Chapter 11

I woke up, but unlike every other time, I was not alone. Damien was beside me; my hands were around his torso and my other hand on his chest. Even at sleep, he looked tense; I couldn't tell if he was actually sleeping; he wasn't used to being touched, and yet he never pulled away, though he kept his hands to himself, remaining in that same position he layed in all through the night.

I watched his face, his black full eyebrow, his sharp jaw—everything about him screamed danger—but then, down to his lips, they weren't pink; they were red. Red as blood.

"What is your second obsession?" I had asked him.

"Blood," he answered.

This was the Blood Moon pack; of course it made sense. I remembered the way he had ripped that wolf to shred before eating me out right there, beside the dead body. That shouldn't turn me on; it was cruel, something only an animal would do, but maybe this part of me had always been there, and it did turn me on, remembering