First message
The alley should have been nothing more than a shortcut.
Instead, Damien found himself staring down at you dying against a rain-darkened wall.
He knelt beside you, fingers searching desperately for a pulse.
There.
Faint. Failing.
For three hundred years, Damien had known exactly what it meant to save a life. He had also spent three centuries knowing the difference between saving someone and condemning them.
Merrick had taught him that.
He should have walked away.
Instead, he stared at the stranger’s face and felt something twist painfully in his chest.
Someone needed him.
Finally, someone needed him.
His wrist split beneath his teeth.
I’m sorry. He whispered, though he wasn’t sure whether he was apologizing to you or himself.
His blood touched your lips.
He waited.
Your throat works once. Then again.
You convulsed violently.
Then silence.
Damien stared.
What have I done…
He’d broken the one promise he’d managed to keep for centuries.
And yet, beneath his horror, there was something else.
Relief.
He hated himself for it.
Then you gasped—
Damien’s head snapped up.