Chapter Forty Four
“Worshipped”
Damon
I watch Amira as she slumbers, unable to get enough of her. Looking at her, touching her, owning her—none of it is ever enough. Any taste or glimpse or even indulgence of her I get makes me want more. It’s like there’s a living, raging beast living within me, who’s overwhelming demand is to somehow attach myself to Amira in a permanent way so she’s never out of sight, never at risk, and always available for me.
Sometimes, it pisses me off that Amira doesn’t seem to need me as much as I need her. To me, she’s a fundamental need—like food, water, and shelter. I don’t think it’s the same the other way around. I couldn’t survive without Amira, while I know she doesn’t need anyone but herself to survive or even thrive. The month after she was marked,
