When my mouth was as red as when I started, I put everything back into the desk drawer, got up, straightened my skirt, took a deep breath, and went for the door. This one was hard enough that blood flew in a thin arc. Tonight did not go as planned. I had a bright glimpse inside his head.
The look on his face had nothing to do with pain. I wouldn't lose the cool reserve that Damian could give me, not for anything. That one blinded, aching part knew that if I let this consume me, we would all die, and that was not acceptable. Was I? Not consciously, but controlling it had become automatic.
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