Chapter 29: Bella's POV
Bella's POV
I'm awake, and the first thing I notice is Damon. His arm wrapped around my waist, holding me close, and his warmth enveloping me like a protective shield. It's both comforting and unnerving at the same time. I've never been this close to him before, and the realization sends a jolt of anxiety through me.
"Damon, where am I?" I ask, my voice betraying my confusion.
"Here," he replies with a hint of amusement, "In my bed."
"Why?" I press, needing answers.
"Because I like you here," he answers simply, his tone teasing.
I sigh, turning to face him, struggling against the weight of my injuries. Damon's eyes meet mine, a mix of concern and relief flickering in their depths.
"Bella," he groans softly, his breath tickling my neck, "Stop squirming."
I freeze, his proximity suddenly overwhelming. "Damon, what happened? How did I get here?" I inquire, trying to piece together the events leading up to this moment.
"You passed out. I brought you here," he explains, his voice gentle yet guarded.
I nod, processing his words. Memories flood back—Pearl's attack, Damon's rescue, and the realization that Damon is a vampire. It's a lot to take in, but I find myself oddly at ease in his presence.
"Damon, how am I healed?" I ask, puzzled by my sudden recovery.
His grin is both reassuring and cryptic. "Magic," he replies with a playful wink. "I fed you my blood."
He says it like it's the most normal thing in the world. Like drinking blood is like drinking a cup of orange juice. Which, I guess, for him it is. After all, he's a vampire. But I'm not. I'm just plain old, very, very human Bella Swan, who hates the mere sight of blood. So yeah, the fact that Damon just stated that I drank it—doing wonders on my stomach.
"You What!" I'm not in his arms anymore. My spine's straight as a rod, and it doesn't plan to budge anytime soon.
"Come back here." Damon complains. He holds his arms open, and no matter how much I want to cuddle back into his warm body, I won't. I'll wait forever if I have to. I'll wine and complain until he relents. I'll….
I'm in his arms again. Not sure how it happened. But in a blink, I'm in Damon's arms. And this time I don't think he'll let me go.
"Damon." I sigh. His head is buried in my hair, his warm breath fanning across my neck. I don't think I can resist this much longer.
"You were dying." He whispers just loud enough for me to hear. "Hell Bella, you looked so pale…You can't expect me to just sit there and do nothing."
"No, I expect you to take me to a hospital like a normal person."
"I'm not normal." He says it like it's a burden. And I guess, in a way, it is. "My type of vampire, Originals, our blood can heal humans. And no matter what you say Bella, I'll never regret feeding you my blood. Ever."
I'm quiet for a long time.
Again, Damon's sweet words have left me speechless.
"It's just…" I finally choke out, "It's just a little overwhelming. I mean, I thought that I've left the whole vampire problem behind me in Forks, and trust me that story didn't have a happy ending. And now…now…"
"Now you're in a supernatural mess again." Damon says. I can feel him grin against my neck. If my arms weren't pinned in-between us, I would slap him.
"Something like that."
There's another long pause. It seems to happen a lot with Damon and I. But I like them. Even though it's quiet, it's a comfortable quiet. Plus, at the moment, Damon can't seem to stop touching me.
I really like that.
More than I care to admit.
"Damon." I whisper.
"Hmm?"
"We have a lot to talk about."
"I guess we do."
"Important stuff."
"Yep."
Another pause. He just doesn't want to talk.
"Damon."
"Hmm?"
"Why am I only wearing a shirt?" It's a question that had just occurred to me. Actually it's the first time I've noticed it since I woke. My old, bloody clothes were nowhere to be found. Instead, I'm wearing a black dress shirt buttoned so it just hides my cleavage. One quick check and I sigh in relief.
My black, lace bra is still in its place.
"I was wondering when you would notice that." Finally, Damon's head lifts away from its perch in my neck. His blue eyes are full of mirth and interest, "I find that I like you in my shirt. It
…accentuates you're body Isabella." My names purr on his perfectly shaped lips.
He twists his body so that he hovers above me. One hand resting gently on my hip, the other supporting him above my head. He's smiling.
It's a dangerous smile.
A you're fucked kind of smile.
And boy am I.
"Fuck." I whisper softly.
"Hmm," His head ducks down, allowing him to trail the tip of his nose across my cheek until his lips rest over my ear. Then he whispers to me something that makes my heart race. Makes my thighs squeeze unconsciously together. Makes me want something that I've never wanted before. "I've never taken you for a black lace kind of girl Isabella."
Yep.
I'm fucked.
