Chapter 16
Florence | Edinburgh, present day
Holy shit. I gaze at the J rose tattoo and don’t say anything.
Damian’s breathing is erratic, and he looks at me wide-eyed, like he’s about to lose it.
OK, this is a bad wound, something that he keeps tightly locked away and why I haven’t picked up on it from his thoughts.
But it seems he’s also suffering from PTSD.
I’ve been through two world wars, so I know a bit about the effects of shell shock.
I rub his forearm to let him know I’m not going anywhere. That he’s in a safe space. ‘Hey, what happened? You can tell me,’ I say in a low soothing voice.
Damian stares at me, his cheeks red and his forehead sweaty. ‘You want to hear about Juliana?’ He sounds amazed, like he’s expecting me to kick him out of bed.
I nod. ‘She’s part of your history—of course I want to hear about her.’ And I’m not squeamish about death since I’ve been a vampire for over a century ...
The look of utter relief on Damian’s face is enough to melt my long dormant heart. Oh, the poor wee mite! I rearrange the white goose-feather bed pillows, plumping them up behind his head so he’s comfortable. I take his hand in mine and wait for him to begin.
‘It ... it was a car accident,’ he says shakily, and I squeeze his fingers.
‘Go on.’
He closes his eyes, and the words flow out of him in a fast moving stream, as if he wants to get it over with.
‘Three of us ... camping trip ... My friend Jake, he’d been drinking .
.. driving too fast ... clipped an oncoming car .
.. It rolled ... Juliana in front ... n-not wearing a seat belt .
.. Ambulance took ages ... We were in the middle of nowhere .
.. She lost too much b-blood ... They said her death was p-preventable if we’d been nearer a town . ..’
‘I’m so sorry,’ I murmur. ‘Did anyone else ...? Your friend?’
‘Jake was fine apart from some cuts and bruises,’ replies Damian flatly, and I get the sense he and Jake aren’t friends anymore. I take a quick peek into his thoughts. Yep, he’s never forgiven Jake and hopes he burns in hell. Whoa.
‘I could have saved her, but I didn’t know how,’ Damian continues.
‘I was in dental school, studying teeth, not human anatomy. I could do basic CPR, but I was clueless about serious injuries. If I’d been studying medicine, I could have done something .
.. tried something ...’ He clenches his fists lying on top of the bedcover, and his knuckles turn white.
‘It wasn’t your fault, Damian,’ I say gently.
‘Afterwards, I tried to retrain as a doctor. But I kept failing—it was the grief, I suppose,’ he goes on as if I haven’t spoken.
‘I couldn’t handle the stress, and I balked when we had to dissect corpses.
Every time, I’d get stuck. It felt like I was reliving her death all over again.
I failed one time too many, and they kicked me out.
So I went back to dentistry and finished my course.
But I vowed to learn everything I could in case it happened again, to anyone.
If I’d had more knowledge, I could have kept her stable before the ambulance arrived.
I’ve done so much medical research since it happened that I could probably perform basic surgery on the roadside. ’ He gives a short bitter laugh.
Now I know why he was so anxious about Bitsy biting me. But compared to some of the other more dramatic ways I could go, death by Bichon Frisé would be a tad embarrassing ...
‘And how has it affected your personal life? If you don’t mind me asking. Have you had a girlfriend since?’ I attempt to sound neutral like I’m a therapist, but I’m keen to hear the answer.
He shrugs. ‘No. I’ve dated a bit here and there, but I guess I haven’t wanted to get close to anyone ... in case they ... you know ... like Juliana.’
I nod. ‘Understandable. But you can’t think like that. Otherwise, you’ll wake up one day and realise you’ve wasted the best years of your life. You’re hot and a nice person. You deserve to be happy.’
I’m not just giving him compliments because I want him to be happy with me. He really doesn’t deserve the emotional and mental anguish he’s torturing himself with. If anyone should be feeling guilty about their past misdeeds, it should be me, not him.
Damian inclines his head slightly. ‘You think I’m hot?’
I smile to myself. Of course he’s focused on that part of my pep talk! ‘Smoking.’ I lean in to give him a light peck on the cheek, but he turns his head and presses his lips hard against mine. We kiss for a brief moment, and it’s lovely.
But then he pulls away, shaking like a leaf, burying his face in his hands. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers. ‘I just get these stupid panic attacks.’
I put my arm around his shoulders and hold him close to me, then get a bit worried that he won’t feel me breathing and wonder why.
Especially if he’s done a lot of medical research.
I drop my arm and inch away from his body slightly but don’t want him to feel like I’m rejecting him. ‘Would a cup of tea help perhaps?’
He nods and takes a shaky breath. ‘Yeah, that would be great. Thanks. And thanks for listening.’
‘Not a problem. How do you take it?’
‘White with one sugar.’ Damian smiles weakly and burrows down into the soft pillows—not before I catch a glimpse of his red watery eyes, though.
Yikes. Hopefully, it did help him to talk about his girlfriend. I’m not usually sought out by either of my flatmates for deep and meaningful conversations, so hopefully, I did OK.
Carefully, I tuck the covers around him and retreat from my lair.
Discombobulated, I head upstairs, surprised that I’m feeling protective and maternal towards Damian right now.
I still want to fuck him and suck his blood, but alongside that is a strong urge to comfort and take care of him—it’s a new feeling for me.
***
Sadie is boiling the kettle when I reach the kitchen. Good timing!
‘Hello, witch,’ she says, sensing me in the doorway.
‘Don’t call me that,’ I say automatically, watching as she pours hot water into a tartan mug.
Luckily, we have tea and coffee for Elliott, or it would be hot water or blood on offer for Damian.
Not for the first time I realise how weird this set-up is: three female vampires living together and one of them involved with a thrall who keeps us supplied in blood bags.
I sigh and perch on a bar stool, waiting for Sadie to finish. She draws a sharp knife lightly across her wrist, and blood drips into the coffee as she stirs it. Ah, OK, he must need ‘revitalising’.
‘Is Elliott upstairs?’
‘No, in the lounge. We got a bit carried away ... on the couch. I’ll clean it.’
I screw up my nose. ‘Hester and I sit on that couch. Couldn’t you have gone up to your room?’
‘Well, when the mood takes you. But now I know why it did.’ She rubs at the cut on her wrist distractedly, which has all but disappeared, then folds her arms, eyeing my nightgown. ‘He’s downstairs, isn’t he? That horny dentist of yours. I thought I could sense arousal. It set me off.’
‘Perhaps he was horny when we arrived, but he’s not now. He’s upset. His girlfriend died. Two years ago. He opened up to me about it. I’m making him a cup of tea. To comfort him.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Sadie’s lip curls, showing a glimpse of fang, and she turns and reaches for a packet of Bourbon Creams from the cupboard. Biscuits as well! They must have had a good session for Elliott to be needing the works. She’s comforting him just as much as I am Damian. She’s such a hypocrite.
‘Have we still got that hot-water bottle of Elliott’s?’
Sadie gestures at the drawer below my knee with her chin. ‘I think it’s in there.’
I open the drawer and find the hot-water bottle with its pink knitted cover under a pile of old Vogue magazines.
Sadie clicks her tongue. ‘So you’ve got a half-naked dentist in your bed who hasn’t realised exactly what you are yet. And you’re worried that once he does, he’s going to freak out despite you playing psychoanalyst and being all comforting—as if that’s going to make a difference.’
‘Thanks, Miss Mind Reader. But I really don’t need your opinion about it,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘And his name is Damian.’
‘Floss, I’m just reminding you that fraternising with humans never ends well. You know you need to break it off,’ she says, her voice softening.
‘Damian’s different,’ I say stubbornly, filling the hot-water bottle. ‘Besides, you’ve got Elliott. You don’t understand what it’s like.’
Sadie walks over to the door with the mug of revitalising coffee in one hand and the packet of Bourbon Creams in the other.
‘Floss,’ she says, sounding impatient. I shake my head and put my hands over my ears, but her voice penetrates my mind anyway, and I can’t stop it.
I do understand what it’s like. I’m 130 years older than you, and I was alone for most of those before we met. I know it’s difficult. But the longer you leave it, the harder it’s going to be. You know I’m right—
I interrupt her. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask Alexander to turn me! I clutch the hot-water bottle to my chest. But I’m impervious to heat, so it doesn’t comfort me.
I know you didn’t. But you need to grow up. Dragging a human into our world is irresponsible when you know what Alexander could do to him ...
Sadie gives me a grave look and exits to tend to her weak thrall, leaving me slumped against the kitchen counter, hurt and angry at her lack of compassion for my situation. Sanctimonious bitch, I think.
I heard that, Floss. Go and see to your dentist. And don’t be mad at me. I’m just keeping it real. We can discuss it more later if you need to.
Oops, I forgot she was only in the lounge.
I head downstairs to get out of her range, slightly mollified, but still justifiably upset.
Sadie’s got a point, but she’s not always right.
Yes, it’s risky to get involved with a human, but I trust that Hester’s got my back when it comes to shielding me.
She hasn’t let me down so far. And Damian may freak out a little when he finds out I’m a vampire.
But if I stick to my plan and approach the subject carefully and break it to him gently, he might not run away screaming.
Since he’s into medical stuff, he might be interested and intrigued rather than scared.
And I’ll explain there’s one big advantage of me being his girlfriend: he will never ever have to worry about me dying.
That’s something that should be very comforting to him.