Reborn Deceit

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

Rose

When Rose woke the next morning, her head was pounding away as if an entire crew of construction workers were jackhammering away at her skull. She wasn't sure if it was from the alcohol she had consumed, or from all the tears she had shed over—

Rose jerked up in bed, the images of last night rolling around in her brain like a movie reel set to fast forward. She felt a panic attack coming on. Already, her throat felt like it was closing up; she was gasping in mouthfuls of air, but still her lungs burned. Her heart sped away at a rate that was definitely dangerous, a cold sweat coated her skin, and every inch of her body burned.

Rose made to grab the covers and whip them off of her in a frenzy to escape her fears, when she realized where she was. Alone, in Damians bed.

Then, the images of last night in bed with him chased away her panic attack, and she felt her body begin to relax all over again.

She could still feel his strong chest pressed up against her, one arm wrapped around her body, his palm resting flush against her belly. When her shirt had ridden up, and his large, calloused hand had come into direct contact with her skin, Rose had had to work hard to control her breathing.

She had woken up once in the middle of the night, screaming and crying, with images of the dead girl haunting her dreams. Damian had jolted awake beside her and had wrapped her thrashing body in his arms and pulled her onto his lap. When he pressed her face against his chest, it was as if a dam had busted free. She had sobbed, big, heavy, snotty sobs into his bare chest, and he had just held her close and stroked her back, murmuring the sweetest of things into her ear.

Rose wanted to tell him right then and there that she loved him. The way he held her and comforted her, Rose desperately wanted to believe that he felt the same. And when he had laid back down with her in his arms, and he had placed soft kisses on her head and cheek, Rose had forgotten every bad thing he had ever said and done to her.

It was as if Rose had unknowingly been waiting for Damian her entire life. She wanted to believe he was the reason she had never been able to get serious with any other guy before, because she was waiting for him to swoop in and steal her away.

But what about his dead soulmate?

The unwanted thought attached itself to Roses brain like an ugly leech. As much as she wanted to believe they could be soulmates who were destined to be together, Rose knew it wasn't true. He had his soulmate, and despite the fact that she may no longer be here, that wasn't going to change. Rose would never compare to the woman he lost. He would never love Rose the way he loved her.

And how could Rose compete with the ghost of a lost love?

For every step Damian took towards a hint of a relationship with Rose, he took three steps back. That's how she knew he wasn't ready; he wasn't over her. And Rose would be a terrible person if she blamed him, and an even more terrible person if she tried to push him into something he wasn't ready for.

So, as Rose lay alone in the bed of the man she was secretly, and painfully, in love with, she made a pact with herself to ignore her feelings for him. If he wanted to be with her, he'd let her know. Until then, she wasn't going to pursue him anymore.

Rose ignored the clenching pain around her heart.

Slipping out of the warm covers, Rose noted that it was still early in the morning. The sky was beginning to light up, but the sun was still hidden behind the mountains.

Padding softly across the room, subconsciously checking every nook and cranny for a hiding Damian, Rose opened the bedroom door just an inch and peered out. Rose was pretty sure the others, especially Mira, knew where Rose had spent the night, but the thought of them catching her walk of shame was something she desperately wanted to avoid.