Chapter 10: Blood Bloom
1313 Words
Aria’s heart pounded so hard it echoed in her ears. The room was quiet except for the heavy breaths between them. She sat on the edge of the bed, legs tucked beneath her, wrapped in one of Damien’s dark shirts. The fabric swallowed her frame, soft against her skin but thick with his scent. It made her both nervous and comforted.
He was across the room, shirtless, his strong back facing her as he poured a glass of water. The soft lamplight caught the outline of his muscles, shadows dancing with every shift he made. Something about the way he moved tonight felt different. Slower. Tense.
She bit her lip. "You don’t have to stay, you know. I’m fine."
Damien turned slowly, glass in hand, eyes fixed on her. "You’re not fine. And even if you were, I’d still stay."
She looked down, fingers tightening around the hem of the shirt. The blood between her thighs made her feel vulnerable in a way she didn’t know how to explain. But it wasn’t just the physical discomfort—it was the weight of everything they hadn’t said, all pressed into this one fragile moment.
“You didn’t say anything when I told you,” she whispered, still not meeting his eyes. “Most guys would’ve—”
“Left?” he interrupted, voice low. “I’m not most guys, little fire.”
Her gaze snapped up to him. That name again.
“You keep calling me that,” she murmured.
“Because that’s what you are,” Damien said, crossing the room to her. “Small and fierce. Burning, even when you’re breaking.” He crouched in front of her, resting a hand gently on her knee. "And tonight… you don’t have to hide anything from me."
The heat in her cheeks rose fast. He didn’t flinch, didn’t recoil at the thought of her bleeding. Instead, he sat there like it didn’t matter at all.
“I’ve never…” Her voice faltered.
He looked up at her, steady and calm. “I know.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “How?”
“I just do. Doesn’t matter how. What matters is that we don’t do anything you’re not ready for.”
There was silence between them for a while. Not awkward. Just… full. Like words were too small for what was swirling between their chests.
Aria placed her hand over his. “I want to. I want you, Damien. Even now.”
His jaw tightened. “You’re bleeding, Aria. I don’t want you to feel like you have to prove anything to me.”
“I’m not,” she said softly. “I just… I don’t want to wait anymore.”
He studied her for a long moment. Then he stood, pulling her gently to her feet. “Then let me show you how it should be.”
---
They didn’t rush. Every movement was careful, every touch like a vow. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, the corners of her trembling lips. He whispered things she wouldn’t remember fully, but her body would—things about how beautiful she was, how soft, how strong.
When he undressed her, he did so slowly, with reverence. He didn't flinch at the blood. Instead, he wiped it gently from her thighs with a warm towel, his touch almost holy in its care.
“You’re not dirty,” he said when he caught her trying to apologize.
Her breath hitched. He always seemed to know what she was thinking.
“You’re mine,” he added, eyes locking with hers. “Every part of you. Especially this.”
And when he laid her down and joined her, there was no shame, no fear. Only heat, and ache, and a love too fierce for words.
---
She curled against him afterwards, head on his chest, his hand tracing lazy patterns on her back. Her whole body hummed with unfamiliar soreness, but also something else. Something calm.
She felt different.
“I didn’t think I could feel safe,” she whispered.
“With me?”
“With anyone.”
Damien’s arm tightened around her. “I’m not perfect, Aria. I’ve done things you’d hate me for. But this—what we have—I won’t ruin it. I’ll protect it. I’ll protect you.”
She closed her eyes, listening to his heartbeat. It was strong. Steady. Real.
“I’m scared,” she admitted.
“So am I,” he replied. “But I’d burn the world for you, little fire. Just say the word.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks, quiet and warm. She didn’t speak. Didn’t have to. Because for once, she believed him.
And somehow, that was enough.
His touch was slow. Reverent. As if he was memorizing every inch of her.
Damien's eyes darkened with something deeper than lust—it was longing, restraint, and devotion all tangled into one smoldering look. He cupped her face, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone, the calloused pad catching on her soft skin.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured, voice husky and low. "Say the word, little fire, and I’ll walk away."
But Aria didn’t want him to.
She didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Her heart thudded against her chest, and instead of answering, she reached up—fingers trembling—and pulled him closer by his shirt.
Their lips met softly at first. A feather-light kiss that sent shivers down her spine. Then he kissed her again—deeper, firmer—his hands sliding into her hair. She melted into it, into him. The world fell away.
His lips traced a slow path along her jaw, behind her ear, then returned to claim her mouth once more, more possessive this time. His kiss tasted of sin and sanctuary.
Her fingers tangled in his dark hair, holding him close, needing more. Needing him.
His lips moved like a slow-burning flame down her throat, placing kisses that stole her breath. Every inch of her skin he touched sparked something new, something wild inside her. She had never been kissed like this—like she was precious and dangerous all at once.
Damien's hands gripped her waist, steady but gentle, as if afraid she might break. His mouth left a trail of warmth from her collarbone, down to the curve of her shoulder, then lower… until he stopped right above her waist.
He paused there.
Breathing heavy, lips barely brushing her skin.
Her chest rose and fell with every heartbeat, every ounce of anticipation trembling in the air between them. The room was quiet—save for their breaths, mingling in the dim glow of the chandelier above.
Damien lifted his head slowly, eyes locking with hers. There was heat in them. But also restraint. Control. Worship.
"Aria..." His voice cracked a little. "You have no idea how much I want you right now. But I need to be sure."
She nodded, her hands clutching his arms like an anchor. "I’m sure," she whispered. "Just… don’t stop."
He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. "You smell like blood," he murmured softly, almost apologetically. "You're on your period, aren’t you?"
Her breath caught, the question so intimate, so raw, that it made her pulse skip.
Still, she nodded. Vulnerable. "I am."
He didn’t flinch. He didn’t move away.
Instead, his thumb brushed the edge of her jaw with surprising tenderness.
"Then you’re more mine tonight than ever," he whispered. "You’re untouched, and you trust me with all of you. That means more than you know."
She blinked back sudden tears. She didn’t know why—but those words… they broke something open in her.
His mouth returned to hers, and this time the kiss was deeper. Hungrier. But still patient, still careful. He made her feel like a queen, like a goddess, like a flame he’d burn the world just to hold.
- Writer
