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Fear.
How could he have ever mistaken such a feeling of dread and helplessness to be his unquestionable devotion of love for Rachel?
Never had Damian thought of such a word to be the answer to the thumping question that was his heart, but there was no better word that could describe this unbearable pain in his chest; the quickening of his pulse, the beading of cold sweat trailing down his torso, chilled by the ghost of a whisper of her breath gliding over his hot skin towards his trembling lips.
Fear, but not love.
Every caress from her finger tips against the beating of his heart was a mockery to their past, her kisses a wounding blade against him, and her beating heart a lie to them both.
“Don’t worry,” she sighs into the rapid pulse of his neck. “I’m here for you.”
She wasn’t supposed to be however, having with his own hand ended her promise; but, of course, he hadn’t extinguished it by his own volition.
“I’ll always be here for you.”