“No. Just Christmas decorations. Just people living their lives.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Good.”
We don’t say anything for a long time. Then Julian whispers, “I’m so happy you’re okay, Celine. God. I can’t even…” He shudders. “And Damian–he’s different. You’ve changed him. I’ve never seen like he is with you, caring and loving and… like he wants to participate in life instead of just watch it go by.”
Sparkles shimmer inside of me, but I don’t let myself get overexcited. This is very different from an approval.
“I’m going to lie down here,” I whisper. “If you don’t mind?”
He turns, smiles tightly at me. “I love you, Celine.”
“I love you too.”
I lie down, knees to my chest as though to protect myself. I don’t mean to fall asleep when I close my eyes. I drift in and out, vaguely aware of Julian kissing me on the forehead and telling me he loves me again.
When I wake up, it’s still nighttime, the room dark except for a single lamp making the snow globes and the decorations glimmer. I sit up, rubbing sleep from my eyes.
Damian now sits at the window, hunched over in his tank top, his back muscles bulging and thick. He looks at me, his mouthtight, his eyes widening and flitting to my thighs as if he can’t help himself. He swallows and turns back to the window.
“You can go back to sleep,” he says softly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I sit up, adjusting the robe. “Any sign of them?” I ask.
“No,” he says huskily. “If there was, we wouldn’t be talking.”
“Thank you, Damian.”
“Thank you?” he repeats, looking at me strangely. “You don’t need to thank me for what we did.”
“You could’ve gotten hurt.”
“I would’ve died if it meant getting you out of there. I’m just glad we got to you before they could…” He clenches his fists, breathing raggedly through tight clenched teeth. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if they’d touched you.”
I remember what he called me when he killed that man.
Hiswoman.
“Getting into the Christmas spirit yet?” I ask, trying to make my tone jokey. It comes out dark instead.
He grunts out a laugh. “I’m this close to singing a carol.” He gestures with his fingers.
I smile somehow. It’s a miracle. He seems to me to be smiling, and his lips twitch too.
I stand, go to him, and slip into his lap. He lets out a sigh and wraps his arms around me, but his eyes never leave the window,the street. He smooths his hand over my leg, but somehow, it’s not sexual.
I can feel his hardness, but he doesn’t take it there. It’s like he simply can’t help what his body does when I’m around.
“I thought I was going to grow your heart, you know, Grinch-style, when this started. But I think I’ve just made Christmas even worse for you.”
“You’re wrong,” he whispers huskily, his breath shivering over my neck and sneaking into the robe, dancing temptingly over my body. “You’ve shown me something else, something damn miraculous, Celine.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“You’ve shown me that even when things get dark and evil, there’s hope. There’s light. You’ve shown me we can make an effort even when it seems futile. You’ve shown me that maybe I don’t have to accept…”
“Accept what?” I whisper, taking his face in my hands.
He looks up at me with something devastating in his expression. I know he’s thinking we should stop. We shouldn’t touch like this, not with Julian sleeping upstairs, when there’s still so much that could go wrong.
