And when I got through and found her, every muscle in her body was rigid, all of her focus on the man on the ground, groaning in pain and gripping his stomach to staunch the blood flow. But even with him incapacitated, she was riddled with terror, all the color drained from her face, tears pooling in her eyes, hands trembling as they gripped the pistol.
She couldn't even hear me saying her name the first few times, too focused on making sure the threat of that man didn't rear its head again.
When her eyes finally found lucidity, and she looked at me, there wasn't a doubt in my mind about what needed to be done.
“And let's be crystal clear," I squeeze her hand in mine, making sure she’s wholly focused on me. "Ikilled him.Me.And I wish I hadn't, just so I could do it slowly and give him every bit of suffering he really deserved. His death is onmyhands. You don't get to feel responsible for it."
"I shot him first," she argues.
"You shot for self defense, I shot because Iwantedto.” The confession sits heavy on my heart, but it’s the truth. “Because Ineededhim to pay for causing you such terror.”
For either a minute or possibly even ten, she doesn’t say anything, soaking in the dark admission I’ve just made. For a second, I wonder if maybe shehasfallen asleep.
"It's too quiet," her small, wavering voice finally pleads. "Can we... I don't know, go watch TV or something?"
I cringe at the question I'm about to ask, feeling as if I'm assuming something I shouldn't. But she just rode my fucking thigh to orgasm, and her shaking hand is desperately clinging to mine, so maybe it's not that unimaginable.
"Do you want to watch it downstairs? Or I have one over in my room?"
She looks at me from the corner of her eye, playful suspicion finally bringing a little light to her face. "Are you trying to get me into bed, Mr. Fomori?"
A brief chuckle escapes my chest, "Technically, you're already in one of my beds, Miss Danaan. But like I said, I'm pretty sure you're about to hit a wall and crash, and I'd rather you do that in a bed than on the couch that's hardly been sat on and I can guarantee is not as comfortable."
"There's no way I'm gonna crash," she insists. "I can still feel the fear crawling under my skin, the unspent energy from the adrenaline."
I can think of a few more ways I can spend your energy.
"Well, humor me," I sit and stand, pulling her to her feet with me. "If it helps, I can put up a little pillow barrier between us."
She smirks, looking at the floor, "Barriers haven't stopped you from getting to me before."
"Oh, no, the barrier is to keepyouoff ofme,Bunny," I tease. "You've gotten pretty handsy tonight." I hold up our entwined hands as proof, doinganythingjust to pull another smile from her face.
Her lips twitch, but the only proof of her finding humor in me is the glimmer in her eyes.
"We can watch up here," she acquiesces.
The walk back to my own room is quick, but every step closer feels like time is slowing. Having Brigit in the bed where I sleep, where I've dreamed of her almost every night since we met, has mefeeling equally feral and terrified. I've seen the proof of who she is along the walls and shelving in her apartment.
And now she'll have an opportunity to do the same, but the difference is that my home is empty. Devoid of all connections to the human world. Whether it was always like that, or if everything important was destroyed, I still can't quite say.
The flicking of the light switch echoes across the house.
Maybe it doesn't, and it's just the finality of it echoing through my head.
The deep blue bed seems infinitely smaller than it did this morning when I climbed out of it.
Suddenly, there aren't enough pillows or a cozy enough comforter. The rug peeking out from beneath it, the butter-soft navy and gray, looks unwelcoming and cold.
But she slips her shoes off at the door anyway, releasing my hand to do so. Her feet sink into the rug, pulling out a sigh of contentment.
Looking over her shoulder at me, she raises a curious brow, "Are you okay?"
With a nod, I finally shake myself out of being frozen at the threshold, stepping further from her towards my dresser and the remote waiting there.
The rustling of sheets behind me makes my skin heat.
She's in my bed.
