Chapter 114 – Shielded by His Touch
My face burned with embarrassment as Damien carried me toward his car. Cherry’s wide–eyed stare and Mr. Vance’s stunned expression only made it worse. What on earth was Damien thinking, kissing my forehead like that in front of my colleagues?
“I can walk,” I whispered urgently, though we both knew it was a lie.
“No, you can’t,” Damien replied, his voice brooking no argument. His arms held me securely against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat oddly calming despite my mortification.
Mr. Vance stepped forward, clearing his throat. “Sir, if you’d like some help-”
“I’ve got her,” Damien cut him off, his tone polite but dismissive.
I caught the subtle display of territoriality in his voice and wanted to sink through the floor. Cherry was practically vibrating with curiosity beside us, and I knew office gossip would be rampant by Monday morning.
mien nodded curtly to them both. “Thank you for looking after her. I’ll take it from
here”
As we reached his car, his driver rushed to open the door. With surprising gentleness, Damien lowered me into the plush leather seat, careful not to jostle my injured knee.
“Your bag?” he asked, straightening up.
“Cherry has it, I mumbled, still unable to meet his eyes.
A moment later, he slid into the seat beside me, my overnight bag placed in the front passenger seat. The car pulled away from the lodge, and I finally released the breath I’d been holding.
“You didn’t have to come all this way,” I said, staring out the window at the darkened.
trees.
“Yes, I did.” His hand moved to my knee, hovering just above the makeshift bandage. “Let me see.”
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Before I could protest, he’d carefully unwrapped the outer layer. His sharp intake of breath told me what I already knew it looked bad.
“Why didn’t you tell me how serious this is?” His voice was tight with anger.
“It’s just a sprain-”
“This is more than a sprain, Hazel.” Ills fingers ghosted over the swollen, purpling skin. “How did this happen?”
I explained about the hiking accident, Cherry’s near–fall, and my instinctive lunge to save her.
“Always putting others before yourself,” he muttered, carefully rewrapping the bandage.
“I couldn’t just let her fall,” I defended.
“I’m not criticizing your heroism.” His eyes softened slightly. “But you medical attention.
need
proper
“I was going to go to urgent care when we got back tomorrow-
“We’re going now,” he interrupted, pulling out his phone.
I watched as he made a series of calls, his authoritative tone arranging everything from
a medical team to be waiting at what was apparently the city’s most exclusive private hospital to clearing their schedule for my arrival.
“Damien, this is excessive,” I protested weakly. “I don’t need special treatment.”
He put his phone away and fixed me with a look that made my heart skip. “Yes, you Always.”
- do.
The rest of the journey passed in relative silence. I tried to stay awake, but the combination of pain medication, exhaustion, and the smooth motion of the car lulled me into a half–sleep. I was vaguely aware of Damien’s hand resting lightly over mine, his thumb occasionally stroking my skin in a gesture so tender it made my chest ache.
When we arrived at the hospital, I blinked awake to find Damien already out of the car and coming around to my side.
“I can walk with help,” I insisted, trying to preserve some dignity.
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He simply gave me a look that said he wasn’t buying it. “This is the second time I’ve had to carry you somewhere,” he remarked as he lifted me again, this time with even more care. “Though you were considerably more talkative when you were drunk.”
I froze in his arms. “What? When did you
“Later,” he said with the ghost of a smile. “Let’s fix your knee first.”
A team of medical professionals greeted us as we entered through what appeared to be a private entrance. I was immediately whisked away for X–rays and an MRI, Damien insisting on staying nearby the entire time.
The doctor, a distinguished–looking woman in her fifties, reviewed the results with a serious expression. “You’ve got a partial tear of the MCI, and significant soft tissue damage” she explained. “Fortunately, no fractures, but you’ll need intensive treatment and at least three weeks of rest before you can put weight on it.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “Three weeks? I can’t–I have work, presentations-”
“You’ll work from home,” Damien said definitively.
I turned to argue with him, but the doctor continued. “I recommend we start with anti–inflammatory medication, physical therapy, and a course of acupuncture to help with the pain and promote healing.”
“Acupuncture?” I repeated, my voice rising slightly. “As in… needles?”
The doctor nodded. “It’s quite effective for this type of injury. We can begin immediately.”
My heart started racing. Ever since childhood, I’d had a crippling fear of needles. Even blood draws left me trembling and nauseated.
“Is there an alternative?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
Damien’s gaze sharpened on my face. “You’re afraid of needles.”
It wasn’t a question, and I didn’t bother denying it. “Severely.”
The doctor looked between ps. “We can try other approac significantly speed recovery.
“Then we’ll do it,” Damien decided.
but acupuncture would
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“Damien!” I protested.
He leaned closer, his voice dropping so only I could hear. “T’ll be right there with you.
Trust me.”
Something in his eyes made the knot of fear in my chest loosen just slightly. I found myself nodding, though my hands were already starting to shake.
They prepared a treatment room with a comfortable bed. The acupuncturist, an older man with kind eyes, explained the procedure while I sat rigid with terror. When he produced the first needle, I felt lightheaded.
“I can’t,” I whispered, panic rising. “I can’t do this.”
Suddenly, Damien was there. Without a word, he slid onto the bed behind me, his long legs bracketing mine, his chest warm against my back. He pulled me gently against him and covered my eyes with one hand.
“You won’t see a thing,” he murmured, his lips close to my ear. “Just focus on me.”
His other arm wrapped around my waist, holding me securely. I was enveloped in his warmth, his familiar scent grounding me as the acupuncturist began.
I flinched at the first sensation, but Damien’s hold tightened slightly.
“Tell me about your first design,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “The one that made you realize this was your calling.
I latched onto the distraction, describing a dress I’d created at sixteen from scraps of fabric I’d salvaged. As I spoke, I became less aware of the needles being placed in strategic points around my knee and calf.
Damien asked more questions, keeping me talking about fashion, my inspirations, my dreams for future collections. His thumb traced small circles against my hip, a hypnotic rhythm that calmed my racing heart.
I don’t know how much time passed, lost in conversation and the cocoon of Damien’s embrace. Eventually, I relaxed completely against him, my head resting on his
shoulder, his hand no longer needed to shield my
eyes
h it remained there, a
gentle pressure that felt like protection.
my
hair. I remained still, oddly reluctant to break the intimate moment.
When the acupuncturist finished, Damien’s hand finally moved from my eyes to stroke
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“The needing is done: Damien said softly, his breath warm against my temple. “You beed to rest for a while
I nodded, feeling strangely content despite the pain and exhaustion, shielded from the world in the circle of his arms
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