Selina's POV
Damon's offer hung in the humidity of the clearing, tempting and dangerous.
His hand was a warm weight against my skin, a stark contrast to the cooling rain.
Every instinct in my wolf screamed for me to follow him, to vanish into the dark chocolate and peppermint scent of his world and never look back.
But the fog in my mind was clearing, replaced by a cold, hard clarity.
"I can't," I whispered, my voice a jagged strength.
Damon didn't pull away, but his brow furrowed. "Selina, you're hurt. Let me see your wounds."
"No, thanks. I can handle it." I hated looking so fragile in front of him.
"You don't know anything about my life." My fingers curled into the mud.
"I'd like to know if you will share your story with me." He kept his voice low.
"There's no story to tell
