“It’s more than that and you know it.” His thumb stroked across my pulse point, and I wondered if he could feel how fast my heart was beating. “Goodnight, Riley.”
“Goodnight, Caelan.”
He released my wrist and lay back, his long body barely fitting on my couch, feet hanging off the end, and let his eyes close.
I watched him for a moment longer than I should. His face relaxed in sleep, his chest rising and falling. Surrounded by my candles, in my space, he looked like he belonged there.
I pulled a blanket over him, careful not to wake him.
“Goodnight,” I whispered again.
He didn’t respond, he was already asleep. But even unconscious he looked content, peaceful, like my couch, my blanket, my space was exactly where he wanted to be.
I retreated to my bedroom, closed the door, and lay in the dark, listening to the storm.
He was here. In my apartment. Sleeping on my couch.
I could hear him breathing through the thin walls, and I fought the urge to go back out there, crawl into his arms, press my face against his chest and fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.
I wanted to kiss him so bad. Had wanted to kiss him for days. Weeks, if I was being honest, since the moment he walked into my book signing. But I was scared of what he made me feel. Of how much I wanted this and how badly it would hurt if it all fell apart.
Damien had seemed perfect too, at first. Charming, attentive. Like a dream come true. And then the dream became a nightmare.
But Caelan wasn’t Damien. I knew that, felt it in my bones. The way he looked at me wasn’t possession, it was wonder, like I was a gift he couldn’t believe he’d been given. And maybe that was scarier. Because possession I understood, I could fight against that, had learned to recognize the signs.
But wonder? Genuine, awestruck, I-can’t-believe-you’re-real wonder?
I had no defenses against that.
11
— • —
Caelan
I didn’t actually sleep.
I lay on Riley’s couch, eyes closed, pretending to rest while my wolf prowled restlessly beneath my skin. She was so close. Just through that door. In herbed.
I could hear her heartbeat through the wall. Steady now, slower than before, the rhythm of someone drifting toward dreams.
The apartment was dark except for the dying glow of candles. The storm had softened to a steady rain, pattering against the windows. Everything around me was hers. I’d never been so comfortable and so on edge at the same time.
Hours passed. I tracked them by the burning down of candles, the shifting of shadows. The rain continued its steady rhythm against the glass, and somewhere in the building, a pipegroaned. My wolf wouldn’t settle, wouldn’t stop pacing and let me truly rest when she was so close.Not close enough.
Around 3 AM, Riley’s heartbeat changed. It became faster, irregular, her breathing catching. I sat up. Through the wall, I heard a whimper. A soft cry, then movement, sheets rustling, someone thrashing.
I was off the couch and at her door before I made a conscious decision. My hand hovered over the handle. I shouldn’t go in. This was her bedroom.Friendsdidn’t just barge into bedrooms in the middle of the night.
She cried out again, louder this time, distressed. I opened the door immediately.
The room was lit only by the gray glow of a dying candle on her nightstand. I didn’t need light to see her, though. My wolf eyes adjusted instantly, and what I saw made my blood run cold.
Riley was tangled in her sheets, face twisted, tears tracking down her cheeks. She was caught in a nightmare, her body fighting an invisible threat. Her hands clawed at the air, pushing away enemies I couldn’t see. Her legs kicked, trapped in the cotton that had wound around her like a shroud.
Her lips were moving, the same words over and over, barely audible.
“Please. Stop. Please don’t...”
