Damien didn’t know what to do, she didn’t know what to say, what could she say. Once Tray pulled back from the hug the look on his face froze her in place, then came his confession, the tears and the way he looked at his hands completely broke her heart.
She hadn’t wanted this for him, she never had but how could she say that to him now? How could she tell him that she’d never been missing, that she’d never been going anywhere when he’d already done what he had? Tray had killed his mother, the evidence was all over him speckled in blood and drenched through his scent but still the very idea of it struggled to properly sink in because Damien hadn’t seen this coming, hadn’t known he was even considering the idea. Every day she’d stood back and watched as the Shifter had become more and more brainwashed by Caim, she’d listened in silent agony as he’d even started to tell her how he liked and accepted his position in the Demon’s life.
The answer should have been obvious to her but it wasn’t. The reality of what had just happened was drowned out by the shock. Saying she was sorry didn’t quite seem to cut it and saying thank you just felt a million times worse so for a long time she didn’t say anything at all, she just reached up and slowly took his hands, covering those smeared drops of blood with her own, hiding them from his view.
“Come with me.” She breathed out slowly, eyes searching his face, her thudding heart remaining a lump in her throat as she leaned in to press a kiss to his lips and then turned away from him, leading the Shifter by the hand without another word down through familiar corridors toward her room.
Damien’s room still looked the exact same way it had when she’d first arrived there, it was completely void of personality save for the guitar leaning against the wall beside a bed with a personalised tombstone headboard. For all the time she’d spent in GhosTown recently the room was scarcely used, she only ever went in there to sleep and even then most nights when she stayed were spent in Cancer’s room instead usually annoying Hawk through the wall when she couldn’t sleep.
Now though, she simply closed the door behind them and lead Tray into the bathroom instead where she let him go to turn on the shower before turning around to look at him once more. She didn’t say a word, just watched his face as her hands slowly moved to slip the suit jacket off his shoulders, sliding it free from his arms before dropping it to the floor. Next her hands wandered to the buttons of his vest and so on until his clothes were a small pile on the bathroom tiles and she nudged him gently into the shower beneath the warm spray of water. Following in after him completely clothed, Tray’s bloodied suit erupting into flames behind her, burning away to nothing.
He could follow that voice. He could follow that face, those eyes. That kiss.
He followed her guidance with no particular inclination to go anywhere, but wherever he could keep her in his sights. He felt numb yet hyper-aware of touch, the warmth of her hand, the click of the door’s sound made him jump.
Her gentleness was noticed and experienced like the press of a soft fluffy blanket against one’s skin, soothing, comforting. He let her disrobe him and felt the water at his feet.
Though he was bare there was fabric between them and he could nearly sense ever fiber, every strand that made up the pattern of criss crosses that created fabric stitch by stitch. His arms looped around her and pressed her against him where he could settle into the warmth when the flames burst. He turned his head to watch the fire snuff out what was left of his mother in the room.
Between the fire and the water she slowly disappeared until there was no one left but Damien and Tray.
Then the lingering smolder of the fire sparked the memory of Caim and the part of Tray that had found his peace there, held some sort of loyalty felt ashamed of his betrayal. But, now that he had no obligation to uphold anything to the demon, owed him nothing, he felt a new type of confusion. Was it a mask to help himself cope or were those his real feelings? They felt blurred and his heart was as disoriented as his head. Even his surroundings were off. He could hear the noise and clatter of the lost boys gearing up for his celebration. The mere thought of the reality of who these people were was wild. Child murderers all grown up, every single one, loyal to self proclaimed kings that had taken over the world. When he realized how much that was normalized and not shocking to his system after all his time in the Hellbird’s world too, that’s when it dawned on him, this was his world and Caim was only a small part of that now. How did the runt of the litter and unwanted son of a vampire mobster end up important to anyone much less the Emperor of Hell or Kings of the Earth? His mind started to wander from the question as he caught her scent again. He didn’t give one damn shit. He didn’t care to think on any of that at all. The only world he really needed was right there in his arms and that’s when the clearing breath of relief finally blew out for him.
Everything in the room didn’t feel so distant anymore. Sounds weren’t so isolated. “Mmmm.” The deepest sigh came out. The vague hold of his arms gripped a more cradling embrace around her.
The him that changed his life and gave him something more to live for when his head would get too lost in the depressing void of his existence and reminded him he was still alive. His pregnant wife. At least that’s what Damien was to him, no ceremony needed to feel it.
His lover was more a miracle worker than any angel he’d ever heard. Virgin mothers, what’s the fun in that? Trumpet calls, fuck your ego. God’s forgiveness bestowed upon your fear of death because you weren’t good enough for Him. Nah. Feeling like a wretch for existing with the cards you were dealt never did seem right to him. He could never sing Amazing Grace and not feel wrong calling himself a wretch for goodness fucking sake. He would never call his children that. How could any God and seriously call himself their father? Fuck all that. He had someone more than any God could ever plan. More than a woman or a man. He knew it was just dumb luck that brought him here, but he was the luckiest damn man in the world.
He had a partner that could scour the depths of Hell and bring lost boys back to The Horned King. He could still feel the slap of Re’s hand on his face. The recollection of how his deep voice felt more like vise grip around his throat when he asked why he was stupid enough to fear his mother’s death and waste his life over it when she could still witness her grandchildren up close? Why had he not put two and two together yet? Had he not witnessed enough of the Hellbird fucking his gladiator bitch when he could be the tragic hero of his own damn love story, only his lover would actually be happy instead of desperate for him to make time like she already is. Oh she’d be happy because he’d be loyal unlike Caim or he’d be neutered at his next vet visit. Call him Doctor Wilde. So, maybe protective Daddy Re threw his own threats in as he was giving Tray a wake up call. Nevertheless, he didn’t feel completely woken up till just now.
She wasn’t a dream. She was right there in front of him and there was no time limit. There was no let me ask first. The world was open to them again and maybe, just maybe, they’d find his mother again in this big vast universe of souls some day. There was a glimmer of hope there. At least there was a chance anyhow. But, one thing was for certain. He had her right in front of him now and he suddenly felt wide awake.
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