Page 96 of Pretty When He Bleeds

Damonisstillstretchedout on my bed, looking wrecked in the best fucking way—his dark curls a mess, his lips swollen, his bare chest covered in faint red marks from my teeth. But his eyes… his eyes still hold a shadow that never quite leaves him.

I need to get him out of his own head before he spirals again. Before he starts convincing himself that he’s broken and that he doesn’t deserve this.

So when his eyes close, I slap his thigh and sit up. “Get dressed.”

Damon barely cracks an eye open. “What?”

I nudge his side. “You heard me. Get up, get dressed. We’re going out.”

His brow furrows. “I’m tired.”

I smack his ass hard enough to make him grunt. “I don’t give a fuck. Get up.”

Damon groans dramatically, throwing an arm over his face. “No.”

“Yeah,” I say, shoving him again. “Let’s go.”

“If this is some elaborate scheme to get me to work out at night, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

I roll my eyes and pull the blankets off him. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“Iamdramatic,” he says, stretching out with a lazy smirk. “And you love it.”

I ignore the way my stomach tightens at that, because—fuck, I do. But I’m not feeding his ego tonight. “Clothes, now,” I say, standing and tossing his jeans at him. “Or I’m dragging you out of here in your boxers.”

Damon grumbles but drags himself out of bed, pulling on his jeans and grabbing one of my hoodies—my hoodie, which should not make my chest feel as tight as it does.

“Where are we going?” he asks as he pulls on the hoodie.

“You’ll see.” I check my phone, making sure the texts I sent were received.

Killian: Got you. Key’s in my locker.

Luca: Lmk if you need anything else, lover boy??

Thorn: This is disgustingly sweet, Bishop. Proud of you??

I roll my eyes at Thorn’s comment and shove my phone in my pocket before I lead Damon downstairs. The guys are in the living room, but I ignore them, making a beeline for the garage.

Damon stops dead when I press the key fob and the lights of my truck flash. “Since when do you own a truck?”

I smirk. “Since always. I just don’t like to drive.”

He narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Then why are you using it now?”

I shrug. “Felt like it.”

Damon huffs but doesn’t argue as he climbs in. Once we’re on the road, he turns to me. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

“That’s the point of a surprise, Trouble.” His eyes flicker at the nickname, and I don’t miss the way he shifts slightly, like he’s feeling that word more than he wants to admit.

I don’t say anything, just smirk as I turn onto the highway. The first stop is a tiny coffee shop downtown, one that’s open late and has the best hot chocolate. Damon wrinkles his nose when I tell him that’s what he’s getting.

“I’m not a child.”

I slide the cup across the table to him. “Just try it, asshole.”

He sighs like this is a huge burden, but when he takes a sip, his eyebrows shoot up.

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