He looked at me with this horrible expression on his face.
Dread.
I think that’s what they call it.
“I am utterly sick to my core,” he hissed.
I waited, I knew better than to interrupt him when he was upset. I learned it was always best to let him get it out.
“You being here in my presence is so wrong—I have put you in danger in everyway possible and I can’t stand watching you die in front of me. It’s like Joel watching Rose”—I winced—“Exactly.”
“But Damien I’m not dieing—
“You might as well be. That’s what I see when I look at you,” he spat, “I just see prey.”
“You know that’s not true Damien,” I hissed, “You told me so—
“I lied; I’m very good at it too. Years of practicing.”
“Stop!” I yelled.
His amber eyes were now set into some blank stare, his face was wiped clean of emotion.
“I can’t love you, Delilah; I was hoping you would see that so I wouldn’t have to do this. I don’t love you, but I don’t want to purposely hurt you,” he said tonelessly, “I’ve seen the things you think of, you don’t need to be hurt than you already are.”
“You’re hurting me now,” I whispered.
I hated that look in his eyes. It wasn’t my Damien’s eye’s, it was a velion’s eyes. His words stung worse than the eyes and emotionless face. They were cold and heartless. But I guess deep down I knew it.
He belongs in a dream, a fantasy world that I made up in my mind. I always knew that my foolish dreams would do more damage than I could ever have thought up.
“I’m sorry.” Was all he said though it held no purpose to me? I didn’t really care because I knew he didn’t mean it. He was just trying to fix the damage he had just created. It was like his eyes and face were the bite and his toneless words were the venom, now he was trying to suck out the poison.
“Your apology does nothing for me,” I growled.
He looked down and sighed. “Delilah—
I took a deep breath. “Are you saying this stuff because of them? Your clan?”
“No,” he growled, “It doesn’t deal with anyone but you and me.”
I looked down and exhaled shakily.
“Are you scared then?”
I heard him shuffle his feet.
“Of what?” He asked.
“Of me.”
“Why would I be afraid of you?” He asked, like the idea was absurd.
“Because you don’t want me close—
“Well obviously,” he groaned.
“Not for the reason you keep telling me,” I said softly.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re scared of being loved,” I told him.
“You’re ridiculous!” He yelled.
I looked up in trepidation. He had his fingers wound up into his hair and his eyes were closed.
“Damien?”
“YOU OF ALL PEOPLE—
“Damien I don t understand.”
“No, of course not,” he mumbled, “Your brain doesn’t comprehend as fast as I would like it too.”
He stared at me waiting. I shook my head helplessly.
“HATE ME!”
I stared at him in unconditional awe, both in frozen fear and dangerous wonder.
He waited yet again. Whether it being for me to yell back at him or to storm away in rage; I didn’t feel the need to do either of these aspirations.
“I can’t,” I whispered, softly.
That seemed to rattle him more than if I had screamed at him. He had prepared himself for the anger and the hate, but not the understanding I had given him.
“Why,” he begged. I heard the raw pain.
“Because I love you… whether you do or not. You’re the only one that makes my nightmares into dreams and you make reality worth living.”
“How can, you after all I’ve said to you?” he said in disbelief.
“I heard that you’re a good liar,” I said softly