Chapter 10 Where the Silence Speaks

I was standing in the doorway of Damian's bedroom, trying to convince myself this was not crazy.

But it was.

Sharing a room with the most powerful, dangerous man I'd ever known?

Insane.

And yet, here I was.

Damian didn't even say a word as he crossed the room, yanked a drawer open, pulled out a folded t-shirt, and flung it on the bed without glancing at me.

"You can sleep here. I'll take the couch."

I blinked. "You? Sleep on a couch?"

He finally glanced, one brow raised. "Believe me, I've done worse."

I remained glued to my spot by the door, heart racing. "You don't have to do that. I'll be fine on the couch"

"Elena."

My name stopped me. The way he said itfirm, low, commanding.

"You're not fine," he said, moving closer to me. "He has left, and you have been shaking since. You haven't eaten. You made a flinch when I touched you."

I swallowed, my throat tight. "So what? You want to fix me?"

He descended on me, his presence suffocating and magnetic all at once, stopping just before crushing me an inch and a half away from my chest. "No," he said softly. "I want to protect you. That's not the same thing."

My chest ached.

Why did those words hit me the way they did?

I looked away, blinking fast. "This is too much."

Damian lifted his arm, pushing a piece of hair from my face, his knuckles brushing against my skin. "You think I don't fucking know that?"

He dropped his hand, and for a moment we stood there, the unsaid weight of everything between us.

"You don't always have to be strong, Elena," he said softly. "Not with me."

A lump formed in my throat.

Because nobody had ever told me that before.

Not once.

Damian stepped back to give me space and turned to the closet. "Get changed. I'll be outside."

And just like that, he was no more.

I was standing in his bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror.

I looked like a person I hardly recognized wide eyes, flushed cheeks, dark circles under my eyes, thanks to too many sleepless nights.

I slipped into the oversized tee-shirt he'd given me. It smelled like him, dark, warm, and expensive. Soothing in an unexpected way.

When I finally walked out, Damian was perched on the edge of the couch, scrolling through his phone.

He looked up as he heard me. His eyes passed over me in one sweep and settled on my face.

"You okay?"

I nodded, although it was a lie. "Yeah."

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

He set his phone down. "Try to sleep. I'll be here."

I hesitated. "You're really not going to sleep in the bed?"

He gave a short smile. "If I were, you'd be too uptight to sleep. You don't think I've seen how your brain works?"

I looked away, embarrassed.

But also... grateful.

Damian saw too much. And for once, I didn't want to pretend.

"Thank you," I whispered.

He didn't say anything. Just nodded once.

I rotated my body and ducked into the bed, sinking into the soft sheets.

It was warm. Safe.

And for the first time in days...

It was like I was finally able to close my eyes.

I had no idea how long I had been asleep when the nightmare seized.

Everything was dark. Hands. Voices. Nathan's laughter ringing in my ears. I was running, screaming, choking.

Then I was awake.

Gasping. Sweating.

And Damian was there.

Kneeling by the side of the bed, his hands cradling my arms.

"Elena. It's okay. You're safe. He's not here."

I blinked, disoriented. "It felt so real..."

"I know."

He lifted his hand and wiped away a tear from my cheek. "He's not going to hurt you anymore. I promise."

And the way he said it so low, so fierce I believed him.

Yet what terrified me the most wasn't the dream.

It was how desperately I wanted to remain right here.

In his arms.

With him.

I didn't fall asleep again.

Not after the nightmare. Not after opening my eyes to Damian halfway on his knees in front of me, as though he were the only thing anchoring me to reality.

Now, I was lying still under the sheets, looking at the ceiling as the distant lights from the city flickered on its dark walls.

I could feel him.

Although he had returned to the couch, I felt his presence. The silence that stretched between us wasn't awkward anymore. It was something else. Something... unspoken.

I sat up slowly.

"Damian?"

He responded instantly. "Yeah?"

I hesitated. "Are you awake?"

"Wasn't sleeping."

His voice was quiet and low and tired, but clear.

I wrapped the blanket around me and got up, padding slowly to the living room. It was a big, deep voice careful not to irk, it sounded like, certainly on an empty street with cars parked on both sides, glimmering silver under the streetlight glare and he was sitting with his elbows on his knees, shirt rumpled, the light that the streetlight cast from the car shadowing him across his facial features.

When I stepped toward him, he looked up and locked his eyes on mine.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't."

I sat next to him but kept an inch of space between us, though every inch of me was cognizant of how close we were.

He didn't speak. He would just sit there, watching me, waiting.

After a long beat, I said, "Do you ever get nightmares?"

Damian averted his eyes, staring at the city skyline.

"Every night," he said.

I didn't expect him to respond, a fortiori with something so honest.

"What do you do when they arrive?" I whispered.

"I don't sleep."

My lips tugged with a sad smile. "Guess that explains a lot."

He looked at me again, and this time, there was something gentler in his face. "You don't need to be going through this alone, Elena."

I swallowed hard. "You make it sound easy."

"It's not. But I'm still here."

I felt those words hit something inside me. Not because they were reassuring - but because they seemed to be true.

And that truth terrified me.

"Damian," I asked carefully, "why are you doing this?"

His brow lifted slightly. "Protecting you?"

"No. Keeping me here. Watching over me like I'm... yours."

He didn't answer right away.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low. Controlled.

"Because I want you safe. Because I don't want him near you." And because..." He stopped, his eyes fixed on mine. "Because I'm not ready to lose you."

The words hit me like a wave.

I should have been scared. I should have told him this was moving too quickly, that it was too intense, too dangerous.

But I didn't.

Because, deep down, I didn't want to let him go, either.

I was all turned to him, my heart racing. "What is this between us, I don't know what it is."

"So do I not," he said in a low voice. "But I know I'd set fire to the world to keep you from his hands."

His words were terrifying.

And they were the only thing that made me feel safe.

I leaned in without thinking. My hand brushed his.

And for once he didn't pull back.