For a long moment, Elysia simply stared at him.
Her sharp green eyes, usually unreadable, flickered with something rare—hesitation.
Damien could see it clearly. The split-second conflict in her mind. The urge, the desire, to call his mother immediately.
Tch.
Of course, she did.
To any rational person, this was insanity. His body convulsing, muscles spasming unnaturally beneath his sweat-drenched skin, veins bulging as if something inside him was trying to crawl out—anyone else would think he was on the verge of death.
And yet—
He smirked.
'She needs to get used to this.'
"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" His voice was hoarse, rough from the sheer exertion, but it carried its usual amusement. "About calling my mother."
Elysia's fingers tightened against the tray ever so slightly, the only outward sign of her internal thoughts.
He chuckled, low and dry. "Forget it."
Elysia's eyes snapped back to him, sharp, analyzing.
