“Yes. I’m not like you and your friends.” Scowling, I wipe away a tear that spills over my lashes. I should shut up. If I don’t, it’ll all spill out.
He’s silent, but he doesn’t move away. Or let me.
“Someone sent me a fucking bomb. It blew up. You bled so much. I was afraid you might bleed out right in front of me. You act like it’s no big deal. And instead of trying to get away from Casanova, you seem to be hunting him. I thought you weren’t doing violent things anymore? You lied about that, didn’t you?” I hold my breath.
There’s no hesitation. “No. You asked if I was for hire. I’m not.”
“A lie of omission then. Because your search for Casanova isn’t for your newspaper stories, is it?”
His voice is low when he answers. “Someone has to stop him, Arya.”
“I know, but why you? And why do I have to get caught up in it?” I bite down on my lip hard, trying to not make a sound as I start to cry. “Things keep getting worse. Mutilated dogs? Did you really have to say that in front of me? And even when you realized I was upset, you just left me alone. When you were bleeding, I didn’t leave you. I made sure you were all right. But that’s always how it goes. I take care of everyone else until I’m too exhausted to think straight.” I cover my eyes, so I can cry in private. “All I’m saying is… I get that you don’t really give a shit about my mental health, but could you at least not make things worse for me?”
“Hey,” he whispers. “I didn’t know. It will not happen again.”
“It’s fine,” I say, even though I know I’m still not okay. I can’t fucking sleep. And the clock’s ticking. I need to perform at the highest level soon. Right now, it seems as if there’s no way I’ll be able to.
“Reynolds and Avery were staying. I thought if I tried to prevent your attendance at the meeting, you’d feel slighted or excluded. I didn’t want that.”
I exhale, the tension in my shoulders easing. The fact that he let me stay out of good intentions is unexpected. And more welcome than I can say.
“If you warn me, Arya, mistakes won’t be made. Tell me your triggers.”
“I don’t have triggers,” I say too quickly. As I rub away my tears, I murmur, “I’m just overtired.”
“I think you’re overtired because you have triggers.”
Sucking on my lower lip, I shake my head. “I can’t talk right now. I’m exhausted.”
“All right. Lie on your side, facing away from me.”
I roll onto my side, and he spoons me, putting his heavy left arm around me.
“Do you speak Danish?”
“No.”
“Me either, really,” he deadpans, causing a weak smile from me that he can’t see. He shifts to get his tablet from the nightstand.
Erik’s body presses against mine, and above my head, in a low voice, he begins to read in the language I don’t understand.
It’s soothing, and I concentrate on his deep voice. It’s a soft rumble in my ears. I do love that voice. I concentrate, too, on the sounds he makes, even his breathing, until everything else starts to fall away.
“What’s happening in the story?” I whisper after a while, drifting my way toward sleep.
“There’s a beautiful dark-haired girl. She’s lost in the woods. The spirit of the forest guides a hunter to her.”
“What does the hunter look like?”
“Big. Blond. Bearded.”
“Mmm. What else?” Warmth floods my body.
“He takes her home. She tells him she can’t sleep, and he says, ‘Lie down. I’ll tell you a story.’”
A soft chuckle escapes as I press my shoulders back against his chest. “Is her name Gretel? It’s a horror story, right? His mom is a witch?” I say dryly.
“No. Be quiet and listen,” he orders in a whisper.
