Damien
and every demon wants his pound of flesh
but i like to keep some things to myself
but i like to keep some things to myself
For a moment he only stared at her, the cub squirming lightly in his hands, claws snagging harmlessly against the worn leather of his gloves. Her plea hung in the cave like smoke—thin, desperate, impossible to ignore. His brow pulled down, not in anger, but in that slow, troubled way of a man weighing something heavier than words. He’d already said too much earlier, let slip the jagged thoughts he normally kept clamped down, and now she was looking at him like he held the whole weight of it in his hands: her guilt, his regret, this little thing with teeth that weren’t yet sharp enough to cut.
The corners of his mouth twitched, then pulled into something that wasn’t quite a smile but wasn’t grim either. “Kill it? Nah,” he said at last, voice rough as gravel but softer than the bite of the wind outside. He angled the cub up, closer to the firelight, so she could see its wide, blinking eyes and oversized paws. “Does that look like the face of a killer to you?”
Theea’s gaze stayed locked on him, brimming, and for the first time since dragging her bleeding into this cave he wanted her to see something else; some light in the darkness, even if it was only a sliver. So he shifted the cub forward, careful but deliberate, an offering between them. Its long tail brushed her blanket again, the faintest tickle. “I’m not going to kill it. Don’t know what the hell I’m going to do with it, but…” His voice trailed as he glanced down at the cub, who was already nosing against the warmth of his coat like a pup seeking milk. Young enough not to know the world was cruel, young enough to trust. Damien swallowed against a sudden tightness in his throat.
He eased down beside her, close enough that the heat of his shoulder bled through the space between them, but not close enough to cage her in. Protective, the way he always was, but careful too. He let the cub crawl into her lap if she wanted it, its weight slight but alive.
“I’ve seen enough blood for one day,” he tilted his head, dark eyes trying to catch hold of the stormlight in hers, and added more gently, “Haven’t you?”
The question wasn’t really a question. It was his way of telling her: no more. Not tonight.
The corners of his mouth twitched, then pulled into something that wasn’t quite a smile but wasn’t grim either. “Kill it? Nah,” he said at last, voice rough as gravel but softer than the bite of the wind outside. He angled the cub up, closer to the firelight, so she could see its wide, blinking eyes and oversized paws. “Does that look like the face of a killer to you?”
Theea’s gaze stayed locked on him, brimming, and for the first time since dragging her bleeding into this cave he wanted her to see something else; some light in the darkness, even if it was only a sliver. So he shifted the cub forward, careful but deliberate, an offering between them. Its long tail brushed her blanket again, the faintest tickle. “I’m not going to kill it. Don’t know what the hell I’m going to do with it, but…” His voice trailed as he glanced down at the cub, who was already nosing against the warmth of his coat like a pup seeking milk. Young enough not to know the world was cruel, young enough to trust. Damien swallowed against a sudden tightness in his throat.
He eased down beside her, close enough that the heat of his shoulder bled through the space between them, but not close enough to cage her in. Protective, the way he always was, but careful too. He let the cub crawl into her lap if she wanted it, its weight slight but alive.
“I’ve seen enough blood for one day,” he tilted his head, dark eyes trying to catch hold of the stormlight in hers, and added more gently, “Haven’t you?”
The question wasn’t really a question. It was his way of telling her: no more. Not tonight.
