Page 78 of Pretty When He Bleeds

He’s still trembling, but his movements slow and the tension in his jaw starts to ease under my hands. His lashes flutter. A sound catches in his throat—something wrecked, but real and present.

“There you are,” I whisper, relief crashing into me so hard my own eyes sting. “There you are, Damon. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes open, unfocused at first, wide and glassy. He looks at me like he doesn’t recognize me. Like he’s still halfway stuck in the dark.

“Roman?” he croaks, his voice hoarse and broken.

“Yeah, it’s me,” I say, breathing out a massive breath. “You’re okay. It was just a dream.”

His eyes dart around the room before settling back on me, and I can see the fear still lingering there. “I’m here,” I say again, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead. “You’re safe.”

He swallows hard, his hands reaching up to grip my wrists like he needs to anchor himself. “Fuck,” he whispers, his voice shaky.

“You scared the shit out of me,” I admit, my heart still racing as I climb off him and sit on the edge of the bed. “What the hell was that?”

He doesn’t answer right away, sitting up slowly and dragging a hand over his face. “I… I don’t know,” he mutters, his voice barely audible. My boy looks wrecked, his face pale and drawn, his shoulders hunched like he’s trying to make himself smaller.

“Damon,” I say, my voice softer now. “Talk to me.”

He shakes his head, his hands trembling as he clasps them together. “It’s nothing,” he says, but the crack in his voice betrays him.

“Don’t give me that,” I say, shifting to face him. “You were fucking terrified. I’ve never seen you like that before.”

He doesn’t look at me, his gaze fixed on the floor. “It’s just… shit from before,” he says finally, his voice tight.

“Before what?” I press, but he shakes his head again, his jaw clenching.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he mutters, and I can hear the edge in his voice, the way he’s trying to shut me out.

But I don’t let him.

I reach out, grabbing his hand and lacing my fingers through his. He flinches slightly at the contact but doesn’t pull away.

“Hey,” I say, squeezing his hand gently. “You don’t have to tell me everything. But you don’t have to deal with it alone either.”

He glances at me then, his green eyes shadowed and guarded. “I don’t know how to…” He trails off, his voice breaking again, and I feel like my heart’s being squeezed in a vice.

“You don’t have to,” I say firmly. “Not all at once. But I’m here, okay? Whenever you want to talk, I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

For a moment, he just stares at me, his expression unreadable. Then he nods, his grip on my hand tightening as he lets out a shaky breath. “Thank you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Always, babe,” I say, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his temple.

The shower’s already running when I step into the bathroom, the room thick with steam. Damon’s standing under the spray, head tilted back, water cascading down his body, and for a moment, I just stop and stare.

The guy is unreal, all sharp lines and hard muscle, tattoos covering so much of his skin that it’s impossible not to let my eyes wander. There’s that black widow on his pelvis that I love to lick, and the ink that trails up his arms, disappearing into the mess of curls clinging to his neck.

“Gonna stand there all day?” Damon drawls, not even looking at me, but I catch the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Maybe,” I shoot back, pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it onto the sink. “You’re a hell of a view, Trouble.”

That gets his attention. He turns to face me, his green eyes locking onto mine, and fuck, the look on his face makes my stomach do a weird little flip.

“Get in here,” he says, his voice rough.

I don’t need to be told twice. I shuck off the rest of my clothes and step into the shower; the second I do, Damon’s hands are on me. He grabs me by the waist, pulling me under the spray with him, and the warmth of the water is nothing compared to the heat of his body against mine.

“Missed you,” he mutters, his lips brushing against my ear.

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