Charlotte gently wiped the dried blood off Damon's cheek. It had already crusted over, so she had to press a little harder to clean it properly.
"I'm fine," Damon said, taking her hand in his and pressing a soft kiss to her fingers. "This isn't my blood."
"Liar," she murmured, narrowing her eyes. "I can tell by the scent. It's yours."
She'd grown familiar with his scent over time, his unique pheromones were something her body recognized instinctively. There was no mistaking it. She could always tell his blood from anyone else's.
Damon let out a small chuckle and finally gave in. "Alright, fine. It's mine. But all the wounds are healed now. It's nothing to worry about."
"Of course it's something to worry about," Charlotte said, her voice soft but firm. "I just want to know your pain."
Since she couldn't be with him during the fight, the least she could do was understand what he'd been through. She couldn't protect him on the battlefield, but she could be there afterward.
