10 Fairytales

***POV - Melaena

I see Damion’s mouth move but my heartbeat pounding in my ears causes ferocious drumming inside the helmet, deafening me for a few moments. I take a deep breath and close my eyes to calm my ticker down and when the thumping slowly stops, I can hear his voice.

“You okay?” He asks as soon as the grievous bodily harm to him stops. I nod and then I hear Enrique laughing from behind some logs. Douchbag!

“Enrique, you’re going to be a bloating carcass when I’m finished with you!” Damion shouts, but Enrique just laughs harder. I smell that fresh, citrus, and woody scent I have come to associate with Damion over the years. Dior … he’s the face of Dior … and if I have to take a wild guess, today he’s wearing Sauvage. Mixed with sweat! But somehow it triggers my butterflies. They must be drawn to the musky smell of perspiration. I barely register the pain from the bruised wounds on my torso as it is being drowned out by the heightened, throbbing ache between my legs.

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