But my eyes close anyway.
And somewhere between his even steps and the warmth of his arms, sleep takes me.
Chapter 35
Octavia
I am woken by heavy breathing.
It takes me a moment to place where I am, to orient myself in the dark, my hand moving instinctively towards the blade on the nightstand before I stop short.
I take in my surroundings properly then, my gaze adjusting as I look around the room in the chalet.
It is dark, save for the bathroom door left ajar, a thin strip of light slipping through and spilling across the floor.
My brows furrow in confusion, because the last thing I remember, we were outside, and I had just been attacked once more.
A movement catches my eye, and my gaze snaps in that direction.
Markev is standing by the window.
Only his profile is visible, he is wearing nothing but his boxers, moonlight falling over his face.
His eyes are dark, but not in the murderous way. This darkness is different… distant, as though he is somewhere else entirely, caught inside his own head, lost to thoughts or memories.
My throat tightens, because I know this look… I know this state.
I recognise it all too well.
Swallowing becomes difficult. My eyes begin to burn, and it irritates me how fast the feeling hits.
I stay still, barely breathing.
“Markev,” I whisper.
Nothing.
It is like I never spoke at all. He doesn’t even flinch.
I don’t know what helps when someone is in this state, because when I have these episodes, I am alone. I come out of it eventually, but I have no idea how.
I know that sometimes touch can either help or make everything worse, and for reasons I choose not to dwell on, I don’t want to risk hurting him.
Which is ironic, considering I have stabbed the man more than once since the moment I met him.
“Hey,” I say quietly. “Markev. You need to snap out of it.”
He doesn’t respond, still staring out of the window.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, slipping out of the bed and taking a step closer.
I grimace the moment I realise I am still wearing the dress from our night out, and at the same time feel an unexpected surge of gratitude that he respected my boundaries and didn’t remove it while I was sleeping.
Fuck.
Swallowing is difficult again. I shouldn’t react like this.
This is the bare minimum a man should do. And yet the uncomfortable truth is that many don’t.
