MACEY

What the hell are you doing here? That was the first thing I said when Damien finally let go of my face.

He did not answer. Not really. He just pressed his forehead to mine, as if he needed the anchor, his chest rising and falling so hard I could feel it in my own bones. His voice was low, almost broken, whispering the same word over and over again.

“I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry.”

Sorry? God, no. If only he knew. I was not sorry at all. My lips still tingled, my pulse racing ...