Page 23 of Claimed By the Damned

I pause by the door, then begin to move slowly, deliberately, avoiding any sudden sounds. I can’t startle her, can’t let her slipdeeper into panic. If I wake her the wrong way, I become the enemy.

Another sound tears from her throat—a choked whimper, pure terror that slices through the quiet and guts me. My stomach twists, a fierce possessive instinct surging within me. She’s mine to protect. My fingers curl into fists for a moment before I force them open. She needs calmness, not more tension.

Her helplessness gnaws at me—an unfamiliar frustration coils deep in my chest. I hate seeing her like this. Hate the lack of control. I can only be here, steady and waiting. Her breath stutters again, shaking harder beneath the blankets. She’s spiraling, her own mind turning traitor, locking her down deeper.

Enough.

I sit on the edge of the bed, keeping my voice firm, calm. An anchor. “Lila.”

No response.

I reach out, brush fingertips against her cheek—light, careful. Testing. “Lila, wake up.”

Her body jerks. Not awake. Her pulse hammers too fast, erratic beneath her skin. Breathing worsens, bordering on hyperventilation. Frantic little gasps pulling in nothing.

“Breathe, Little One.” Command disguised as comfort.

Still nothing. Locked too deep.

Exhaling slowly, I slide my palm to her cheek, thumb running along the damp skin beneath her eye. A claiming touch. “You’re safe. You need to wake up now.”

A shudder rolls through her. Her entire frame locks for a split second before she gasps, eyes flying open—wide, glassy, lost.

She isn’t here. Not yet. Gaze darts wildly, unfocused. Body frozen, locked in the terror holding her captive. The room doesn’t exist for her—only the ghosts of before.

Maybe she sees walls that aren't there. Shadows that don't belong. Feels cold hands, suffocating. Whatever memory holds her, she isn't free.

“Lila.” I tighten my grip just enough so she can’t bolt. Can’t allow that. “You’re safe.”

She flinches, whites of her eyes flashing in the gloom. Muscles coiled—attack or run. Nowhere to go.

Her gaze darts around the room, frantic, searching for someone? Then, finally, her eyes land on me.

Chest heaves. Lips part. No words.

I lace my fingers through her hair to the nape of her neck—slow, deliberate. Anchoring her. Need to ground her. Other hand cups her cheek, tilting her face up slightly. Make her see me. “Breathe, Little One. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” I take a slow, measured breath, exaggerating the motion. Show her control. “Just like that. With me.”

She tries. A shallow breath sucked in. Attempting to slow it down. Body still trembling. Caught between then and now.

Another broken sound slips from her throat. Her grip tightens around my hand like she fears letting go. Damn it. Something inside me cracks wide open.

No thought. Just reaction. Body moves before the mind catches up, compelled by a raw, undeniable need. To fix. To impose order on this chaos. I slide closer, the air crackling with unspoken… something.

My hand hovers over her back for a heartbeat. Torn. Pull her close? Maintain discipline? A line I hadn’t intended to cross. Seeing her like this… it unravels the control I fight so hard to maintain.

I shift again on the bed. Muscles coil, bracing for her reaction. But she stays still. A silent yielding settles between us. I stretch out beside her, gently guiding her toward the heat of my body. When she finally gives in, tension bleeds out of me—a quietacknowledgment. She’s choosing this, trusting me, if only for now.

She collapses against me. The dam breaks. Every ounce of tension melts. Fuck. That’s when it happens—an unwelcome, insistent heat pools low in my belly. Cock hardens, pressing hot, heavy against the yielding curve of her hip.

Purely physical. A betrayal. Body reacting to the sudden, shocking intimacy of holding her small, trembling frame. Not planned or wanted. Especially not now.

“I’m sorry,” the whisper escapes, quiet, rough. A tactical retreat? Or a genuine slip? “Just ignore it. An involuntary reaction to this… closeness. It’ll pass.”

She nods slightly. A watery sound, almost a shaky giggle, escapes her lips. The sound slices through the remaining tension. A glimpse of her spirit. Relief floods me, sharp and unexpected. Her managing even that small sound feels like a victory.

Can’t have her feeling this. Not now. I need to comfort, not complicate.

But the warmth of her breath ghosting my skin, the unexpected rightness of her fit against me, the sheer vulnerability radiating from her—it bypasses conscious thought. Too close. Too fucking intimate. Grit my teeth. Force a slow, steadying breath. Will the heat away. Focus solely on the tremor still running through her.

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