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Fuck, she was destroying the coldness I had built up around me. Every day, a piece chipped off and I felt more. I hurt more.
Danni’s voice blasted into my head through telepathy. She was one of the rare few who could speak telepathically long distances. “Don't you dare give up on her, Damien. Stop thinking of yourself and help her get through this.”
“Tell your woman to stay out of my head.” I yanked the phone from my ear, tapped end, and tossed it on the kitchen counter.
Running my hand through my black, jagged strands, I approached the room and turned the doorknob. Her body blocked the door, so she slid across the floor as I shoved it open before closing it again.
I crouched beside her and her eyes flicked open. I tensed, ready for another battle, but instead, they weren’t filled with bloodlust. They were soft.
“Damien?”
“Yeah, baby.” The insanity passed—for now. Until dusk. Then it would start all over again. She was like this during the day, her normal self, confused and scared. That’s what fucked me up the most.
I slipped an arm under her back and the other under her thighs, picking her up and striding over to the bed. I gently laid her onto the mattress and straightened the twisted sheets, pulling them up over her. She gripped the edge and I noticed her fingernails were all chipped, some of them bleeding.
I ground my teeth. This shouldn’t fuckin’ be happening to her, damn it.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered in a husky voice. “For last night.”
She said that pretty much every morning for the past two weeks, and yet she had no recollection of what she’d done. It wasn’t hard to figure out with the scratches on my neck and arms. Now I knew why Jedrik had left chains hanging on the bedposts. I had to admit, I’d been too cocky, thinking I’d be able to control her with muscle power alone.
And in the beginning, I could, but it was becoming worse, and soon I’d be forced to use the chains on her at night.
“I know.” And I did. I saw it in her beaten expression, her eyes drawn and tired. There was no spark, no stubborn gleam.
“Leave me here.” Her voice was barely a whisper and was harsh, probably because of her screaming. “Go home, Damien.”
I snorted. “You’re not getting off that easy.”
She half-smiled; then it fell away. “This is my fault. I did this. I can’t… I can’t do this any longer.” She paused. “And neither can you.” A tear escaped the corner of her eye and I almost reached out to wipe it away.
Do not go near her. I had to keep myself distant. Couldn’t get too close. “You have to eat, Abby. I’ll make you soup. How about mushroom?” I didn’t wait for a response and headed for the door.
“How long, Damien? How long can we do this for?” she asked when my hand reached for the doorknob.
Balen said it could be months, years, or there was a good possibility she’d die. Her and the child. My fuckin’ child and my little red-haired pixie witch.
I flung open the door then said, “As long as it takes, Abbs. As long as it fuckin’ takes.”
