Secrets of the Gods

Chapter Twelve

Warning: Unedited.

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"Miserable mortals who, like leaves, at one moment flame with life, eating the produce of the land, and at another moment weakly perish."

                                                                                                           - Homer, The Iliad

"Calm down, Love. I'm okay," Damien says tiredly as I pace the length of the living room with fret. I'd wrapped his arm, but it's still bleeding.

I knew I shouldn't have gone to get him. If I'd just listened to myself, then I wouldn't be in this mess. Where he goes, trouble follows. I knew it. I know it still. But, there has always been a soft spot for him. Even if I don't care to admit it. Even if I pretend it's hate coursing through my body every time I catch him staring. I hate him, but I don't really.

I twist the ends of my hair around my index finger. "Let me take you to the hospital, please."

He shakes his head hard to one side. "No, I don't do hospitals, would you just trust me."

"Yes, I'm going to trust the boy bleeding all over my house," I say as I kneel beside him. I can feel the beads of sweat trickling along my brow, and worry marks my face. "Let me take a look."

Moving his arm up, I can see the open wound. It's not small, and I'm almost certain he needs stitches. "Damien."

He brings his hand to my cheek, cupping it. I look up and his thumb runs over my lip as it begins to shake. "Don't be scared, I'm not going anywhere."

"How can I help? Just tell me," my voice is barely audible and I can barely hear it myself. Fear began to make its way through my mind, leaving thoughts, leaving terror. Thunder booms outside, my head snaps towards the window and I take a deep breath.

Damien is still soaked, and bleeding. I tug at his hand. "Come on, you can't stay like this."

"Worried much?" His joking tone brings the smallest of smiles to my face. Motioning for him to follow me up the stairs, I stop at the closet and pull out a couple towels.

I point to my room. "The bathroom is attached. I'm going to see if I can find you some clothes."

Nodding, his broad shoulders and toned body disappear into the room. As soon as he's out of sight I steady myself against the wall.

Just take a deep breath, you're fine, I think. It doesn't take long to find him a pair for my father's sweats and a t-shirt. I grabbed what looked like it would fit and hurried into my bedroom. When I get there, Damien is sitting on the edge of my bathtub- shirtless. His blood is trailing down his arm, and he hasn't noticed me just yet.

His hair is beginning to curl again, and he curls his hand in a fist- wincing.

I clear my throat and rest the clothes on the sink. "We should try and clean that up. What happened?"

It's weird, having him in my room again, he hasn't been here since we were children. And, I never really thought that he would set foot in this house again. If mother knew, I think, she'd have my throat.

"Honestly?" He looks up and stares, as if staring into my soul. I nod. "I don't know," he whispers. I know he's lying. I want so badly to be angry, to yell, to make him tell me the truth, but something deep within told me that I don't really want to know.

So, instead, I move towards the sink, pick up a wet cloth, and sit down next to him. I dab the towel against his skin, softly, as to not hurt him more. His strong jaw is clenched, but his eyes are burning holes in my head. His stare is like fire, and it's as if I can feel him in my mind. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine, Darling." Damien places his hand over mine, I stop. "Adaline."

"Yes," I whisper. Electricity runs through my whole body, and my throat seems to close. Remember why you hate him, the voice in my head thinks, do not do this.

His eyes scan my face, and his hand travels up my arm, sending waves of warmth through every place his tender touch grazes. I freeze, dropping the bloody towel to the ground. Just as our gazes meet, and I can feel the tension building in the air, there's a loud bang.

Damien shoots up, the muscles along his body ripple with movement. I look up at his face, a face filled with fear. He curses. "They followed me. Adaline, give me your hand."

I don't think. I simply do. He presses it against his wound and I can feel warm liquid against my fingertips, I can feel the torn muscle. I cringe. "What are you doing?"

My voice is loud. I can hear footsteps. He shakes his head, then he kneels down. "I didn't want to have to do this, Adaline. I'm so sorry, but I need you to focus. I need you to feel the power within you. If you don't, we might not get out of this alive."

His hand is against my chest, and I don't know whether to laugh, or to think he's crazy. "Power? I don't have power."

He smirks. "Adaline, focus. Think of my muscles stitching itself back. Think of the warmth. Think of your feelings for me," he says. His voice is becoming more desperate. I close my eyes.

I think of each wound slowly stitching itself back together.

I can hear voices.

I think of the fear I'd felt when I saw him hurt.

The footsteps are on the stairs.

I can feel something spark within my body.

They're at the door.

My hand begins to tingle, and I can feel the wound disappear.

They're here.

~

Hey people,

so I hope I'm still piquing your interest... going back to Canada soon and so I'll have to stick to an updating schedule as I'm starting first year uni.

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ALSOOOOOOO please check out the new story I'm writing called Falling for the Hawthorne Brothers

- Maria