"You are afraid I might leave you," he says finally.
I relax an inch but still feel too transparent in this position, even if I don’t ever want to leave his arms.
"I can tell you with certainty, my little monster, I will never leave you. I am to be with you for all eternity."
Though my heart strains for so much more, it’s enough. Enough to get me to stop pestering him with childish questions so I can focus on enjoying our time together.
For now, anyway.
I can’t help that my feelings for him are deepening and growing more complicated with each passing day. And I’m not sure where this is heading.
But a part of me suspects that I’m on a train bound to crash and burn.
More
There are still several days until I’ll see Miguel again, so I’m in bed by ten p.m., but sleep evades me. Maybe it’s because the apartment is near boiling—so much so that I finally threatened my landlord I’d set the place on fire and claim it had been the faulty thermostat.
Or maybe I can’t close my eyes because of the tension roiling through my lower belly that spirals down into an insistent, throbbing heat between my legs. I’ve stripped down to a tank top and panties, though I consider taking those off too.
My own skin feels more sensual than usual. As if I’ve woken up from a dream into my real life. A life where Shadow desires me, wants me.
I didn’t make it all up. It’s real.
He may be fighting it, but I feel hope in a way I’ve never felt before.
It throws my relationship with Miguel into sharper perspective. He’s lovely, but I was right when I last saw him. I can’t do this.
Not while I know Shadow feels even a sliver of what I do.
Weeks usually go by before I see Shadow again, so I expect nothing less this time. Especially with his abrupt departure. What had he heard or sensed?
Was he in danger?
Was it because of me?
Definitely because of me.
Because of me, he broke out of some hellish prison and was now on the run.
Because of me, he’d been imprisoned in the first place.
Rolling back and forth until the sheets twist around my body—it almost feels like when Shadow restrained me. How could something so dangerous make me feel so safe?
Do you mean the monster or being restrained, Evie?
I don’t answer myself. Instead, I writhe even more, imagining Shadow is there with me.
My hand slips over my thigh, teasing my own skin.
"You are so fucked up, Evie," I whisper to myself, even as I close my eyes and fade into my fantasy. Remembering the way Shadow kissed me like he wanted to ravage the depths of my soul, the way he slammed his hardness up into my jeans-clad sex until I was out of my mind with need...
My fingertip teases up and down, spreading the wetness across my panties. I shudder with desire. I want those white misty eyes to turn the color of hell itself.
Pushing my panties to the side, I dip my finger to the first knuckle and gasp at the wetness and sensitivity there.
The pressure against my skin, the feeling of his presence is so real, it’s like he’s in the room. Plunging two fingers into me, I cry out as I arch up, my back bowing.
When I open my eyes, I find it isn’t my imagination. Shadow is there at the foot of the bed, his tendrils of smoke puffed out more than usual. His eyes—that color of red I had imagined, craved.
