Page 15 of Aine

“Done!” he says, putting me directly under the stream of water.

I stare a hole into his chest as the suds fall from my body, refusing to look anywhere else in sheer embarrassment.

“Thanks,” I mumble.

I attempt to cover myself as he turns off the water and returns me to the bench. The quiet is deafening, and I can only imagine what he’s thinking right now. My skin pebbles as the cold air hits it, and I wait impatiently as Damien steps out of the shower space to grab and toss me a towel.

His back remains turned as he grabs another for himself and wraps it around his waist, ignoring the water that still coats his upper body and hair.

“Dry yourself off,” he orders, continuing to face away as he leaves the bathroom and heads into his bedroom.

Taking advantage of the privacy, I spread my thighs and dry off all my important bits before moving to my arms and legs. He returns just as I get the towel wrapped around my body, the man already dressed in a t-shirt and shorts as he holds some items for me to take.

“These are Olivia’s, so they might be a bit big on you.” He hands me a dress and underwear.

He uses his wet towel to wipe off the wheelchair, cleaning the dried pee from the seat and metal before tossing the cloth into the trash can. I try not to be too humiliated over the fact that he’s deemed it too dirty to even wash.

“I’ll be back in five minutes,” he says, leaving the room a second later.

I rush to throw the dress over my head, eager to be clothed by the time he returns. It’s a plain beige and awfully loose, but I don’t care. I’m just happy to have something to cover myself with.

The underwear is a bit of a struggle to get on, but I figure it out with only minor issue. I don’t love wearing another woman’s underwear, but I assume Damien doesn’t have anything new for me to use.

I relax when I’m clothed, happy to have been able to get myself sorted before Damien returns. My muscles burn in response to my rushed actions, but I don’t care. I’d rather be in pain than have him dress me himself.

Taking advantage of being alone, I turn and peer at all Damien’s belongings. There are few small personal items—shaving cream and a razor on the sink, a dirty sock behind the door, and a toothbrush next to me on the shower ledge—but otherwise, the space is empty of any signs that a person actually lives here.

Damien storms into the room just as I grab and inspect his toothbrush, the object falling to the floor as I jump at the sudden intrusion. He looks between me and the toothbrush, frowning at its position by my feet.

“I needed to throw it out anyway. It got covered in your pee water during the shower.”

His words make me frown, and I stare at the ground as I take in the truth of them.

“It’s time to go.” He sighs and steps into the shower to help me back into the wheelchair. “Try not to embarrass me.”

I recoil. Embarrass him? It’s not like I’m doing these things on purpose.

The walk to the village’s dining area is quiet. We don’t run into anybody and, thankfully, Damien remains silent the entire way. I listen to his breathing as he pushes me forward, noting how steady it is. He’s much better at pushing my chair than both Jenna and Olivia are, and it’s a welcome change.

I’m not being jostled around for once, and I relax into the seat despite my nerves.

It’s been almost two days now since I last ate anything, and my stomach has been aching terribly in desperation for sustenance. Jenna seemed to think Damien was going to feed me, but that turned out to be untrue.

“What’s your name?” Damien suddenly asks, his voice quiet among the trees.

I push down my annoyance at the fact he doesn’t already know. Soulmate, my ass.

“Aine,” I say.

Damien tests out my name for himself, the word falling quickly from his lips.

“You will call me ‘Damien’ when we’re in public,” he orders, stopping right before the small clearing in front of the dining hall entrance.

His sentence is confusing, and I pause for a moment to think it over. What else would he expect me to call him if not his name? I know some people prefer to be referred to by their title, but that’s usually more so in respect, not obligation.

“What do you want me to call you when we’re in private?” I ask.

He grunts, a deep sound that brings goosebumps to my skin.

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