And the endless, stretching dark.
Chapter 14
Bree
I wake to the feeling of being watched.
My eyes snap open, and I freeze.
He’s here.
Sitting in one of the chairs near the couch, perfectly still, watching me.
I scramble backward instinctively, pushing myself up against the wall, heart slamming in my chest.
“Easy,” he says softly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
His voice is the same—velvet and smoke, patient and absolute. But seeing him—
Actually seeing him—
My breath catches.
He’s beautiful.
The thought hits before I can stop it, and I hate myself for it immediately.
But I can’t look away.
Sharp jawline. High cheekbones. Full lips that curve slightly like he knows a secret I don’t. Dark hair falls across his forehead in a way that looks deliberately tousled—like he just ran his hands through it.
And his eyes.
Forest green. Deep enough to drown in. They hold me in place even though every instinct screams to run.
He looks human. Elegant. Refined.
Devastatingly beautiful in a way that feels designed to disarm.
And I realize with a sick twist in my stomach: this is the real mask.
The voice, the darkness, the seduction—those were preparation. But this? His face? This is the weapon he uses when he wants someone to stop fighting.
Our eyes meet—really meet—for the first time, and something shifts in his expression.
Warmth. Recognition. Like he’s been waiting for this moment.
“There you are,” he says softly. “I was beginning to wonder when you’d wake.”
I press harder against the wall, trying to put distance between us even though there’s nowhere to go.
He doesn’t move. Just watches me with those green eyes, patient and still.
“How long—” My voice comes out rough. I swallow and try again. “How long was I asleep?”
“Does it matter?” He tilts his head slightly. “Time doesn’t work the same here. You could have slept for minutes or days. There’s no way to know.”
The casual cruelty of it lands like a blow.
