It’s the “please” that does me in.
I nod. “Okay. But if you have nightmares, you’re allowed to climb into my bed too.”
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Go to bed, Lark.”
I back toward the hallway, mouth tingling, heart pounding. At the doorway, I pause. “Knight?”
“Yeah?”
“That thing you said earlier,” I say. “About not letting anything happen to me?”
His gaze locks on mine.
“I believe you,” I say.
His jaw works. “Good,” he replies. “Because I meant it.”
I smile. Then I slip back into the bedroom, close the door softly, and crawl into bed.
Sleep finds me quicker this time.
But before it does, one thought curls warm and fierce in my chest:
He’s not just the predator anymore.
He’s mine.
And God help anyone who tries to take him away.
NINE
STIR-CRAZY AND OTHER UNDERSTATEMENTS
KNIGHT
The first thing I register when I wake up is pain.
My spine protests the couch like it personally wronged me in a past life. There’s a spring lodged somewhere under my left shoulder blade, my neck is kinked at a question mark angle, and my right foot is half-asleep, toes tingling.
The second thing I register is the silence.
No traffic. No sirens. No neighbors yelling. Just trees breathing and the faint tick of the old fridge.
And under that, softer, from down the short hallway?—
The slow, steady sound of Lark’s breathing.
I let my eyes stay closed for another second.
Last night hits me in disjointed flashes:
Her bare feet on the floor.
Her big eyes in the dim lamplight.
Her voice, soft and raw, sayingI trust you with my heart.
The way her mouth felt under mine.
