Chapter 7

Daemon felt her presence before he heard the footsteps. Even though he had hoped for it with all his heart, seeing Jaenelle come after him destroyed any illusion of self control he might still have. He braced his hands tightly against the edge of the wooden seat, trying to stop shaking. It took him a few seconds to remember how to breathe; it took a bit longer to be able to look up at her.

Jaenelle crossed the garden to meet him. When she walked by the statue of the male, she ran her fingers along the edge of the fountain in a light caress. Daemon felt sick relief at the sight of her, whole and seemingly well. When he met her eyes, he didn't find fear, but he did see worry. And when she got close enough, he noticed the stiffness in the way she moved, the dark shadows under her eyes. She looked drained.

His heart ached and all the fear and anguish he'd been fighting clogged his throat. The doubts shattered the thin layer of hope he had built around his heart. She wasn't as strong as she'd been before she sacrificed her body to purge the Blood. And now, because of him, she'd lost the physical strength it had taken her so long to recover.

When Jaenelle sat next to him, Daemon flinched and tightened his grip on the wooden seat, not daring to touch her.

"Daemon," she called softly, waiting until he looked back at her. "Everything is alright."

That was what he wanted to hear. Why couldn't he believe in her, then?

"It's not. You're hurt." His voice was hoarse and tense. The words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop them. "What about the others? Where is everyone? What have I done?"

"You didn't do anything. I'm not hurt. Everyone left the Hall when you returned."

Daemon hissed, fury swirling inside him again. "That's not true."

Jaenelle tensed, but didn't deny it.

He clung to the seat as if it was the only thing that could keep him steady. His temper was still too raw, intense feelings still swimming too close to the surface. He couldn't trust himself around her. And that one piece of memory haunting him…. Maybe everyone else had left, but his brother had stayed.

"Lucivar," he breathed. Looking up, he studied her, trying to find the answer in her eyes. "I remember Lucivar; we were in the corridor. I was- I felt so angry, I wanted to…. What have I done to my brother?"

Jaenelle huffed out a breath. "Oh, Lucivar…" She shook her head dismissively. "He's a stubborn nosey prick! When he realized what was happening, he wanted to make sure everything was alright."

Daemon's heart sunk in his chest. Of course Lucivar would try to take Jaenelle out of there, fully knowing what he would be facing. But she didn't sound worried or sad. Looking at her, he found the same mix of annoyance and resignation he usually saw on the coven witches when any of the darlings had to deal with his brother. It was such a familiar expression that Daemon almost smiled.

Jaenelle noticed the slight change in his mood and laid a hand on his white-knuckled fingers.

"Lucivar is fine, Daemon. I don't know what the hell he was thinking to go after you, but you let him go. He's probably a bit sore still, but he'll be fine," she guaranteed. Then, she muttered under her breath, "Though he might not be, after I have a little talk with him."

Daemon closed his eyes. Thank the Darkness! Part of the weight on his chest disappeared, letting him breathe more easily for the first time that day.

He held her hand, cautiously linking his fingers through hers, taking comfort from the touch. Brushing a thumb over her wedding ring, he studied the flashes of light the sun cast on the small sapphires. She was still wearing it, but that didn't mean she would forgive him.

He needed to know.

"I scared you. I hurt you… Don't deny it! I saw it in your eyes."

Daemon pushed her sleeves up gingerly, revealing the ugly bruises around her wrists. With shaky fingers, he touched the dark purple skin lightly, carefully. "I remember doing this…" he whispered. "I remember the table, and you- you looked so scared…"

Jaenelle moved one leg up and across the seat, straddling it to be face to face with him. Then, she pulled his chin up with one finger, making him look straight into her eyes.

"Daemon, do I look scared?" When he didn't answer, she sighed patiently. "You had left the suite to get food, so I snuck into the bathroom to take a shower, thinking I'd be back before you. But you returned so soon I wasn't in the bedroom yet, so you decided to release your temper on the furniture." She frowned, assuming an almost sulky expression. Then, she shrugged. "Admittedly, it wasn't one of the best ideas I've ever had. I should've told you, or waited until you returned. And, yes, the look in your eyes in that moment made me nervous. But you didn't hurt me."

"I shouldn't have come to the Hall. I should've realized sooner, gone elsewhere. When this happens, the Sadist…" Daemon hesitated. No need to explain what had been obvious.

He straddled the seat as well. He needed to ask and he needed to see the answer in her eyes, more than hear it.

"To think I forced you to stay with me, forced you in any other way, makes me ill. Will you be able to forgive me, one day?"

"Forgive you? I would've been pissed off if you had run, if you had gone through the rut on your own again! In fact, you asked me to leave. I stayed, by my choice."

Daemon blinked. He had hoped to hear that, but he hadn't expected the flash of irritation and temper in her eyes. By my choice. He shuddered as the tension seeped out of his body.

"You didn't force me to do anything I didn't want to. I wouldn't allow it," Jaenelle said, firmly. "I've told you once and I haven't changed my mind: I accept the Sadist as part of what you are. I accept having to dance with him. Even if it knocks the wind out of me sometimes, it doesn't intimidate me." She brushed his hair back and smiled. "Anyway, it was you most of the time, delicious and passionate as always."

Her words lit his desire once more. Not like the uncontrollable fever of the rut, but more like a quiet desire to simply be with her. He leaned forward and kissed her. Then, he raised her hands and lightly kissed her bruised wrists.

"So, you're really well…" He said hesitantly, more a confirmation than a question. "Are you sure you don't need a Healer? You sounded hurt, this morning."

Jaenelle raised an eyebrow, a wicked smile blossoming on her lips. "Well, it's been three days with you, after over a week's absence. You didn't let me have much rest. It takes a toll on the body."

"Oh!" Daemon pressed his lips together. It was best not to answer that.

Jaenelle huffed out a quiet laugh. Shaking her head, she turned around and leaned back against his chest. Daemon wrapped his arms around her and it felt like home again.

"I've missed you so much," he whispered in her ear.

Jaenelle wrapped her arms around his, but her stomach growled before she had time to answer. Only then did Daemon realize he was also starving.

"I have a suggestion."

"And what is it?" Jaenelle tipped her head a little, to look at him.

"Since we have the Hall all for ourselves, we could go exploring and find out what Mrs. Beale left in the cold box."

Jaenelle's eyes lit up. Her smile widened, became mischievous. "That's a great suggestion."

"Mmm. And then we could go back to the suite and take a hot bath, with lots of bubbles." Daemon kissed her neck. She closed her eyes. "Then we'll go back to bed. I'll give you a back rub," his fingers slowly drifted along her arms, up to her shoulders. She let out a content sigh. "Thorough…" he lowered his voice to a murmur as he stroke her shoulders and neck, "...and relaxing. What do you think?"

Jaenelle moaned softly. "I think it's a very tempting offer…"

A/N: Thanks for the hits and reviews! I hope you had as much fun reading this story as I had writing it.