Fragile To His Darkness

Chapter 9: The First Kiss

Elara had a fever.

It was midnight and her body was hot. She was shivering under three blankets, coughing badly.

Damon was sitting beside her bed, with a bowl of cold water and a towel, wiping her forehead himself. He had sent Maria away. He wanted to take care of her himself.

"So hot..." Elara whispered, her eyes closed.

"I know, little one. The medicine will work soon," Damon said, his voice so gentle, not like a mafia boss at all.

He kept wiping her face, her neck, her small hands. She was burning.

"Damon... am I going to die?" she asked suddenly, opening her eyes. They were full of tears and fever.

"No," he said firmly. "Not tonight. Not ever, if I can help it."

"But I feel so weak..."

"You are weak. But you are also the strongest person I know. You have lived 8 years like this. You can live one more night."

Elara looked at him. In the dim light, he looked so handsome, so worried for her. No one had ever been worried for her like this.

"Damon, will you... will you hold me? I am so cold."

He did not hesitate. He took off his shoes and got into the huge bed beside her, pulling her hot, shivering body against his chest. She was so small.

He held her tight, rubbing her back.

"Better?" he whispered.

"Yes... much better... you are so warm..."

She snuggled closer, her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. The fever made her brave.

"Damon... can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Have you... ever kissed a sick girl before?"

Damon smiled in the dark. "No. I have never kissed any girl like you."

"Like me? Fragile?"

"Like you. Pure. Brave. Beautiful even when you are burning with fever."

Elara was silent for a second, then she whispered, "I have never been kissed. Ever. No boy ever wanted to kiss the sick girl."

Damon's heart stopped. Never been kissed? His fragile treasure, 20 years old, never been kissed?

He looked down at her. Her lips were dry from fever but still pink, slightly open.

"Elara..." he whispered.

"Damon, will you... will you be my first kiss? Before I die? I want to know how it feels..."

She was looking at him, her eyes begging, feverish, innocent.

Damon could not say no. He would give her the world if she asked.

He leaned down slowly, giving her time to change her mind. But she did not. She closed her eyes.

And he kissed her. Softly, gently, like she was made of glass. Just a soft press of his lips on hers. It was not a mafia kiss. It was a first kiss, tender and slow.

Elara gasped. It was her first kiss. It felt like electricity, like warm sun, like medicine.

When he pulled away, her face was red, not from fever, but from blush.

"How was it?" Damon asked, his voice husky.

"It was... it was like... breathing for the first time," Elara whispered.

Damon groaned and kissed her again, a little deeper this time, but still so careful, like she would break.

Elara kissed him back, awkward, innocent, but with all her heart. She put her small hands on his chest.

For a long minute, there was no mafia, no sickness, no mansion. Just a boy and a girl and a first kiss at midnight while she had a fever.

When they stopped, Elara smiled and fell asleep in his arms, her fever finally breaking, her lips still tingling.

Damon stayed awake all night, holding her, touching his own lips, feeling like a teenager again. His first kiss with his fragile girl. He would never forget it.

And he thought, "I will never let another man kiss those lips. Ever."