Part 34

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As Daemon freshens up in the shower, I play absent-mindedly on my phone waiting for him. I'm calmed down now, my tears finally having stopped. I'm honestly still reeling from everything he told me. It explains so much. Why he was so touchy about mates. About Rose. Now that I know the reason behind why he snapped at me, it hurts so much less now.

And the fact that he trusted me enough to open up to me feels pretty great. That he sees me as valid, and respects and cares about my opinion of him. It makes me feel like we've passed a big milestone together.

I hum softly to myself, adjusting the screen brightness of my phone when a message pops up on my screen. My stomach drops. It's from Wren. His last text to me was a happy birthday wish, not a single one since that. Until now.


Wren: why were you at my house?

Shoot. How do I reply to that? Yes I was but I accidentally saw that you defamed a picture of me so I left. Which is what happened. But I just don't know how to respond properly. I already know that I'm not totally in the right, because I was kind of snooping in his room.

The door to the bathroom opens, revealing a dripping wet Daemon emerging from the steam, clad only in a white towel hung lowly on his hips. Rivulets of water stream down his toned chest. I gulp nervously, my heart speeding up. The text from Wren is forgotten.

"You still got my old clothes in here? Pretty sure if I tried to fit in those little tops you wear I'd rip them in half,"

The mental image of him trying to fit into my clothes has me giggling. I don't think he would even be able to get them on with how broad his shoulders are. "In the closet," I say.

I watch as he goes to the closet door, his back muscles flexing as he opens it. Oh god, I need to stop. But the horny part of me really wants to see what's under that towel. It's so unfair that he's seen mine but I haven't seen his.

"I don't see them," he says.

Jolting out of my impure thoughts, I go over and join him by the closet to look. We're close. And he's half-naked. I can feel the heat radiating off his body. I inhale nervously, my hands shaking as I bend over, pulling open the bottom drawer that they're in.

"Ash," he says lowly. I feel his hand on my leg.

Oh my god it's happening--

"What happened to your leg?"


I turn back to see him examining the cut on the back of my calf. It actually looks kind of nasty. I haven't paid it mind since that day with Lylah.

"I just scratched it on something. No big deal," I turn back to rifling through the drawer, trying to find a shirt big enough for him.

But I'm stopped when he suddenly grabs me, sweeping me up in his arms. "Daemon!" I yelp as he carries me bridal-style to the bed. What is his thing with randomly picking me up?!

"We're treating this. Right now," he says firmly, setting me down.

"You don't have to..." I trail off, not wanting to make him do something I should've done myself.

But he ignores me, getting the med-kit from the bathroom. He gently kneels on the ground before me, handling my leg with such caution I feel like a broken doll he's trying to repair.

"You have to put ointment on this. Not just clean it," he dabs a damp cotton swab over the cut, "Or else it'll scar,"

I raise an eyebrow at him, glancing at his own scar he still has on his arm from when he was injured before. He had been so stubborn back then, not wanting to accept my help at all. "That's rich coming from the guy who picked me up from school with half his arm bleeding! You didn't even want me to treat it,"

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