Kiss Me, Damnation

XII

Adrian

She fainted before she could see the beauty of it.

The way the blade kissed flesh. The way her uncle’s screams tore the night apart. The way justice—my justice—fell like fire from the heavens.

I sat there, watching her fragile body slump forward in the ropes, and something inside me broke. Or maybe it clicked into place. Evelyn didn’t understand, not yet, but she would. One day she would see that everything I did tonight, I did for her.

She thinks I’m cruel. She thinks I’m insane. But I’m the only one who loves her enough to burn the world for her.

I wiped the blood from my hands, my eyes flicking to her uncle who was slumped in the chair, moaning, cursing, half-conscious. His finger lay on the floor like discarded trash. I could have killed him. I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But death would be too quick, too merciful.

No. He needed to live. To suffer. To carry the mark of what happens when you touch what’s mine.

“Don’t worry,” I whispered to him, crouching low. “You won’t rot in some back alley. You’ll rot in a cell.”

I had planned for this. I had always planned for this. I pulled out the photos—the ones I’d taken weeks ago. Shots of him lingering too long outside Evelyn’s door. Shots of him entering her room late at night. And now, with his blood on the floor, his prints on the bottle of alcohol he had dropped, it would be easy to weave the story. A drunk, abusive uncle caught red-handed. A predator finally cornered.

And Evelyn… my Evelyn… would be free.

I turned back to her. She was so still, so pale in the dim light. Her lips parted slightly, trembling even in unconsciousness. Her lashes fanned over her cheeks, delicate as butterfly wings. She looked like a fallen angel, too pure for the filth of this world.

I brushed my thumb across her lower lip, careful not to wake her. Soft. God, she was soft. Every part of her called to me, begged to be claimed, but I held back. Not yet. She had to understand first. She had to break before she could belong to me fully.

Her curves rose and fell with each shallow breath, hidden beneath the loose fabric of her nightgown. To everyone else, she was cold, untouchable, the perfect student with sharp words and sharper eyes. But to me? She was fragile glass. I could see every crack, every secret weakness, every place she longed to be touched but feared to admit.

She fought the world with fire, but she never fought me. Not really.

Because deep down, she knows. She’s mine.

I lifted her gently from the chair, untying the ropes that bound her wrists. She sagged into me, her body fitting perfectly against mine, as though she was molded for this place—my arms. I carried her out of that cursed room, leaving her uncle bleeding and whimpering behind us. Tomorrow, the police would find him. And when they did, every detail would point to him as the monster everyone always suspected.

And me? I’d be the savior.

At the hospital, I told them she had fainted after discovering what her uncle had done. They believed me easily. People always believe me. The Blackwood name carries weight—my father owns half this city, and this hospital in particular. Nurses rushed her inside, laying her gently on the bed, hooking wires and drips into her fragile veins.

I stayed by her side. All night. Watching.

The doctors told me to leave, to rest, but I couldn’t. How could I? She looked so breakable under the fluorescent lights, her skin too pale, her body too small against the white sheets. Machines beeped steadily, measuring every fragile beat of her heart.

I reached out, brushing her hair back, letting my fingers linger against her temple. “You’ll wake up soon,” I murmured. “And when you do, you’ll see. I saved you, Evelyn. I’ve always saved you.”

Hours passed. Nurses came and went, checking her vitals, changing her drip. To them I was just the quiet boy in the corner, protective and still, refusing to leave the girl he loved. They didn’t see the storm inside me. They didn’t hear the thoughts that spiraled endlessly in my head—the thoughts of her lips on mine, her body arching beneath my touch, her voice breaking as she finally admitted she belonged to me.

By dawn, exhaustion clawed at me, but I refused to close my eyes. I had to be here when she woke. I had to be the first face she saw, the anchor that tethered her back to the world.

The world.

That ugly, twisted world that kept trying to steal her from me. Daniel with his soft hands and softer words. Teachers who praised her brilliance. Friends who teased her and thought they knew her.

They didn’t know her. Not like I did.

Daniel. His name alone made my jaw clench. He thought he could hold her hand, call her his girlfriend, kiss her like she wasn’t tainted. Like she wasn’t already mine. He thought love was flowers and smiles and late-night calls. Pathetic.

He could never survive the fire that made Evelyn who she was. He could never carry her scars.

But I could.

Morning light spilled through the blinds, painting her face in gold. For a moment, I let myself imagine it: her eyes opening, her lips curving into a smile meant only for me, her whisper soft and certain—Adrian, I choose you.

I would have waited forever for that moment.

But instead, the door slammed open.

I looked up, my body stiffening as Daniel rushed in, breathless and wide-eyed. His hair was a mess, his uniform half undone.

“I came as soon as I heard,” he gasped, his eyes flying to Evelyn’s still form on the bed. “The teacher—she told me everything. About her uncle—”

My lips curled into a smile I didn’t feel. “Did they?”

He barely heard me. He was already at her side, clutching her hand, whispering her name.

And I sat back, watching, my chest burning with rage and something darker.

Because he thought he was here to save her.

But she didn’t need saving anymore.

She had me.