Her body gave a violent shudder. Nails dug into my arm, where she clung onto me. I didn’t give a fuck. She could slice me open all she wanted if it stopped her pain.
I gently pried her head away from my shoulder.
‘Look at me.’ My voice was soft but firm. Cupping her cheeks, I watched as she kept her eyes screwed shut.
Tears splashed down her cheeks. After a minute, she blinked her eyes open. When nothing but shadows met her, I saw panic rise in her eyes once more.
‘Hey, look at me and take a deep breath.’ I squeezed her cheeks, gripping it tight enough that she couldn’t turn her head away.
Moving my other hand to her back, I pushed past the initial thoughts creeping into my head of her in this position. My dick might be enjoying her warmth on me, but I ignored the appendage as it twitched in pleasure.
Pressing her to me so her stomach was against me, ourforeheads nearly touching, I took a dramatic breath. ‘Come on, Pooh, breathe with me.’
The nickname she professed to hate softened the tension in her shoulders slightly.
Blinking away the tears, she hiccuped and followed my breathing. Still clinging to my shirt, the material bunching under her death-like grip.
We repeated the motions until her breathing evened out, and I was satisfied that she wouldn’t hyperventilate. I peeled a piece of wet hair off her cheek and tucked it around her ear.
‘There you go,’ I whispered.
‘I-I’m s-sorry,’ she hiccuped. In the faint light, I could see her eyes still swimming with tears. Her fear might not be at the level of panic anymore, but I knew it wouldn’t take much to get her there, so I kept one hand against her back, the other at her cheek, my thumb stroking her cheek.
‘Is it the dark?’ I asked.
More tears spilt over as she nodded frantically.
‘I know it’s ridiculous. I’m so sorry.’ She tried to calm her breathing again, hanging her head. Like this was something she needed to be ashamed of.
‘No. Don’t fucking apologise.’ The vehemence in my tone made her head snap up. ‘It’s not stupid. I told you before you’re allowed to feel whatever you feel. Even if you think it doesn’t make sense.’
She tried to take a deep breath, ‘I-I usually have things nearby—torches and candles and stuff. I just wasn’t expecting it.’ She sniffed, shaking her head at herself.
‘Where are your extra bulbs?’ I asked.
She turned to look behind her, when nothing but shadowy darkness met her, her breathing hitched.
I gripped the back of her neck and pulled her forehead to mine—our faces only centimetres apart.
‘Tell me where they are, don’t look,’ I said.
‘I-in the c-cabinet against the wall. There’s one in every draw.’ She breathed against my lips.
‘Okay.’ In one quick move, I placed her on her back and grabbed a blanket from the back of the sofa, laying it over her curled-up frame. ’Stay here and close your eyes until I’ve fixed it, okay?’
She stared up at me with round, wild eyes. I pressed our foreheads together, partly to reassure her and partly because I wanted to stay close to her. Only when she nodded and tucked the blanket up to her chin, eyes falling shut, did I pull away.
I rummaged around the drawers of the cabinet, and sure enough, several light bulbs of all shapes and sizes were tucked in there, along with matches and candles—glow sticks and torches with various batteries filled most of the drawers. I plucked one of the bulbs out and got to work.
Standing on the coffee table, I changed the bulbs over. Soft yellow light illuminated the flat in a few seconds.
‘Fixed.’ I declared.
My pronouncement didn’t make Fallon pull the blanket down. Her eyes remained firmly screwed shut.
I hopped off the coffee table and sat on the edge of the sofa.
‘You can come out now. I’m not God—even though I feel like him sometimes—but let there be light!’ I spoke in a dramatic tone that pulled the tiniest giggle from her.
