Except as I change into the silk nightgown Remus ordered for me before he disappeared into his brother, I find my mind spinning with thoughts of him anyway.
The fabric whispers against my skin as I pull it on—emerald green silk that pools around my thighs, barely reaching mid-thigh. Thin straps. A neckline that dips low.
What am I really even doing here?
I’ve started wondering if what I thought I shared with Remus was even real. I felt so invested in it, in him, that I’ve fought tooth and nail to stay. But after not being able to talk to him all day—each hour feeling like a week, time stretching endlessly—it’s way too easy to question everything. All of it.
And as lovely as his family is...
Maybe I don’t belong here. This has been a fairytale dream, hasn’t it? Maybe I’ve fought to stay because I don’t want to goback to my real life—back to my shitty apartment and dead-end job and the wreckage Michael left behind.
That’s not very lovely if it’s true. I don’t want to be the person who runs from her problems.
I always want to be the person who runs toward life, not away from it. I thought that was what I was doing here.
A sharp knock on my door startles me from my spiraling thoughts.
I wonder if it’s Hannah stopping by to say goodnight. The sumptuous Persian rug is soft underfoot as I pad to the door, the brass doorknob cool in my hand as I turn it and pull the heavy wooden door open.
“Oh.” I gasp a little in surprise when I see Romulus’s hulking form filling the dimly lit hallway instead—all wings and muscles and barely controlled tension. “It’s you.”
“Who were you expecting?” His voice is rough. Then he waves a hand, his eyes seeming to darken as they flick over me. “Never mind. I just wanted to check that you have everything you need before I retire to my rooms for the evening.”
I can’t help leaning against the doorjamb and arching an eyebrow at him. “I thought I was in your rooms.”
He swallows hard, his throat working. His eyes travel down to my neck—lingering on my collarbone, the swell of my breasts barely contained by silk—before he jerks them upward as if physically forcing himself not to check me out in my slinky nightgown.
I feel confused by my disappointment that he didn’t look longer. I’m here for Remus... Aren’t I?
“I don’t sleep,” he says, voice strained. “I spend the nights reading in the den.” He gestures with his head further down the hall, where warm light spills from beneath a door.
Ah. Of course. He only sleeps when Remus is awake. Which, again, makes me suddenly long for the wild, reckless man I first met. The one who made me feel alive and wanted and brave.
While Romulus stands there rigidly in front of me, I rush around to the back of him on impulse.
When he starts to turn around to ask, “What are you—?” I put out a hand on his shoulder to still him—feeling the heat of his skin through the thin sleep shirt he’s wearing.
Instead of answering, I lift my hand up to Remus’s sleeping face on the back of his head.
I breathe in shakily, feeling a sharp dart of pain in my chest right along my sternum as I caress down his cheek. His skin is warm, slightly rough with stubble. I run my thumb along his bottom lip, remembering how that mouth felt on mine.
“I miss you,” I whisper into the dim hallway.
There are only a few iron sconces lit along the stone wall at uneven intervals, casting flickering shadows. So when Remus’s eyelids flutter, at first I’m not sure if it’s just a trick of the lights.
And then their tail comes alive—wrapping firmly around my waist several times, pulling me closer against Romulus’s back.
“What’s happening?” Romulus asks, alarm in his voice. “That wasn’t me.”
“Remus?” I ask breathlessly, reaching up on tiptoes to excitedly kiss his sleeping lips. They’re warm and soft and so familiar. “Remus?”
But when I pull back, he sleeps on, face peaceful. The tail around my waist goes slack, unwinding, and my heart drops to my feet like a stone.
I sigh heavily and walk back toward my door, defeat settling over my shoulders.
Which is when I happen to glance down and see that—whoa, damn.
Romulus is wearing thin cotton pajama bottoms that do absolutely nothing to hide the massive erection jutting out, tenting the fabric obscenely.
