Damon’s POV

“Can I have breakfast?”

Nora's spoon dropped and clanged against her plate, but she hardly paid any attention to the sound.

Her eyes were fixed on me, her mouth open in shock as she sat still. If I didn't notice the slight fluttering of her lashes and the movement of her chest, I would have feared I had turned her into a statue with my sudden and unexpected question.

“Damon,” she cried and flew out of the chair, as if her brain finally processed what I said.

Thank ...