Verena's POV

When we arrived at his house, Damon didn't even acknowledge my presence. Damien tip that when he needs to feed he has his episodes of mood swings.

When I entered his room. He stood in front of the vanity, wearing only unbuttoned breeches that hung low on his hips, grasping the rim of the sink with white-knuckled fingers. He dragged a damp towel across his bloodied chest, his teeth bared as he hissed in a pained breath. The wounds would’ve been fatal for a mortal, significant and shocking. And the fact that he seemed unaware of my presence told me exactly how weakened he was. For a moment,...