my nurse standing by.” It was a weak joke, one that came with a smile that didn’t make it all the way to her eyes. She’d tried in the dream to return the favour, but it had been the way it was with her dad in that first dream, all the life – the incredible light that drew people to them – spilling out into her hands.

Refusing to look at them, Clea curled them around herself instead. She couldn’t hold the news in, only hold herself together until she got it out, and then if he would let her, hold Damian together instead as maybe he was torn apart again by that decision whether to step back, or whether to finally lay hands on his sister. ”Alina,” Clea echoed hoarsely. Trying to ward off the bad news, she took his hand, clinging on like it would somehow make the news easier. Oh. Yeah. His lips thinned and she wanted to brush her thumb over them to break that stiff line.

They tugged into a smile a moment later, small, but undeniably there. Clea’s thumb settled at the point of her chin, worry for him twisting at her stomach. ”It’s not your feelings I’m worried about. It’s you.” Although they were one and the same really. She’d only been a baby when her sister had been killed, but just hearing about it later had torn a ragged hole in her heart. What would it do to you when you were the one whose hand was on the weapon? Somehow she doubted that Alina would feel the same. That was what vampires were like, weren’t they? They turned and suddenly it was a lump of coal in their chests instead of a heart, at least with the ones she’d ended up against.

Her eyes widened at the laugh that rolled out of him. Damian’s hand covered hers, easing it from his cheek. Easing away from her entirely. There was another hole opening up in her, surprisingly deep and painful. ”You don’t have to,” she said in a rush, staring at his back as he walked away from her. Clea’s arms went back around herself, every clink of the glass making some nerve jump beneath her skin before he slammed his glass down and had her flinching. ”If you don’t go after her, it’ll be different. She won’t get the chance to kill you.” Maybe. God she hated this, all the ifs, the infinite possibilities to sift through where the majority turned out badly.

It seemed as though Alina had already jabbed a blade in her brother’s back. Clea could almost see it there, twisting just out of his grip while Damian seethed. She frowned, wanting to go to him, to soothe the sting of the news. Her eyes searched his face as he turned to her, settling on his eventually. ”I don’t know what happened between the two of you…” Or what he’d meant by this – Angry? Bitter? Almost certainly hurt. She took a step towards him, wanting to reach out again, but not wanting him to pull away from her again. ”To see you hurt? Yeah. It scared me.” To know that she could lose him. It had been a blade to her own chest.

Woah. There was no way she was expecting him to turn his back on his sister – just to watch it, to try things another way. Clea took a step forward, her hand up to ward off the idea that she was the one who was going to end up hurt here. ”You can’t do it like this. I’ll help you, we’ll find a way to help your sister, but I can’t just sit here while you storm in there and she kills you. Just don’t go today … maybe that’ll be enough to change things. I -I don’t know yet, but maybe if we leave it another night the dream’ll change and you’ll be OK. Can you give me that long? Please?” There was a pleading edge to her voice as she stopped in front of him. She expected Damian to pull away, to push her away, but she settled her hand on his chest, her fingers curling into his shirt. Oh, she wasn’t below begging, not when it avoided her worst nightmare.

Tagged: DAMIAN * Word Count: 910

Thanks to her dad she could probably patch up a physical wound, a minor one at least. Pressure, pressure could help almost anything, but it did nothing to stop the emotional bleeding. Clea felt like she’d opened up a wound a mile wide as she’d set aside the jokes and wiped the smile off of Damian’s face with just a few words. From the moment he’d found her in that alleyway it had been his hands covering her wounds – the physical and the emotional, the ones she didn’t even know she’d had – but hers wouldn’t do the same. How did you do that once you’d opened them up?

Damien had inches on her, probably weighed twice what she did, but if wrapping herself around him here would prove any sort of anchor, she’d do it and hold on for however long it took his sister to leave town. Someone like her would surely draw the wrong attention somewhere, some hunter would drive a stake home through her heart so Damian wouldn’t have to do it himself. It wouldn’t have to be his hand on the stake, his heart shattering afterwards.

Clea shook her head, the tears burning hotter in her eyes. She peeled a hand off of her arm to knuckle them away. ”You don’t.” she argued, wondering if it would be worse to offer to find someone who would do this. Someone she knew had to … there were plenty in this town like her family after all. People who’d lived through the worst of it, just the way Damian already had. They wouldn’t have any sympathy for a woman who’d feasted her way through town. She probably didn’t know the real way of any of this, but she knew her own abilities and they had been what had driven her here in the first place. They could try, twisting this any way they could, but as long as Damian ended up in that hotel room today, chances were he would die. Clea pressed her lips together, shaking her head. ”It’s not likely. That’s why I don’t want you to go.” But her desires had nothing to do with this, did they? It was between Damian and her sister and her abilities – and Alina’s hunger – had just thrown her in the middle of it.

Tell me. The words almost burst out of her, but Clea felt them stop in her throat like thorns. Now could be the right time, death turned aside by the truth that would be shared between the two of them. Her arms tightened around herself, her weight sending her swaying as she fought against moving towards him. ”She’s the one who should apologise, not you.” It seemed as though Alina’s fingerprints were all over Damian’s misery. Closer now, Clea could see the softening in his expression. ”Nothing’s going to change the way I see you. When you could have gone after her, you chose to save me. That’s the man I know, the one I believe in.” There had been that flash of someone else, of that burning anger in the alleyway, but in the end Damian had chosen to let her try. She couldn’t believe he would’ve hurt that man, or anybody else. Except for his sister.

There was that tenderness she knew filtered through every part of him – his hand rising to rest on her cheek as she held onto him, that anchor she’d considered being. Clea nuzzled her cheek into his touch, brushing her lips into the heel of his palm before she let out a small sound of amusement. ”You deserve someone to. What your sister has done to you … that’s not love, that’s not care. You need to trust that.” Like he trusted her. The admission had a sob rolling through her. Alina might’ve been sipping champagne, or some poor victim’s blood in the hotel, but the real damage was already being done here. ”Then please trust me now and don’t go.” The clock was already ticking down in Damian’s head and now rattled in her bones. She’d always coped with being the one to leave, not looking back, not worrying too much about if she’d see someone again, because that was the way her life was. From the start Damian had been something different.

Swaying closer, Clea wanted to drop her head and curl into him, like she had done that first night here. He was safety, from his sister, from the other things that tore this town apart while calling it home. ”I’m not weak,” Clea promised. ”You’ve seen what I can do. If she does come for me, I can fight and I will stop her this time.” Only she hadn’t in the dream, had she? She’d failed and Damian had been hurt, and every time she’d woken up before Alina had died – if she ever did. ”I can’t bear the thought of losing you either, which is why I’m begging now. Do you think I’m gonna be able to cope with knowing that you went there because I told you where she was?” That double edged sword was running right through her.

The tears broke over her lashes as he smiled at her. He’d always been a huge presence – big, strong, scary if you couldn’t see the man beneath like she could. Clea tried to swallow the tears back, to trust him as he asked, but she’d also learned to trust in her own abilities and this was a war between those beliefs. ”Let me come with you?” she asked, resting her forehead against the hand he had settled over hers. ”I know you want to protect me, but I want to do the same. Maybe if I’m there? I can stop it.” She lifted her head, drawing in a deep breath before she pressed her lips to his almost fiercely. ”It’s … the suite on the 9th floor. Please, don’t let her hurt you…” The words felt like they shivered their way free as she spoke them against his mouth. A plea for the universe to make her a liar for once.

Tagged: DAMIAN * Word Count: 1018

She couldn’t even pretend to know what Damian’s relationship with his sister was really like. The morning after Alina had bitten her some of the story had spilled out – enough that she could piece together what had happened to her at least – but those tiny, obviously painful details of what had gone on between the siblings were lost to her. The truth of it would probably explain why all of this was so inevitable for him (there had to be some way out) and why Alina hated her brother so much. Demanding it now was wrong though. Could she have pulled out all the details she knew when she’d first met SJ in the farmhouse? No, these things took time, and in Damien’s soft words Clea could tell they didn’t have it. His mind was made up.

The part of her that had seen shook with fear and anger. Clea’s throat grew tight again, the words there has to be stoppered in it. She couldn’t tell him a way and that pained her, although not as much as the thought of losing him. If there was one cell in Alina’s body that still cared for her brother she wouldn’t do this. Damian seemed to think that all of that had been boiled out of her at the turning though, his belief now breaking her heart. ”You think she’s incapable of it now?” she asked hoarsely, although she knew the truth. Like Morgan had been destroyed by that thing that had possessed her friends, what Alina had become had destroyed her, leaving someone that looked the same before, but wasn’t the sister Damian must have believed she was during her human life. Although, Clea supposed, she didn’t know what that woman had been like either.

Damian might have been holding a million things back from her – things he was ashamed of, that he thought she somehow couldn’t understand or forgive – but whatever they were didn’t matter. She’d done regretful things of her own, had seen what good people were truly like (and she wouldn’t have counted herself amongst them too often), and she knew that Damian was one of them, no matter what had happened in that alleyway. The corner of her mouth twitched up, her smile sad, but genuine. ”I swear, you never have to be anxious with me. I know who you really are.” And if that man did break the fate her dreams had laid out and killed his sister, he would hurt for having had to do it. The first night she’d met, he’d been there to pick her up and carry her out, and although her chances of actually sweeping him off his feet without using every ounce of power inside herself (and causing a nosebleed that would gush like a firehouse), she would carry him in other ways.

Wisdom wasn’t one of those ways. She definitely wasn’t anything like her parents that way, but her words had to have hit. Clea watched him blink at her, the stuttered start of something jamming itself up in her mouth. It had been too much, instead of convincing him of something, she’d sucker punched him with – alright, it had been the truth – something he didn’t need to hear right at this minute, even if he should’ve heard it before. Clea swallowed back the apology, reaching up to curl her fingers around his wrist to squeeze lightly in reassurance. Only Damian was giving it to her, instead of the other way around. ”But you can’t do what I ask, not matter how much you trust me,” she said almost matter of factly. Her breath huffed out into the cradle of his palm. There was no question to that now. He’d made up his mind. He was going, he was going to get hurt, and while she – and they, if somehow Damian survived it – picked up the pieces, Alina would stroll away again to hurt someone else.

Please, please, please. Clea wasn’t sure whether the plea was meant to be for some higher power to intercede, or to silently convince Damian that this was a good move. The smile his admission brought on was strained, but it was a smile instead of a sob rolling out as she looked up at him. ”Good,” she breathed. ”It’s probably wrong of me, but if I can still find some way to get you to stay, I’ll do it. If I have to come along with you, or fight Alina when she comes for me, I’ll do that too.” Anything to avoid that loss, that small piece of her that glowed even now being torn out of her. Of course, he didn’t doubt her, even if his pet name for her made her feel small and delicate – and warmed her heart – he trusted her. ”If you believe in them, and you trust me, then please…” Another plea that seemed to break off in her mind before she found the whole truth of it. ”I won’t regret that, just that I couldn’t save you,” Clea admitted hoarsely. What good was the power to see if it didn’t allow you to save the lives of the people who meant most to you?

The thought cut deep, slicing through all her desire to stop him now. It wouldn’t work, all it would do was drive him to go alone and then there really was no hope. Clea saw Damian’s shoulders slump with resignation in the heartbeat before she kissed him. For months it felt as though they’d danced around this, Damian’s toes right up to the line and every time she could have leaned in, she hadn’t. That was one regret right there, leaving this until it was a matter of do it now or never be able to. God, if she’d known. Everything they could be poured into it with all she hadn’t said. It almost felt wrong to punctuate it with the location of the room where Damian could die. Clea pressed her lips to the back of Damian’s hand as he thanked her. It was a promise she wasn’t sure he could keep, but she wanted so badly to believe.

Drawing in a breath, Clea looked up as he gave in. Her smile was flickering back, the knot in her chest beginning to unravel. At least with her there it was two against one. ”Thank God,” she said softly. ”D-don’t take too long. I’ll be ready.” She squeezed his hand as he stepped back, the feel of his lips still there on her forehead. He vanished upstairs, leaving her to wander over to the fire, Clea held her hands out, warming fingers that were warmer than when she’d arrived, but were still colder than she liked. It took a good five minutes for them to feel thawed, five minutes for her to realise that moving fast had suddenly turned to this was far too slow. Her heart fluttered almost painfully in her chest as she started up the stairs. It didn’t take more than a few seconds to tear through the place and realise that he’d decided to protect her after all. ”You promised.” The words whispered out of her, cold, painful. With the tears in her eyes the only that was burning, Clea tore back downstairs and ran for her car.

Tagged: DAMIAN * Word Count: 1219

It was hard to imagine the woman who’d tried to bleed her dry in that alleyway as caring or nice. She’d been charming, Clea supposed, but at the end of the day she knew that all she had been to Alina was a meal, to Damian she’d been so much more - someone, it seemed, nobody got to see now. In telling her of the woman Alina had once been, he was revealing just as much about himself, more than she’d known until now. It had been the two of them, almost the same way it had just been the three of them when she’d grown up - her, her mom, her dad, a tight little family that she still felt a little guilty for tearing apart. She wondered how much guilt Damian was carrying on his shoulders for what had happened to his sister. Was that what he was reluctant to tell her? The awful truth about what had happened to cost him the sister he’d known?

Seeing his expression soften as he promised to tell her at some point, Clea wanted to draw him into a hug, to hold him until the damn inside of him broke loose and he was able to let out whatever he thought would tear her away from him. He knew now that she’d hang on by her nails no matter what it was she was going to hear. ”Okay,” Clea said softly, nodding. She was impatient most of the time, had been the sort of kid who could drive everybody around her absolutely insane with questions, but for this she could wait, keeping her hands cupped, so to speak, ready to catch and hold onto whatever Damian trusted her with. His eyes moved away from hers, but she smiled almost sadly all the same. Her cheek pressed into his palm, her fingers tracing the thin skin of the inside of his wrist slowly. ”That makes two of us this brings no joy to.” The only joy she would’ve got was convincing him to stay, but with each passing minute it seemed less and less likely that Damian would accept her warning and stay right here.

Laying on the guilt to make it happen felt a little shitty, but it was better having to apologise later - having the opportunity to apologise, than losing any chance of him staying alive. She looked rueful as she told him in no uncertain words that she’d come along at least, the sorry filling her eyes as he started to mutter about her under his breath (well, her name had been in the mix somewhere). ”Please.” It was a hoarse plea, repeated like the word alone was a battering ram that would eventually smash through his determination to keep her away from the fight and safe. Clea let out a ragged breath when it eventually worked, the final blow, she was sure, delivered by the kiss that she finally gave him. All those months dancing around it, with Damian slowly eroding her own barriers. She didn’t bounce on her toes in joy, but it was a close run thing. Clea’s smile filled with relief, her fingers squeezing his as they parted. Winning had always felt good, this was different though. It was like a tiny cog had slipped into place in her chest, everything whirring away differently now.

It should’ve been a purr, the two of them working together making all of this run smoothly. Should’ve being the operative word. She should’ve known that he’d given in too early. She should’ve know that his admissions that he was desperate to protect her and do this all himself would win out over everything. Discovering that he was gone snapped those cogs clean in half and maybe took her heart with them. Clea tore out the door, letting it bounce shut behind her. The car keys dropped from her numb fingers as she jammed them into the car door. It took three tries to start it and a screamed sob at an old man idling at a green light to work her way across town. Too long, too long. ”If you can’t drive, get off the damn road!” She felt the heat of shame work its way up into her cheeks as she tore past him. Clea dashed her tears away, still seeing the road as a blur as she screeched into the curb outside of the hotel.

Five, ten minutes tops, that was all that Damian could’ve been ahead of her now. The dark haired guy behind the counter, all glossed up and polite until he saw her go to steam past, called out to her like he was going to stop her. Clea twisted around as she ran across the lobby, her hands shaking as she threw them up at him. ”Did he go upstairs?” Confusion filled his face, his hand curling on top of the reception desk as he went to round it. God, were they all blind? She made some sound at him, unintelligible even to her and turned again, bolting for the elevator. Three slaps at the button had it pinging open in front of her. Twenty seconds maybe for the elevator to rise up through the floors, nerves fizzing and popping like live wires under her skin, threatening to burn through her. The moment the doors opened she charged out, barely stifling the shriek that tore out of her when she spotted the two men on the ground. All this time and bodies still scared the crap out of her.

Clea crept forward, one hand pressed to her stomach, the other held out to the side like she’d somehow be able to grab something and steady herself if one of them turned out to be Damian. No. It had happened in the suite, not here, with the entire place in ruins around him. Not him. The relief almost drove her to her knees as she reached the suite doors. They stood ajar, a wrecked room revealed through the gap. Blood, just as she’d seen in her vision. Bodies scattered on the ground like dolls cast aside. Damian was supposed to be one of them, that lanky form sprawled on the expensive carpet, blood and burn marks on his shirt, the eyes that were always so full of life dull and staring. She didn’t want to see, but she pushed the door open all the same. If there was a chance …

The last time she had seen Alina the brunette was blurring away from her in an alleyway, leaving behind a vague impression of a pretty face and cold eyes. Now there was a sick light in them as she stood over her brother. Damian was on the ground, blood already wicked into the fabric of his shirt. Alina was smiling, holding onto a bottle and a blade, blood already staining its silvery surface. ”Damian!” There was desperation in her voice as she threw her hands out, tossing one of the tipped over chairs in his sister’s direction, trying to drive her back and maybe even pierce what was left of the heart she’d once had with a poorly aimed leg.

”Get away from him. You’ve already hurt him, isn’t that enough for you? He’s your brother. How could you?” Confusion filled her eyes as she moved forwardly haltingly, hands still out like she could summon up some sort of shield and not just some weird magic that let her throw things through the air (still badly aimed things). ”Can you stand?” She wanted to look down at him, to cover those wounds with her hands and will those wounds away. Doing so would only leave her wide open to that bitch again though and this wasn’t the time to be putty in those vicious hands the way she’d once been.

Tagged: DAMIAN * Word Count: 1363

It was just like her dream. Laid out in a bloody tableau, caught in that breathless moment before the blade descended and punctured Damian’s chest. This time she wasn’t going to wake up, shaking, crying, hoping there was still something she could do about it. This time she stopped it here and now, or the man who’d come to mean so much to her died. Clea didn’t need to think twice. Whatever was in her welled up as it had done before, the instinct to protect, him, her own heart, even the woman Damian’s sister had once been bubbling out on that wave of power. Her bones practically vibrated with it. Her parents had tried to shield her from all of this for good reason, but now it felt as though everything that had built over the last few years to peel back the layers that had hidden it all, had brought her here.

The chair shattered usually against the wall behind Alina. A disappointment, but Clea stepped forward anyway, trying to shuffle into that no man’s land between Damian and his sister as Alina stood there silently. She didn’t trust that the vampire wouldn’t move with the speed she knew they were capable of. Green eyes remained on her, narrowed, glittering with the tears that were ready to fall. She had seen the blood on Damian, knew she was already too late to stop him being hurt, but she could still prevent his death. His voice was a reassurance, his nod a twitch she caught out of the corner of her eye. The laugh spilled out of her, squeezing past the knot in her throat. ”It looks like more than a scratch, she cut you. It’s … It’s …” She wanted to tell him that it was alright, that they’d get him to the hospital. Not right now though, not with Alina standing in front of them with the blade still in her hand.

Damian did it for her, as he stood and settled his hand on her shoulder. Finally she looked away, up at him, down to her shoulder where the blood from his hands – his blood – stained her shirt. ”N-no. She’s going to kill you, Damian … don’t …” She yelled as he stepped past her, arms stretched, inviting Alina to attack. Clea stumbled aside, trying to find some angle to help from, but it was all over and done with before she could so much as raise a hand again. Damian was on top of his sister on the ground, the tip of the stake at Alina’s chest. Clea looked around for something to keep Alina there with, because he … he couldn’t do what should’ve been done. The stake wasn’t punching through Alina’s chest as it should’ve done. The vampire took advantage of it, jabbing a leg of the chair she’d broken through Damian’s stomach. The scream rose like a tsunami in her throat. ”No!” Poor heartbreak rang in the sound as Clea fell to her knees beside them, power rippling through her but not exploding outwards to wipe out that bitch in a hail of shrapnel from what had been the expensive, now shattered furniture in the room. Damian would be caught in it too and he was … he was still breathing.

Seeing the stake tumble aside, Clea reached for it with shaking hands. Damian couldn’t do it. In the end his love for his sister was too great. She understood, after all that had happened with SJ and hearing about Morgan, Clea knew how hard it was to see something in someone you loved and be able to do nothing about it because of that love. They separated and her eyes were on him, the blood that poured from the wound in his stomach as he tried to give her forgiveness. She made a pained sound as Alina’s hand lifted with the blade in it. Clea blinked away the tears, trying to clear her vision to see where she was going to stab the stake. The vampire wasn’t moving though, she was listening to the words of love and forgiveness that spilled from her brother. With possibly his last breath he was going to give her that. A good man was going to die and she was sitting here, letting it happen.

Clea’s head dropped, tears rolling down her face. His words had as much chance as a novice with a stake in her hand didn’t they? It was the one part of all of this she hadn’t dreamed. Maybe Alina had heard them, or decided that her brother was going to die, even without the last cut. The vampire blurred out past them, the speed of her exit blowing Clea’s hair across her face, she shoved it back, throwing the now pointless stake aside. He was … moving. No, no. That was what you weren’t supposed to do when you were hurt that way, it made the bleeding worse. Clea scrambled up, reaching for him with shaking hands to stop him. One pressed to the bloodied mess of his stomach, the tears blurring everything into a red mess. ”I couldn’t sit there knowing what she was going to do. No…” she sniffled as she pressed harder against his stomach. The wound had to be bad, the leg had gone right through. Sometimes people ran on pure adrenalin didn’t they.

Her lower lip quivered as she looked up at him. Was she still going to lose him? Please God, not after he had managed to change the course of what fate said was supposed to happen here. ”No, you don’t have to apologise. You wanted to save me from seeing this, from her hurting me the way she hurt you. I understand … but I couldn’t stay away. Oh God, she … we need to call an ambulance, you need the hospital. She … r-right through… you need to lay down, s-stop the bleeding. I can’t lose you now, please…” The plea was there again, her other hand coming up to flutter gently against his cheek. It all still felt like it was balancing on a knife edge and any moment fate would decide which way to cut … possibly straight through her heart.

Tagged: DAMIAN * Word Count: 1042