“Yeah. I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me, but I guess your brother beat me to it.” Nessa drummed her fingernails on the tabletop, blushing when Murphy raised a quizzical brow at the motion. Embarrassed, she dropped her hands. “Sorry. Nervous habit.”
“No need to apologize, Nes. I like all your habits,” he stated casually, completely unaware of how that one sentence affected her.
Gratitude took her in a chokehold. Her chest felt tight, her throat clogging with emotion as she fought back tears. She looked down at the table, blinking furiously to clear the moisture from her eyes.
“What about tomorrow makes you nervous?” Murphy asked softly.
“A few things,” Nessa croaked out, curling her hands into fists. Her nails dug into her palms, the slight pain helping her to focus. When she felt more in control of herself, she lifted her head. “I’m kind of afraid that Hunny and I won’t be able to pick up where we left off. I abandoned her for months.”
“Hunny doesn’t blame you for that,” Murphy assured her, reaching across the table, his palm facing up. Waiting for her to take his hand. She did, hers sliding into his and fitting perfectly. “Taking time to yourself to cope and heal from a traumatic experience isn’t wrong. She understands.”
“I know, I just …” Nessa sighed, lacing her fingers with his. His skin against hers felt nice, sparks racing from their joined hands and up her arm. “I wish I’d handled it better. But that’s not the only reason why I’m nervous.”
His thumb swept lazily over hers, and she released a small, pent-up breath. “What’s the other reason, Nes?”
“That’s where everything went down with Jason. Going back there, well, I’m worried that it will cause me to have an anxiety attack. They can get pretty bad sometimes,” she answered quietly. “Breathing exercises help, but I’ll feel like an idiot if I freak out in front of everyone.”
That was the last thing she wanted.
“Nessa. You shouldn’t feel ashamed of something you can’t control,” Murphy murmured softly, shaking his head when she didn’t respond. “Are they frequent? Your anxiety attacks?”
“Kind of. I was getting them fairly regularly until …” She trailed off, biting her lower lip.
“Until what?”
Nessa sent him a meaningful look, and his eyes softened. “Until we started spending more time together. You make me feel safe, Murphy. And your cologne—or scent, I guess—calms me down. Whatever anxiety I feel vanishes when I’m with you.”
Murphy’s fingers tightened on hers as he leaned over the table toward her. She leaned toward him too, needing to close the space between them. “Is that why you wanted me to come with you tomorrow? So you don’t have to worry?”
“Yeah.” Nessa shrugged, hoping to lighten the mood. “Besides, we’ve spent every day this week together. It would be a shame to break our hot streak.”
He arched a brow, reading her intention easily. It was bizarre how well he knew her after only a few days, but she loved it. “That’s true. I just made a punch card, and on our tenth day together, you get a free dinner.”
“Hopefully you’re not cooking it, or that won’t be the incentive you think it is,” she joked.
“No, but I’ll buy it.” Murphy grinned, and she wanted to bask in that expression, to reach out and trace her fingers over his lips.
Her phone chimed near the front door, breaking the cozy atmosphere around them. She glanced out a nearby window into the pitch-black of the forest and grimaced. “It’s late. I should probably get home.”
“You could stay here tonight,” Murphy offered suddenly.
Her eyes widened. “Here?”
As inwithhim? Was he—
“I’m fine to take the couch if you want to sleep in my room,” Murphy offered, interrupting the sexual thoughts that had begun to form in her mind. Just as quickly, they evaporated, to be replaced with disappointment. “It’ll save me a few hours of driving time since I’ll need to take you to your car in the morning anyway.”
That made sense, and it would give him some extra time to sleep. He needed it, and the thought of depriving him of rest was abhorrent.
Still …
“Are you sure?” Nessa asked. “I don’t want to take your bed and make you sleep on the couch.” He’d been doing that at her place all week.
“I insist.”
Coarse fur slid over her torn skin, the wolf snarling down at her, flashing a set of sharp teeth. Her fear spiked instantly.
Warm, sticky blood covered her torso, drenching her tattered shirt as more of her precious liquid pumped from the clawmarks that had split open her flesh, exposing muscle and tendons to the open air.
