Chapter 41: The Morning Lie
398 Words
Chapter 41: The Morning Lie
(The silence screams louder than love)
The sheets still smelled like him.
Heat. Leather. Lust.
Aria lay tangled in Damon’s arms, his chest rising slow and steady beneath her cheek. But peace? It was an illusion—one she couldn’t afford to believe in anymore.
She stared at the ceiling, naked and exposed in more ways than one. His fingers were still laced in her hair, his breath ghosting over her ear. Possessive, even in sleep.
Last night had been a mistake.
A beautiful, addicting, soul-wrecking mistake.
She slowly shifted, trying not to wake him. But his grip tightened instantly, instinctively.
“Don’t,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep and something darker. “Don’t run from me.”
“I wasn’t,” she lied.
He opened his eyes.
God. Those eyes.
Storm and smoke. Lust and danger.
And something almost… scared.
“I meant every word,” he said, cupping her cheek with a hand that had both destroyed her and saved her. “You’re mine, Aria.”
She swallowed hard. “Even if my heart isn’t?”
His jaw tightened, but his eyes didn’t waver. “Then I’ll take it. Break it. Fix it. Whatever the hell it takes.”
Her breath caught.
Because Cade had said something terrifyingly similar… once.
The two men who haunted her dreams were starting to blur—and that blur was turning into a line she couldn’t unsee.
“I can’t keep doing this,” she whispered.
Damon sat up slowly, muscles coiled, body still naked and perfect. But the look on his face? Ruinous.
“You think I’ll let you go now?” His voice was quiet. Dangerous. “After last night?”
“It was a mistake,” she said too fast.
His hand slammed against the headboard beside her, making her flinch.
“No,” he growled. “It was real. You don’t scream like that for a man you don’t want.”
She stared at him, eyes filling with tears. “Wanting isn’t enough anymore.”
He leaned in close, so close their foreheads touched.
“Then let me give you everything,” he said. “Even if it destroys me.”
She closed her eyes, heart breaking open inside her chest.
Because Damon wasn’t just her addiction anymore.
He was her war.
And she didn’t know if she’d survive it.
- Writer
