“To the contrary, I’ve found plenty of tips in human anatomy and survival in cold temperatures, including how to make rope from spruce tree roots,” I retort, forcing my eyes back down to my notebook. I notice his feet are on either side of my chair, and I have to ignore the pulse of desire that spreads through me as I realize how tall he truly is.
He lifts a brow and grins, but doesn’t bother saying much else while I continue reading. Cameron eventually gets bored enough to grab one of the books from my unread pile and starts flipping through it. I flinch when he tears out a page and adds it to his collection.
Curiosity gets the best of me and I glance up to see what has him so enthralled he finds it necessary to tear out pages.
It’s an art book that I picked up purely for the reason that the depictions within made me think back to my own creations. Granted, there aren’t any images of dead, cut-up people in there, positioned grimly, but the matter is still dark. The people are painted in odd positions with sad, longing expressions. Craving happiness and freedom, I interpret.Why would he pick this?
“What are you doing?”
Cameron doesn’t bother looking up at me as he arranges the loose pages the way he wants before closing the book. I only caught a glimpse of one other page, a newspaper clipping with an image I recognized as one of my crime scenes in Seattle. There’s something so satisfying in knowing that he chases my story but doesn’t realize that I’m sitting across from him.
“I doubt you could appreciate the dark arts the way I do,” he mumbles arrogantly as he continues to flip through the library book, looking for more things to collect.
I smile to myself and return to reading. We go on like this until half an hour before lights-out comes around.
After I shower and braid my hair, I follow Cameron back to our bed. He’s made it a habit to even stand nearby in the showers, leaning against the tiled walls with his head looking the other way. Does he really think someone will try something in theshowers?
If there’s anything I’ve learned about Cameron, it’s that he is the most patient man I’ve ever met. And that can be a very dangerous trait to have.
“You don’t have to stick to my side like glue, you know. I can take care of myself,” I whisper as I lie down beside him.
Cameron doesn’t respond for a few minutes. Once the lights go out and the vast room falls silent with the exception of the distant moans, he finally murmurs, “I know you think that.”
Anger seeps into my veins. I try elbowing his side, but he grabs my forearm, his palm hot against my skin.
“Why are you always trying to make me mad? Are you really that curious what it looks like for me to be pissed off?” he warns, lips brushing over my ear like fire.
My body stills. He chuckles at my hesitation, releasing my arm and laying his head back down.
I bite my lower lip and breathe in his birchy scent. “Why do you get up so early?” What could he possibly be doing at four a.m.?
Cameron takes a few breaths before replying, “The stimulants have always made sleep evade me. I barely get three hours most nights.”
I gawk.No wonder he always looks tired.“That’s awful.” I try to imagine what only three hours of sleep would be like for more than two days. He must be miserable.
Then a more concerning thought creeps into my head.What is he doing all night when I’m asleep?
He lets out a soft grunt. “It’s not so bad.”
“So you don’t creepily watch me sleep or anything, right?” I squirm until I’m facing him, chest to chest, hoping he can see the glare he’s receiving.
Cameron chuckles and flicks my forehead. “Don’t be so vain. You’re not as cute as you think you are.”
Okay. Ouch.
I blow out a breath and roll back the other way. Cameron doesn’t say any more either and lets the darkness soak up the silence between us.
As I listen to his even breaths, I decide that if I’m awake when he gets up in the morning, I’m going to trail him.
I wake up every hour, conscious that Cameron’s still beside me. After I’m certain it’s close to four a.m. I don’t bother falling back asleep. I stare into the darkness and go over the human body’s most vulnerable spots to keep my mind sharp. It’s hard to resist falling back asleep, but I keep my wits about me.
Cameron finally shifts behind me.
My eyes snap closed, even though I’m pretty sure he can’t see that I’m awake in the darkness. The bed dips as he gets up and heads to the bathroom.
I wait a few minutes before quietly getting up and throwing on my black hoodie. The dark isn’t as bad as it was the first night, at least I can make out the hard lines and shapes of things now. Memory serves me well in knowing how many paces it takes to reach the bathroom wall.
Water from the shower hisses and shuts off as I peek inside the bathroom. He’s in the stall closest to the entrance, and I can see him clear enough to make out his features.
