Lisa was alone with Damien now. She took care of him in the common room on the second floor of their home. Marcus and Rule were discussing matters about their former investigation in his study. Later on, they would receive feedback on the next step. She dressed the blisters on his knuckles and the skin of his face. There was also a slight scratch over his nose.
Lisa was dabbing the cotton swab over the busted skin of his lip in silence, and she could feel and see his searching eyes trained on her still. She had ignored him for minutes. She didn't give off anything to read on her expression.
Damien rested his arse on the edge of the high dining table while she stood before him. Their faces were inches apart as she bent forward to concentrate on caring for his wound.
Slowly, Damien held her wrist, stopping her movements. His steady gaze was distracting, and Lisa finally gave in. She let him bring down her working hand and caress it in his. She found his brown eyes in that second. The dull lighting in the room made it seem like she was staring into an endless pit of black.
"I don't deserve you," he said, breaking the silence.
Lisa severed his grip and focused on placing the tools back in the metal box marked with a red cross. She shut the lid and turned back to him, still bent on not saying a word.
"Lisa." He whispered, following her with his gaze as she hovered about him. "I didn't mean the things I said."
She was about to place the adhesive bandage across his nose when his words struck her. She hesitated at first and then pressed it down on the afflicted area harder than necessary.
"Damien, you meant every word."
"That's not true."
She carried the box and moved away, regardless. There was a wall shelf in the room by the left corner. Lisa crouched, pulling out the bottom drawer and placing it inside. When she stood supine, he was right next to her.
Her relationship with her step brother couldn't be defined. She knew it was how he genuinely felt about their situation, but she also knew he cared, and that was why she could clearly see guilt digging a hole through his mind.
"Be honest with yourself, brother. You don't need to change how you feel because I'm right in front of you."
When she called him what she always called him, she felt a pang of misery in her chest. The truth flooded back. Likewise, Rule, none of them had the same blood running through their veins. The bond she had cherished all these years was a lie. Everything was a lie.
"You're my sister. My day one. If you didn't exist, then I won't have a reason to live."
As Lisa held his gaze, memories of that forbidden night in the big apple gained momentum. It led her down a path of pain and desire. She recalled those hungry kisses, sweaty bodies entangled together, and illicit promises. Like that moment when Marcus revealed the truth, her strength began to waver. She averted her gaze to the floor, feeling his words deep inside her.
Damien held her hands in his and stepped closer. "Look at me. Please."
And she did, with a small fire burning.
"I agree, Damien. I caused this mess. My very existence ruined your family."
"Our family, and no! You did nothing wrong." He exhaled. "I'm struggling with the life we live. Learning the truth and hearing that this mark meant an ultimatum, messed with my head. I wasn't thinking straight."
"Do you really, really think things can go back to how they used to be?"
Damien knew exactly what she was talking about. It wasn't his father's bombshell dropped minutes ago or the fact they had a hundred days to live that mattered at this point. It was that night when they crossed a boundary they shouldn't have.
"Lisa, I-I—"
"The opera singer must have been a catch." Lisa walked away from him.
"She was nothing and you know—argh." Damien had steered abruptly to catch her arm and pull her back, but he faltered.
Concern held her voice. "Are you alright?"
His palm was over his side, nursing it. Lisa imagined the spot under his brown tee red and angry. Those demons must have bested him, but he was here, alive, and that was all she could focus on at that point.
"How am I the only one apologising when you left me for dead earlier?" He squinted, still holding his left ribs.
Lisa rolled her eyes. "Are you dead?"
"Ha ha." He kept a dry look. "Where's my necklet?"
"Where's my purse?" She cocked her head and a brow.
It clicked in Damien's head. She watched him realise he had left her purse at the opera house because of the same singer's distraction. He appeared uneasy.
"I'll get you a new one." He looked at her feet. "Heels too."
Lisa was confused. She stared at her feet after him, blinking and remembering she had lost the stilettos while being chased by the demon through the lonely streets. All this time, she was bare-feet.
She quickly raised the hem of her dress up her thighs, revealing a thigh holster. Lisa drew out the onyx with two fingers and when she looked up, Damien was staring. His eyes latched onto the pale skin of her thighs.
She found something dark and intense in his gaze. It wasn't the mischief from before.
She cleared her throat after a pause, and he gathered himself, raising his hooded eyes to hers, as a brief smile split his face.
"Here." Lisa brought out her hand.
Damien went for it and lingered his hold, stretching the eye contact and stealing her breath.
She gulped. "I bashed your car."
It took a few seconds for him to process what she had said. He didn't handle it well. She saw his brown eyes expand with anger and knew when to make a run for it.
She bolted out the door. Damien was hot on her heels. Her fast feet tapped lightly on the cool marble ground. It felt like the other million times she had been on a chase to catch or to survive the wrath of a demon or ghost. But this time, it was an angry Damien Cahill about to sentence her to her grave.
Lisa reached the stairs. She was about to put a foot on the first riser when a hand shoved her against the adjacent wall. Hands caged her in. She knew her captor very well.
"It had to be my car!" He whisper-yelled.
"It wasn't my fault."
"You owe me."
She scoffed. "In your dreams, Damien. We are even."
"Not a chance."
"Get. Off. Me."
"Or else."
His face was so close. She could feel his hot breath on her burning skin. She developed weak knees as her eyes fell to his lips.
He didn't hesitate.
Damien kissed her. There. On the stairs of their home with Marcus Cahill in the same building. They succumbed to the will of forbidden passions. She kissed him back with as much force, feeling the electricity all the way to her toes.
Lisa twined her fingers in his hair. His hands on her back pressed her closer. She had forgotten what it felt like to be really kissed by a man. The way his tongue commanded hers was like nothing she had ever felt before.
After a few minutes, he groaned and stopped his assault, resting his forehead against hers, panting. "I didn't realise how much I wanted to try this again."
Lisa sucked in a breath, pulling away. "No matter the place or time, this is still wrong."
"We are not related anymore."
"Yes, blood ties are much different now, but it's even worse."
"Enlighten me?"
"You're a hunter, Damien, and I'm a witch, like it or not."
She left him to wallow in her words and let it sink in. It was time to focus and hunt whatever has trespassed their city, not fan the flames of a forbidden and impossible relationship.