Page 64 of The Vow

“Fine.”

He dragged my hand to his chest, the first touch felt like hot coals branded to my palm.

“What did Belmont do to you?” I asked for the final time, lightening my touch to nothing more than a feather-like swipe of my fingertips, and it still drew a blanch of pain over his face.

“A bag of oranges,” he rasped.

I blinked, sure that I couldn’t have heard him right. “He beat you with…oranges?”

Damon’s chin jerked. “It’s an old-school mobster trick. A bag of oranges can do massive internal damage but leave no trace.” He breathed a little easier when I pulled my fingers away. “At least, that’s the rumor. I’ve never tested the theory…or been the guinea pig.”

“How do you know there isn’t massive damage? That he didn’t rupture something or cause a bleed?—”

“I was checked,” he cut me off.So, that was why it had taken them so long to come back.Damon’s fingers gripped my chin, eyes sparkling at mine. “Worried about me, Robber?”

I frowned and replied tartly, “Worried someone will kill you before I get the chance.”

His laugh split into a groan. “Don’t worry, you’re killing me now. Being this close. Seeing you wearing my jacket. Feeling your hands on my skin…it’s been…” He couldn’t even get the last words out, emotion strangling the words. He cleared his throat, surprising me but not pushing the subject. “I need to sit. And ice. According to Pat.”

Guilt washed over me, blinding me momentarily to all my righteous anger I usually armed myself with. I knew he was injured, but I made him stand here the whole time, in pain.Although if he’d just answered me in the first place…

“I’ll get the ice.”

I left him to make his own way to the bed, slipping from the room and quickly padding to the kitchen. On the counter laytwo bags of crushed ice already prepared; I would’ve thanked Pat on my way back, but he wasn’t by his puzzle. My guess was he didn’t want to be anywhere near what he’d left in Damon’s room.

When I returned, Damon was propped against the headboard, his long legs stretching on top of the covers.

“Is this why you left me?” I asked, and steel orbs speared mine.Shit.“Earlier, I mean,” I clarified and went to his side.

I set both ice bags down next to him, waiting to see if he’d demand I do it.

“Belmont wanted to meet me alone. It was as simple as that,” Damon said gruffly, taking one of the bags and laying it on his abdomen. I bristled at the splinter of disappointment that dug under my skin.

His eyes pinched shut, and he breathed out tightly. “Fuck.”

It was a good thing his eyes were closed because all I could focus on was the melody played out by the tension moving through his muscles, and it was better if he didn’t have a front-row seat to the way I ogled him.

Or the way I searched for a sign that something serious was wrong.

“Did you know he was going to hurt you?” I bit into my bottom lip.

The column of his throat went taut as he swallowed. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why do you think, Robber?” he rumbled.

Because I would’ve argued against it. Because I stupidly cared enough to not want Damon beaten to a pulp for me.

I stiffened, unsure what annoyed me more. His presumption or the knowledge he was right.

“And what if I didn’t care that you were heading off to a beating?” I attempted to deflate some of his confidence.

His eyes peeled open, and slowly, he looked at me. “Then I guess I spared myself the pain of being tortured twice today.”

My lungs deflated.Damn him.

“So, Belmont beat you with oranges for insulting him in his own home?” I veered back on course.

---