Damien had slept in for the first time in several months. When Rachel had awoken, quite hungover and full of regret, Damien wasted no time in rubbing it in. She curled up against him and he laughed, well over the evening already, though he had requested she not do that again so soon. He made her an egg and cheese sandwich - the eggs being one of the only human foods he remembered how to make from being human himself - and brought her breakfast in bed. When she left, he had gone back to sleep after seeing her off with a lingering kiss.
He slept solidly, pulling in her pillows that smelled like her hair, dreaming of making love to her in a field in the setting sunlight. He awoke to Delilah climbing into the bed and putting her nose in his face with a huff. Damien threw an arm around the dog and held her close, kissing her playfully on her snout as she tried to bite him. Once or twice, Delilah's teeth stuck painfully into the crevices of his face, the crook of his eye, the corner of his lip. At three in the afternoon, the pair rose and Damien readied himself for the night.
After showering, changing over the laundry, and carefully letting Delilah out into the sunlit yard, Damien checked his phone. No call from Rachel. He tried not to let such things frighten him - she was human and she needed to be out during the day, doing her own things - but the familiar anxiety weighed on his shoulders and ate at his stomach despite his best efforts to push them away. He rationalized them as best he could - no call meant she was busy, meant she was enjoying herself, she was in a store or a library, finding friends. It was highly unlikely that she had been captured, that Greg had been killed or captured. For the umpteenth time, Damien put his phone away in his back pocket to avoid sending Rachel a text.
By the time night had fallen and Damien had left for the White Rabbit, there still was no text from Rachel. He slid into the driver's seat of his Lexus and sent her a message.
I hope your day is going well.
There was a temptation to write "I love you" as well, but Damien, feeling very bashful that he had such a thought, ignored it. There was no way he could send something like that to her. She was human and had a whole life to live away from vampires and immortals and demons. A hard, sad thought, yes, but a decision he had made a while ago. She was human and her humanity had been taken from her. Unlike with immortals, Rachel had the chance to grow old, have a family, a future, whatever she wanted. He had promised himself that once Laurent had died, she would be free again to live wherever she wanted. They were destined to be temporary and therefore love was not in the plans.
He pressed send and drove towards the White Rabbit.
Damien found parking in a lot around the block and walked at a slow pace to the front steps of the Rabbit. He took no notice of the other cars around, too focused on closing off his thoughts and walling himself away from the throngs of humans who would be doing only God knew what in the club.
"I'm looking for Jake," he said to the bartender who he believed was named Manuel, having seen him only once before. The man threw a thumb towards one of the booths and Damien swivelled in time to see Jake looking up with an easy smirk on his face. Damien approached cautiously, knowing that he may have had another meeting scheduled and not wishing to break Jake's concentration. But as he came closer, the woman with whom Jake was talking became familiar and Damien's eyes widened with surprise, his eyebrows pulled upwards in a very uncharacteristically open expression.
"Hey, you! What are you doing here?" There was a wide smile on his face as he looked down at his Rachel, all his former worry fading away instantly. If Jake weren't right there, he may have even laughed. Rachel had that effect on him.
