–Livana–
Damon always had those dangerous, godlike features—chiseled jawline, the kind of face sculptors would bleed for. Handsome. Seductive. Irresistible, they say. And I must admit, even that first night with him? He was magnificent. Not just in bed—but in the way he handled me. As if I were glass. As if I were a storm. He didn't flinch, even when I was drugged with aphrodisiac poison meant to make me crumble. Instead, he made me feel safe. Worshiped. Owned.
I haven't seen my own face in what feels like years. Not truly. Not in the way others do. I don't know if my skin has turned sallow, or if my lips have lost their color. I wonder if I look hollow—gaunt. Maybe I do. I haven't taken care of myself that way, not since my vision faded.
But Damon?
