Page 23 of Marked

Damien's face.

Black eyes turning blue.

An excruciating pain in her body.

The memories faded in and out as she fought to stay conscious.

In between scattered images, she would hear different voices talking above her.

A sharp stinging jolted her arm, and she tried to gasp but found herself unable to move.

Her eyes refused to open, even after she willed them to do so.

The world wavered, and she felt more small, sharp pokes over her body as her mind went hazy again.

The next time she was aware enough to think, something cold was on her skin.

The soft material was nice, and the coolness brought a sense of relief to her body.

She willed herself to be more coherent this time.

Trying and failing to identify the voices around her, she moved her attention to the areas of her body that were in pain.

Pinpointing them proved useless as they were poked with something that helped ease the suffering in her limbs.

As she succumbed to the darkness again, she wordlessly thanked them, and her body fell back into slumber .

Blair continued to drift in and out of consciousness.

Every time she became alert, her mind still struggled to catch up, tangled in the haze of pain and confusion.

When she tried to open her eyes, her body would not cooperate.

The overwhelming ache was a constant wave that pulled her under, away from her surroundings.

"Is she healing? We need to-" a voice said quietly, just out of her reach. Blair couldn't make out the last words clearly, but the tone was full of concern and something heavier. Guilt, maybe? She tried to focus, but her eyelids felt too heavy, and a strange sense of dizziness overtook her.

"You need to get some rest, Damien," another voice, soft and firm, interjected.

The name pricked something inside her, and a figure formed in her mind.

Damien. At this point, she hadn't been able to piece together who was taking care of her, but this name meant he was here.

A cool touch on her forehead followed, and Blair felt her body flinch in response to the tenderness of it.

"Here are some of the books you requested; the owner had a few suggestions as well," a low voice said,

"Thank you." Damien's voice replied, the clipped words revealing his exhaustion.

Despite the fog in her mind, Blair felt a strange tug in her chest. The pain in his tone made her want to reach out, to tell him that she was okay.

Although she tried, her limbs were too heavy, and her body still could not cooperate.

The more that Blair came around, the more she could piece together what was happening around her. Other times, words were missing, and she couldn't figure out who Damien was talking to.

It became his voice that pulled her out of the depths most.

"I'm here, Blair," he said fiercely one day.

There was a pause, a long silence, before the words came again, softer, filled with more emotion than Blair had ever heard from him before.

"I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

He then began reading from what she thought was a book she had heard before. A faint memory of a bookstore lingered in her mind, with him in the doorway staring at her. The image stayed for a mere second and then fizzled out.

A deep humming awakened her the next time.

Blair felt a cool, damp cloth press against her skin again.

It moved over her chest, her arms, and the back of her neck.

The sensation was calming despite the ache in her body and the throbbing of her wounds.

The touch was gentle, the movement slow and soothing, the kind of care that made her feel like she wasn't lost in a sea of confusion.

Her eyes fluttered open, just for a moment, and she saw the outline of someone leaning over her, a face close enough for her to feel the warmth of their breath on her skin. The humming stopped, and words took its place.

"Just a little longer," his voice murmured. "Your body is still healing."

As the fabric moved down her leg, the motions then stopped, and she sensed Damien taking a seat at the foot of her bed.

The familiar sound of pages being turned held her straying focus before a story began; it featured a woman sailing across the sea on an exciting adventure.

The reader paused, his voice drifting, and Blair couldn't help it as she drifted back to sleep.

The shuffle of footsteps cleared the haze this time, a slow exhale of a breath following.

"It should be any day now. You should use this time to rest."

"No," he snapped, and for a moment, it seemed like the world held its breath. "I’m going to be here when she wakes up."

Blair's heart ached at his words. The rawness in his voice, the desperation. A familiar sting hit her chest, the feeling of wanting to comfort him, wanting to tell him it was going to be okay, that he didn't need to stay so close, that she wasn't going anywhere.

But the words wouldn't come as the arguing quieted, and Blair could feel the tension begin to ease. The warmth of a rough, strong, and steady hand found hers gentle but firm. The touch was everything. It held her in place, kept her tethered to something real, something tangible.

"You can wake up any day now, feisty." Damien's voice was closer now, though strained as if he hadn't entirely given in to his fatigue.

Her fingers twitched as if responding to his touch, and Blair felt the warmth of his hand tighten. With that, Blair let herself drift again, sinking into the embrace of darkness, a place where she was free from pain. She clung to the sound of Damien's voice and the memory of his face .

The next time she became aware, the fog that had once settled on her mind felt the clearest it had yet.

Although still there, it had become a thin layer that separated reality from her dreams. She couldn't remember how long she'd been here, nor could she place the aching in her body.

As she focused, the pain seemed more subtle than what she remembered.

As the last bit of haziness broke, Blair felt a new level of recognition.

The more her mind cleared, the more she focused on her senses.

She could feel the softness of the bed, smell the scent of disinfectant, and hear the faintest rustling.

Blair blinked slowly, her eyelids heavy as if she'd been holding them shut for days.

Then, she felt the pull of something inside her urging her to finally wake up.

The dim light from above stung her eyes as she managed to open them fully. For a moment, everything was blurred but then, as if by instinct, she focused on one spot, and it became clear.

Damien.

He was sitting beside her, hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees, his face pale and worn.

His dark auburn hair was disheveled, and his eyes were bloodshot.

Books surrounded him. Most closed, but one opened halfway, showcasing one of the stories she vaguely remembered from her small moments of awareness.

She blinked, focusing on him. Damien lifted his head, his gaze meeting hers, and something in him shifted.

His posture, which had been tense and coiled, immediately relaxed.

He stared blankly at her, blinking rapidly as if he might be hallucinating.

When a look of realization came over his face, his breath came out in a shudder, and a visible weight seemed to lift from his shoulders.

He leaned back in his seat, the corners of his mouth twitching into a faint, almost imperceptible smile.

"Hey."

His voice was a hoarse whisper, breaking through the stillness of the room.

Blair's chest tightened at the look in his eyes.

The intensity almost rattled her as she tried to put herself in his shoes.

She couldn't remember much of the recent time frame, just fragments.

She quickly played through the most recent memories she had gathered between waking and sleeping.

Her days had been blurry and inconsistent, but his days had probably been full of anxiety and panic.

Her throat had a raw dryness as she tried to speak. She swallowed painfully, then tried again.

"Hey..." she rasped, her voice a whisper, barely audible. "I'm okay."

His eyes widened at the sound, and for a heartbeat, neither of them moved. Then, Damien stood, the book on his lap falling to the floor. He immediately moved to her side, but he hesitated as he approached.

"You're awake ," he whispered, almost as if the words were too fragile to say out loud, like saying them would make her go back to sleep.

"You're here ." she managed again, forcing the words through the dry ache in her throat.

She lifted her hand and grabbed his, giving a simple but firm squeeze.

Damien looked down at their hands, his fingers trembling slightly as if testing the waters to see if this was real.

He smiled again, his body physically relaxing.

"Of course I am, feisty." His voice lingered on the last word, a raw sound of affection spilling out that made her chest tighten again.

She didn't know how she had gotten here or how long she had been unconscious, but what she did know was that Damien was looking at her differently. A new emotion filled his eyes, brighter than the one they shared previously.

Blair blinked again, and this time, the room seemed clearer, but her eyes still ached. The walls surrounding her and the sterile smell made sense, but there was still something that felt like this wasn't real.

"What happened?" she croaked, her eyes scanning his face for his reaction.

He exhaled deeply like he knew that question would be the first to be asked. His hands tightened but then relaxed as though afraid to hurt her.

"The hunters found you, and you dealt with their shadows for a while before I could get there. You did so well, Blair. Most people wouldn't have survived this." His brow furrowed as he studied her as if searching for any sign of anger or resentment toward him for not being there.

Damien swallowed hard, his voice low as he continued.

"I brought you back as fast as I could. The Apothecary helped me find a few Healers.

You were unconscious for days." He let out a soft, bitter laugh, a trace of relief mixed with something darker.

"I told them you would wake up soon. There was no way you could go that much longer without yelling at me. "

Blair's eyes softened as she looked at him, feeling a strange sense of comfort in his presence.

Her gaze lingered on him and then shifted to the walls behind him.

They were not what she remembered. The yellow paint and wood trimming signified that she was not in the Inn at the hot springs anymore.

Shifting her sight, she moved her head around the room she was in.

"Where-" she started to ask, trying to sit up, but her body protested. A sharp ache in her back made her gasp. Damien was immediately there, his arm sliding behind her to support her, his other hand resting gently on her shoulder.

"Easy," he murmured, his voice soft, protective. "I had you moved once you were stable. I didn't want to chance them finding you again." He motioned to the bed with his hand, "I opted for more room. Even the bed is bigger, so there is no need for any more pillow forts." He said with a wink.

Blair leaned back into bed with a small smile, but her eyes never left him. As hazy as some parts of her life were right now, the one clear aspect was Damien: his witty expressions, his way of caring, and his dumb nickname. Despite the situation, despite the pain, she wasn't alone.

She took a second to continue to look around the room.

The only other pieces of furniture were a small leather chair and a tray table next to her bed.

The wood rectangle held dirty wrappings that were covered in dried blood.

Wincing, her eyes moved down her own body.

Her arms, mostly wrapped with new bandages, were covered from her wrist to her shoulders.

She lifted her right arm, bending it at the elbow.

Her muscles protested from the lack of movement, and she grimaced, lowering her arm to move the blanket from her lower body.

More wrappings adorned her torso and legs.

"It's almost been over a week," Damien explained, following her gaze and looking down at the bandages as well. "Our goal was to stop the bleeding. Your cuts were deep, some even getting close to the bone." He looked up, finding her eyes looking back at him.

She sighed with a grin, "I bet the hunters looked worse after you were finished with them." Her grin grew as she scrunched the blanket next to her and motioned for him to lay with her in the bed.

He looked at her and shook his head no, trying to lay the blanket on top of her. She scowled and lifted it once more.

"Stop being stupid and come lay next to me."

He opened his mouth to protest but stopped, eyeing her injured body.

Moving slowly, he sat next to her and then swung his legs on the bed.

As he did so, she thought briefly that maybe she would regret inviting him into bed with her but in her battered and pain filled state, she couldn't bring herself to care.

She closed her eyes and listened to his heartbeat, the only sound for the next few minutes.

"I'm sorry, Blair. This whole thing has been my fault." his deep voice confessed, breaking the rhythmic beat that filled her ears. “...but I need you to know that I'd rather be torn limb from limb by the darkest parts of my soul than ever see you like that again."

Her eyebrows rose at the statement, but she didn't reply.

He couldn't mean that, could he? She pushed past the way her heart fluttered and thought about a way she could bypass those feelings, filing through the smart-ass remarks she had in her arsenal.

As she opened her mouth, she heard slight snoring coming from Damien.

She smiled, tightening her grip on him as she voluntarily welcomed the haze this time.

I’m really glad you’re here.