Damian woke up in the middle of the night, the guest room dark except for the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains. Zayn was sound asleep beside him, one arm draped loosely over Damian's waist, breathing slow and steady. The bruises on Zayn's face looked softer in the low light, the swelling going down, but the sight still made Damian's chest ache. He had almost lost him tonight. The thought sent a fresh wave of fear through him, sharp and cold.
He carefully slipped out from under Zayn's arm, trying not to wake him. His throat was dry, parched from the drugs Selene had used and the adrenaline that had kept him running on empty. He needed water. Just a glass. Nothing more.
The bungalow was quiet. The floorboards creaked softly under his bare feet as he padded down the short hallway toward the living room. The kitchen light was off, but a faint glow came from the living room — the end of a cigarette burning in the dark.
Kai was awake.
