Delicate

Chapter 63

Warning - The chapter does have mention of rape and sexual assault with a few explicit details that may be triggering. There are however no details on forced penetration.

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William's P.O.V

Sharing wasn't easy. Opening yourself up for someone to look at, to judge and pick apart, could never be easy.

It didn't matter that it'd been Damon I was bearing myself to, it was still just as painful as it'd always been.

I tried not to think about it. I didn't want to think about what he must've read from that book. There was so much in there, too much, and I didn't want to think about any of it. 

Liam. That night. The hospital. 

There was so much pain from this wound of mine I feared would never heal, not completely. It hurt just to remember, to contemplate and wonder, it just hurt.

It all hurt.

Opening my eyes, I look up at Damon who was still holding onto me even as he slept. His arms were locked around me and there was no escaping him. I sigh in relief as I sink into it, sink into him and all the safety that came with him.

I thought I would never be able to have this. A few months ago, I thought that I would never be able to touch another person again, least of all another man. 

After what had happened, it'd been a physical change rather than a conscious one and I accepted it for what it was.

All the doctors and specialists mother had taken me to called it Haphephobia, the ill reactions I had to contact with another person. The first time they'd described it, mother had been quick to declare that that was exactly what was impaling me, but the moment the doctor had stated that it was common amongst sexual assault victims, she immediately erased the word from her vocabulary. 

Mother chose to ignore the diagnosis and I did as well in my own way, not because I didn't accept it but because I didn't care to. There were many suggestions on ways to overcome it but I didn't care to hear any of them because, in truth, I didn't want to fix it.

It wasn't an ailment to me when I never wanted to touch another person again. I accepted it and learned to live with it rather than around it. It was a part of me and one that I didn't resent in the slightest.

But now there was Damon, and I loved Damon.

Loved him in ways I didn't think was possible to care for another person. Loved him in ways I'd promised myself I would never allow myself to again - I loved him with every part of me.

I run a gentle finger along the line that shaped his jaw, being sure to keep the touch light so that I didn't wake him. When he doesn't steer, I let myself silently enjoy the sparks that rippled between us from the contact, the ones that gave me that heady feeling of comfort and love that was only present with him.

Only with him. With Damon. My boyfriend, my mate, my lover, my protector... my Damon.

I didn't care if this was all because of a bond. I didn't care if this was all just an effect of it. I didn't care what it was, I was just grateful that I had it... that I had someone.

I'd needed someone for so long. Someone who would care enough to fight for me, to cry for me and hurt for me. I'd needed him and now that I finally had him, I could only be grateful that he was with me.

Damon leans into my touch, nosing his way against my finger until he's coaxed my hand to palm his cheek. Only then does he relax again, his breathing evening out as he swiftly falls back to sleep.