Page 26 of Raise Up, Heart
“Well,” Cole says, swallowing. “No. It doesn’t. What matters is what I want, and what you want—and you can’t tell me that you don’t want me.” He waves the journal in the air. “You…you did this to Alex because you wanted me. And…God, Damon.” He’s on the verge of tears again, and you touch his cheek because his tears always rip you up. “All I want is you.”
You rub your fingers against his stubble. You let out a slow breath. “There are three more,” you say.
His chin is trembling, but he nods with determination. “Give me the next one.”
You hand it over and wait. It only gets worse, you know, but as Cole reads, you see him toughen up before your eyes. His face grows stony, his jaw sets, and when he finishes the second journal, he takes the third from you without a word, radiating a horrible strength.
Cole knows thathe should be tired, but he’s not. He feels like he’s had twenty cups of coffee, and he’s horny as hell. It’s shocking to him that he’s reading all of the terrible stuff that Alex has written, and he still wants to push Damon down on the bed and suck his cock, climb on top of him, and ride him hard. He’s honest when he says that even if Damon were covered in Alex’s blood, he wouldn’t feel any different.
The fourth journal is very short. Only about twelve pages, and then there are five pages with two words written over and over.
Help Me
Help Me Help Me Help Me Help Me
There’s no punctuation; each plea is scrawled any which way across the page, sometimes overlapping with others. Cole knows that it wasn’t written as a chant but as an intermittent plea in the midst of a sea of great pain and horror.
He closes the journal, puts it on top of the small stack, and lets out a long breath. “So,” he says. “He’s gone?”
“Completely,” Damon says. “Apparently, like with everything I do, I was very thorough.”
“The amazing Dr. Damon Black,” Cole says with shuddering awe bordering on terror. “Accomplished at everything he sets his mind to…or, in this case, his heart.”
Damon’s expression isn’t proud at all. He looks conflicted, tense, and Cole puts a hand on his arm, strokes up and down. His skin is soft, and the hairs of his forearm tickle Cole’s fingertips. The humanity of his lover tames his own fear.
Cole asks, “Do you know how this works?”
“How this works? I’ve already told you I don’t.”
“No, I mean—do you age? Or, are you…always going to be like this?”
“I’ve somehow taken over his body, not become an immortal,” Damon says in irritation.
“Oh,sorry, Dr. Black. I’m just trying to understand.” Cole’s tone echoes Damon’s.
“Well, suffice it to say that I’m not a zombie, I don’t suck blood—that’s apparentlyyourkink—and there won’t be anyone trying to cut off my head, declaring ‘There can be only one!’” Damon sighs. “I’m worse than any of that.”
“And you sayI’mdramatic,” Cole says. “Get over yourself. You’re not that big of a bad.” But he is that big of a bad and Cole’s insides shake with guilt and the natural fear of prey before a tamed predator.
Damon narrows his eyes and asks suspiciously, “Did you watch Buffy?”
Cole is so surprised and nervous that he starts to laugh. “The Vampire Slayer? No. Did you?”
Damon waves a hand at him and says, “Vices. Everyone has them. What’s important here, Cole, is that you accept the seriousness of this situation. I’m not safe here. I’m not safe anywhere. This doesn’t end up with a happily ever after.”
“I know that, Damon.” Cole sighs. He’s jittery and he’s wild still, but he knows that in the last six hours his life has changed utterly, and he’s so damn glad for that, no matter the cost. “I’m not stupid.”
“Of course not. I wouldn’t even like you if you were.”
“Much less have taken a man’s life to kiss me again.”
“Well, you’ve got an amazing kiss,” Damon says, looking Cole up and down. “And you’re kinda hot.”
Cole knows he should be horrified that they’re smiling about this, smiling about something that took a man’s life, and yet he can’t help the joy flowing through him. It’s Damon. It’sDamon. He’s still so entirelyDamon.
Cole knows that if it were different, if Damon had actively chosen this, then it would be different. Then Damon wouldn’t be the man he loves, he would be a true monster. But this…this was without intent. An accident in a way. No more Damon’s fault than the car accident that took Damon’s life. Only this time, Damon was the car barreling through Alex, all force and no purpose. Brutal. Violent. Senseless. And blameless.
As Cole’s stomach curls with renewed lust, and Damon leans toward him, Cole’s cell phone rings. It’s the middle of the night, Damon said earlier, but Cole has no idea what the time might actually be. He knows, though, that it’s someone in his family, calling to check on him, to find out where he is.
