Page 111 of Eternal

AZRA

“Delicate” by Damien Rice

Present

W aking up to my phone ringing felt like a slap.

I blinked against the harsh light of the screen and read the name Viktor .

I fumbled to answer, half asleep. “Hey…”

“ Kroshka , where the fuck are you and why aren’t you still awake?”

I yawned, my mind still tangled in last night’s mess. “I don’t know…”

There was a pause, then a long, drawn-out, “ Ohhhhhhh !”

My heart stopped

This stupid man turned on the camera. And there I was, naked, tangled in sheets that weren’t mine.

The flood of last night came crashing back, the screams, the scratches and kisses, the whispered promises, the touches, the rough softness of Damir, the braid he held on too while breaking me from the inside, the way my body had finally stopped fighting.

My cheeks burned hotter than I wanted.

This is… embarrassing .

I slammed the phone down, muttering, “ Fuck .”

Vik’s laughter spilled through the speaker. “I need an explanation…”

And I simply panicked and hung off.

I rolled over, burying my face in the pillow, wishing the ground would swallow me whole or slap me.

It was funny in a terrible, humiliating way how completely exposed I was, not only physically but emotionally.

I threw off the covers in a rush, heart hammering, and scrambled to find my shirt on the floor.

My hands trembled as I pulled it over my skin, skin still tingling, still alive with last night’s war and something softer.

I caught my reflection in the mirror as I walked past the bathroom. The wild, messy hair, when did I even let them down… I thought I had a braid last night. Dark circles under my eyes, a soft flush on my cheeks.

For the first time in forever, I felt… real. I almost tripped over my own feet as I made my way to the kitchen.

And there he was. Damir .

Calm and dressed, he was making coffee for him and tea for me, a bag of food sitting nearby like he’d already been out to buy breakfast.

My keys are here too.

So he brought my bike back?

I can see the lemon and honey on the side, he’s doing my tea like I do it…

He glanced up, that cocky grin spreading across his face. “Are you trying to escape, Azra?”

I crossed my arms, still confused. “Vik saw me. Naked .”

His grin grew wider. “You’re adorable like this.”

“It’s really , really, really not funny,” I muttered, but I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.

He poured the tea and coffee in two glasses before advancing toward me, “It’s actually really, really really cute to see you all flushed like that…”

The flutter in my chest was something new… It’s terrifying.

“Go take a shower,” he said, voice softer now. “Then come eat. I got your favorites.”

I glanced at the bag. “Croissants?”

His mouth twitches. “There’s a French bakery twenty minutes away from here.”

“You drove twenty minutes for this?”

He shrugs. “You were still asleep.” He stepped closer, his hand brushed my hip as he passed, not accidental. Then a quick, playful swat on my ass and I turned around, narrowing my eyes. “Really?”

“Too tempting,” he said, completely serious. “Go, go. Your breakfast’s gonna get cold.”

“ Insanity… ” I muttered, but I was already walking toward the bathroom.

I closed the door behind me.

Then I caught my reflection in the mirror again. A smile, a real one. Stupid , soft, and affectionate.

I reached out like I needed proof, fingertips brushing the glass, like to make sure I wasn’t imagining it.

I was smiling. Actually smiling .

And the craziest part? I didn’t stop.

I kept that smile through the water, through the heat of the shower pouring over me, still smiling when I let my hair down, when I pulled on one of his shirts, definitely left there on purpose this morning.

It smelled like him.

I returned back there and saw him sitting there looking at something on his phone. Then, he looked up and down at me, smiling proudly.

I sat next to him and stared at the tea still hot and the stuffed croissants on a plate.

“You actually fainted on me. Didn’t know you were that weak. I didn’t even use the blindfold last night.”

A blindfold?

I laughed, shoving him lightly. “You’re stupid.”

We sat in, small conversation between bites, our plates half-picked at, coffee and tea cooling in our cups. My body still felt dead, like I’d barely been stitched back together after our night together.

And yet somehow, I wasn’t falling apart.

Damir had one arm sprawled across the back of my chair, legs stretched out, one ankle hooked over the other. I went to lift my cup again and caught his stare, he was always watching me.

“What?” I asked, suspicious.

“You’ve got cream,” he said, nodding to my upper lip.

Before I could react, he leaned in and licked it clean, one slow sweep of his tongue.

I blinked. “Seriously?”

He gave a lazy smile and shrugged. “What? Wasting food is a crime.”

He was still like this, even after everything, still cocky, still bold, still him .

“You’re shy about this now?” he murmured, clearly amused. “ Partner , I had my tongue inside you a few hours ago.”

I groaned, covering my face with both hands. “Please don’t say that while I’m trying to drink tea. I already have a headache.”

“ Oh ? Was I too rough?” he teased, nudging my bare knee with his under the table.

I cracked a grin, looking at him through my fingers. “Should’ve bitten your dick.”

He barked a laugh, tipping his head back. The sound of it filled the room, so soft and real, it made my chest ache in a way I didn’t expect, then he leaned in and kissed me, quickly.

“ Mmm ,” he hummed against my lips. “Kinky again? Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

I bit down a laugh, but it came out quieter than I meant. There was something about him like this, barefoot, half-dressed, feeding me breakfast he actually went out and got, that was undoing me all over again.

“You good?” he asked after a minute.

I nodded, eyes flicking to the side. “Yeah.”

He leaned forward, plucking a spoon off the table and dipping it into his cup like he hadn’t just licked cream off my lip a second ago, his thumb brushed the edge of my knee under the table, and I peeked at him.

He looked smug, comfortable , not a trace of regret anywhere on his face, not a single drop of that morning-after awkwardness that had started crawling up my spine.

“Still thinking about biting my dick?” he asked casually, stirring his coffee.

I nearly choked. “I swear to god, Damir .”

“I’m only asking,” he said, lips twitching. “You looked deep in thought.”

“I was,” I deadpanned. “About how to fake my own death.”

He snorted. “You’re too selfless for that. You’ll hide and die in silence knowing you.”

I rolled my eyes and leaned back, his fingers were still on my leg, lightly tapping now, restless. Like they missed touching more of me, and that was exactly the problem.

Because as warm and real as this felt, I could already feel myself coiling inward again.

The panic creeping in like it always did after a good thing.

This doesn’t last, it never does. But then the silence got loud in my head again.

I shifted in my seat, glancing at the window. “I should probably get going.”

Damir’s brow arched. “Why?”

“I’m not here on vacation,” I said, standing up and brushing my hands over the t-shirt. “And I don’t know…” I don’t know if you want me to stay…

He didn’t move right away, he simply watched me like he knew what I was doing, knew the way panic and muscle memory made me run when something started to feel too good.

“You don’t have to rush off,” he said finally, voice low but careful. “We’re not on a timer.”

I nodded, already gathering my stuff. My bra was hanging from the back of the chair, my shorts were somewhere near the couch, and my stomach was knotting like I’d overstayed a welcome that never came.

“Are you going back to avoid Viktor’s interrogation?” he added with a smirk. “Because I’d love to hear that call.”

I scoffed, trying to play it cool. “He’s gonna kill me.”

Damir stood then. “Then stay here, breathe , and call him when you’re not blushing like you did something bad.” He took the bag from my hand, my jacket, my keys, even my phone, and he set them gently on the table like it was nothing.

Then he stepped closer and touched my cheek with the backs of his fingers, eyes gently pleading. “You don’t owe anyone an explanation, and I’m not kicking you out. Actually, I want to keep you here.”

I swallowed hard, pulse thudding. The steadiness of his gaze always caught me off-guard, he never looked at me like I was fragile.

“ Stay ,” he said again. “I’ll make dinner tonight.”

Why am I so scared to stay and let him make me happy for a few more hours?

“You’re doing that thing again,” he adds.

“What thing?”

“The one where you pretend this didn’t mean something.”

My throat tightened. “ I’m not ? — ”

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” he murmured, grinning. “But I already saw you naked, partner . No point hiding now.”

I laughed despite myself. “You’re insufferable.”

He leaned in, brushed his lips over my cheek, then the corner of my mouth. “And you’re still here.”

“I won’t be if you keep talking.”

“Bold of you to threaten the man who made you breakfast and made you come three times.”

I shoved him lightly, finally letting out a laugh that eased the knot in my chest. “I hate you.”

He kissed me again, quick, soft, heartbreakingly soft. Then he stepped back. “ Stay… ”

I nodded slowly. “Okay.”

He smiled, that lazy, and utterly devastating smile. “Thank you.”

We sat there, finishing our breakfast in silence. Then he stretched as he stood, cracking his neck. “I’m hitting the shower. Try not to run away while I’m soapy, naked and vulnerable.”

I rolled my eyes, but the corner of my mouth twitched. “No promises.”

He passed behind me, pausing to drag a knuckle softly down the back of my neck, as if to leave a trace of warmth before he disappeared into the bathroom.

I exhaled, alone now with the remains of breakfast and then my phone lit up again.

Viktor .