Damon’s POV
The fire had extinguished long ago, but its smell persisted, a mix of smoke and blood, intertwined with her subtle sweetness.
I lay motionless on the bed, gazing at the ceiling as moonlight seeped through the curtains. The bandages on my side itched, and the wound burned, but the discomfort wasn’t what kept me awake. It was her.
Aria moved quietly across the room, her fabric's soft rustle marking each step. She assumed I was asleep, as she always did. However, I sensed her presence even before she touched me, her scent drifting through the air like something my wolf couldn’t overlook.
“Don’t move,” she whispered, her voice low and steady. “You’ll tear the stitches again.”
Her fingers gently brushed my skin as she changed the bandage, light as air but surprisingly grounding
