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“Always,mea luna. I will always find you, no matter what.”
We climbed out of the car. As I reached the porch, Damien’s hands came over my eyes. I jumped but giggled. “What is it now?”
“The day isn’t yet over. There’s one more thing I want to show you.” His whisper was warm in my ear as he spoke, and he guided me into the house.
It boggled my mind how there could be more. The afternoon had been filled between the trip to the incline plane and dinner in the clearing at Stackhouse. He’d even offered to take me out for my first drink after we shared dinner, to which I politely declined. I wasn’t supposed to drink while on my medication, and thankfully, he hadn’t pressed.
I wasn’t sure where he led me when we came to a stop suddenly. A door creaked open, and he guided me forward before he removed his hands from my face.
Tears welled in my eyes. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, as my eyes explored the room. Shelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with all sorts of books. A single window was centered on the back wall, with a padded bench under it. Beside the bench stood an easel and an armoire, the doors open, proudly displaying an array of art supplies, more than I’d ever owned in my life. I hesitated. This couldn’t be real. I walked to the nearest shelf.
My fingers glided over the spines—all of my favorite books and authors, ones that I had in my collection that had been destroyed. I looked back over my shoulder to Damien, unable to form the words I wanted to say.
“I saw how extensive your collection was. I spoke with your mom to try and get a list of the books you had. I know we didn’t get them all, but we got most of them.Miterahelped gather everything and put the final touches on it while I had you out of the house. This room is yours now,mea luna.”
I couldn’t speak, couldn’t form thoughts as my eyes drifted across the room. He’d called my mom to ask for help. How long had he been planning this?
He nodded toward another section of the room. “You still have some shelves open if you ever want to get more, because I know you will. We can even expand and build taller shelves. I think we managed to replace most of the books you had. And...”
He handed me a book, the one I’d loaned him when he first came to my house. I knew it had only been a month since that night, but it felt like ages.
“As promised, I didn’t let Barrett ruin in.”
My heart swelled, the matte dust jacket smooth under my fingertips. This book meant so much more to me now, the only piece of my life from before. But it was also a reminder of the beginning, when we’d shared our first kiss. I looked back at the shelves, seeing all the titles I’d spent years gathering, reading, loving; the countless art supplies that I could use to draw again. My voice broke as I spoke. “You did this for me?”
He approached me. “I knew how upset you were to lose your books, and I was furious when I saw all your beautiful drawings and sketches destroyed. It doesn’t truly replace what you had, but it seemed like the perfect gift.”
I couldn’t find the words to express my gratitude, pressure building in the back of my throat as I my eyes began to burn. “I feel like thank you isn’t enough… I can’t believe you did this, Damien.”
He pulled me into him, his arms wrapping around me, and he placed a kiss to my forehead. “It’s the least I can do. Happy Birthday, mea luna.”
It wasn’t the fact that I had a library, or that I could draw again that had me on the verge of tears. It was how deeply he cared to do all this, to surprise me the way he had. I walked over to my new art corner. My fingers grazed over the pad of paper on the easel, the paper a subtle texture under my fingertips. I peered into the cabinet, and for the first time in years... I wanted to paint. I grabbed the charcoal, glancing back at Damien.
“You said if I ever wanted to draw you, all I had to do was ask, right?”
The corner of his lips curved into a crooked grin. “Yes,mea luna.”
I pulled one of the chairs over, placing it near the window, and held out my hand. “Would you do me the honor?”
He obliged, walking over to sit on the stool. I grabbed the charcoal from the cabinet and situated the pad of paper against the easel. He watched me, his face resting against his knuckle as those beautiful eyes followed my movements. I wanted to capture them, the intensity of the crystalline veins that stretched from the center. The burst of amber, like the rays of the sun peeking from the rim of his pupil, fading into warm gray. Such a contrasting color, so intense that it had burned itself into my being in a way that I couldn’t escape even if I wanted to.
“Just stay like that,mea sol.” A crooked grin barely lifted the corner of his lips, and he obeyed.
And I put the charcoal to the paper.
30
In the darkness of my dreams, I faintly felt the brush of Damien’s fingertips. They glided over my thigh, up my stomach, against my neck. The tickle sent chills over me, and I let slip a soft groan from my throat.
“Damien.” I stifled a giggle as I opened my eyes slowly. Before I could say another word though, a firm hand clamped over my mouth, and my eyes popped open.
“Shhhh. We don’t want to wake him.” Marcus' voice, a sharp whisper, filled my ears as he leaned into me. He held me down, anchoring me to the bed. His hand pressed to my mouth, as he muffled my scream against his palm.
My eyes darted around. I was still in our room. Where had Marcus come from? How had he gotten here?
“Did you have a fun reprieve little songbird?”
His free hand revealed the same knife he’d used to torment me when he imprisoned me. My blood ran cold, remembering the endless cycle of pain he put me through with it. I’d only just started to finally heal. Had it all been a dream? Had none of my time with Damien been real?
