The Pack Slut

Ten- New Bandages, Old Wounds

I wake up before Damon does.

I stare at his face for a moment and smooth the worry lines on his forehead before I sit up. My shoulder is stiff and sore but the pain is duller than yesterday.

I sit for a few minutes and go over what Damon said to me: "I love you." He saw through whatever defensive walls I put up between everyone and myself. The only time that I felt safe enough to let my guard down was around Damon. I knew he wouldn't judge me or hurt me. I knew he loved me before he even told me.

He told me he loved me, the thought makes me smile and my insides tickle. I feel like a giddy little girl finally getting the magic pony she's always wanted. Only, I haven't always wanted this—love—it seemed like such a fake thing until now. I always assumed people made it up because they wanted something more to believe in. I had never actually seen someone in love, never mind actually been in love.

It's usually just fuck and done for me. No strings. No feelings.

I knew it would piss off my mother and the perfect image she is always trying to show people. I hoped that one day she would stop being fake enough to actually be my mom and not my mother.

Yes, there's a difference.

I learned from a young age that my parents didn't act like the so called "in love" mates that they showed the pack. I would listen to them fight—never really knowing what it was about—until one day I found out. I found out what they were fighting about.

They were always fighting about me.

I decided that I was done playing their stupid game of pretend. I wanted to be reckless and not care. I wanted to show people that I wasn't a prize to be won or something to be bartered over. I wanted to do what I wanted without worrying about what other people thought of me.

I hadn't even realized that I had put up walls and lies of my own until Damon tore them down.

And to think, I almost became my mother. The horror!

I glance at Damon again and decide that he is deep asleep enough for me to get some reading in since it is still pretty early in the morning.

I reach over Damon—careful to not put weight on my injured arm or to bump Damon—and I open the top draw to my night table. I pull out The Hunger Games and lean back into my pillows. Damon doesn't even stir.

I hadn't had the chance to read this book before I watched the movie but I was interested in reading it none the less. I am drawn deep into the forest with Katniss Everdeen when I feel Damon pick up his arm to rub his eyes.

I quickly shut the book and shove it under the covers on my side of the bed.

"Morning sleepy head," I turn to smile at Damon.

"Morning," he grumbles and slowly sits up. He glances at me before pulling the covers off his legs and putting his feet on the floor. He doesn't stand yet so I reach out with my right hand and softly touch his back.

"I realize that you must be upset about the rouges," I pause to test his reaction but he doesn't move and I can't see his face. "It's not your fault at all. And though a few people were hurt, no one was killed."

Damon stands up from my bed and leaves my hand to fall back on top of my covers.

I swallow my hurt, he's just stressed and upset.