The Ruin and The Rising
1333 Words
His mouth was on my neck before I could breathe.
Not gentle. Not asking. Damon kissed the spot where my pulse hammered like he wanted to taste the fear underneath. But I wasn't afraid. I was starving.
"You feel that?" he murmured against my skin.
"Feel what?"
"My control. Slipping."
I wrapped my legs around his waist. "Then stop holding it."
He pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes were nearly black. His chest heaved. The scars on his torso caught the firelight like silver rivers.
"You don't know what you're asking for."
"I died in a cell, Damon. I think I can handle a night with you."
He laughed. Low. Broken. "That's not what I'm worried about."
"Then what?"
His hand slid up my ribcage. Stopped just below my breast.
"I'm worried you'll stay."
I didn't have an answer for that.
So I kissed him instead.
His hands learned me like a map.
Every scar. Every curve. Every place where the old Sera had been soft and the new Sera had gone hard.
"You're trembling," he said.
"You're heavy."
He shifted his weight. Propped himself on his elbows. Gave me room to breathe but not enough to think.
"Better?"
"No." I pulled him back down. "Don't be gentle with me."
"I wasn't planning on it."
His mouth found mine again. Hungrier this time. His hand slid between my thighs. I gasped against his lips.
"Shh," he whispered. "We're just getting started."
He touched me like he had all night. Slow at first. Then faster. Then slow again until I was clutching his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.
"Say my name," he said.
"Damon."
"Again."
I couldn't. He was making it impossible to speak. His thumb circled and pressed and I forgot every word I'd ever known.
"That's it," he murmured. "Let go."
I did.
And he caught every piece of me.
Afterward, he didn't move.
His weight pinned me to the mattress. His face buried in my hair. His breath hot and uneven against my neck.
"You okay?" he asked.
I laughed. It came out raw. "I don't think I remember what okay feels like."
He rolled onto his back and pulled me with him. My head on his chest. His arm around my waist.
"We should sleep," he said.
"We should talk."
"About what?"
"About what happens tomorrow."
His hand traced lazy circles on my back. "Tomorrow, we wake up. We eat breakfast. I show you off to my pack like the trophy you are."
"I'm not a trophy."
"No." He tilted my chin up. "You're a weapon. And I'm going to point you at everyone who ever hurt you."
I studied his face. The hard line of his jaw. The way his eyes softened just slightly when they looked at me.
"Why are you helping me?" I asked.
"Because you asked."
"That's not a real reason."
He was quiet for a long moment. His thumb brushed my lower lip.
"When you walked away from Liam," he said, "you didn't look scared. You looked furious. I've been surrounded by scared wolves my whole life. I forgot what fury looked like."
"And now?"
"Now I want to see what you do with it."
I sat up. The sheet fell around my waist. His eyes followed.
"What I'm going to do," I said, "is destroy everyone who put me in that cell. Liam. Selene. My father. Anyone who stood by and watched."
"Your father's dead."
"He's not." I let him see the weight of that truth. "He's been hiding for fifteen years. But he's alive. And he's the reason my mother disappeared."
Damon sat up. His hand found my knee.
"Start at the beginning."
"I can't. I don't know the beginning. I only know the end." I looked at him. "I know that when I died, I heard his voice. Silas. My father. He said, 'The bloodline ends with her.'"
"Bloodline?"
"I have something he wants. Something in my blood. A power that wakes up when I die."
Damon's jaw tightened. "You're not going to die again."
"You can't promise that."
"Watch me."
He kissed me. Hard. Brief. A promise and a threat all at once.
"Tomorrow," he said, "we start hunting. Tonight, you sleep."
"I'm not tired."
"You will be." He pulled me back down. Wrapped himself around me like a cage. "I'm not done with you yet."
He wasn't lying.
Hours later, my body was sore and my mind was blank and I couldn't remember my own name. Damon lay beside me, one arm thrown over his eyes, chest still heaving.
"You're trying to kill me," I whispered.
"You're still talking. That means I'm not trying hard enough."
I laughed. It hurt. Everything hurt. In the best possible way.
"I need water."
"Then get water."
"You're in my way."
He moved. Fast. Pinned me beneath him again.
"You're not going anywhere."
"Damon—"
"Rule four." His lips brushed my ear. "When you're in my bed, you stay in my bed."
"You're making up rules now?"
"I'm the Alpha King. I can do whatever I want."
I pushed at his chest. He didn't move.
"Water," I said.
"Fine." He rolled off. Grabbed a cup from the nightstand. Handed it to me. "Drink. Then we sleep."
I drank. The water was cold and clean and tasted like nothing. Everything in this place was sharp and dark and heavy. But the water was just water.
"You're thinking too loud," he said.
"I'm thinking about what comes next."
"Don't."
"I have to."
He took the cup from my hands. Set it aside. Pulled me against his chest.
"Tomorrow, you can think. Tonight, you let me hold you." His voice dropped. "You haven't been held in a long time, have you?"
I shook my head.
"Then let me."
I closed my eyes. His arms were warm. His heartbeat was steady. For the first time in two lives, I didn't feel cold.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"Don't thank me yet. The hard part starts tomorrow."
"I know."
"Good." He kissed the top of my head. "Now sleep, little wolf. You're going to need your strength."
I dreamed of the cell.
The same bricks. The same bars. The same cold that crept into my bones like a promise.
But this time, I wasn't alone.
Damon stood in the corner. His eyes glowed gold in the dark.
"You don't belong here," I said.
"Neither do you."
"I died here."
"And now you're going to live." He walked toward me. The chains on my wrists fell away. "Wake up, Sera."
"I can't."
"Wake. Up."
I opened my eyes.
Sunlight poured through the window. Damon was already dressed. Black shirt. Dark jeans. A knife strapped to his thigh.
"How long was I asleep?" I asked.
"Six hours. You were talking in your sleep."
I sat up. The sheet fell. I didn't bother covering myself.
"What did I say?"
"You said, 'The bloodline ends with me.' And then you said my name." He walked to the bed. Sat on the edge. "You were crying."
"I don't cry."
"You did last night."
I looked away. His hand caught my chin. Turned me back.
"Whatever happened in that cell," he said, "whatever they did to you—you're not there anymore. You're here. With me."
"For now."
"For always." He kissed my forehead. "Get dressed. There's someone I want you to meet."
"Who?"
"My mother."
I froze. "I thought she was dead."
"She is." He stood. Walked to the door. "But she left something behind. Something that might help you find your father."
He opened the door. Paused.
"And Sera?"
"Yeah?"
"Whatever you see in there—don't touch anything."
"Why not?"
His smile was sharp. "Because the last person who did lost his hand."
He walked out.
I sat in bed for a long moment. The sheets smelled like him. My body ached in places I'd forgotten I had.
Don't touch anything.
I laughed.
Then I got dressed.
- Writer
