Something shifts in his face. The hard edge doesn’t disappear, but it changes shape. It’s less sharp. “You don’t have to perform for me,” he says.
I laugh softly, because if I don’t, I’ll cry. “That’s unfortunate. I had a whole routine prepared. Jokes. Deflection. Possibly jazz hands.”
His mouth twitches. “No jazz hands.”
“I can’t make promises.”
He watches me for a beat, then glances away like he’s giving me privacy to be human. And the strangest thing happens. My heartbeat slows. Not because the threat is gone. But because he’s here. Because his presence is like a wall. Like nothing can get through it.
I hate that I need that.
I also want it.
The engine hum becomes steady white noise. The cabin lights are low. The vibration of the plane seeps into my bones like a lullaby I didn’t ask for. I stare out the small window at darkness and scattered lights below, and my eyelids get heavier than they should. Exhaustion hits like a wave. Adrenaline withdrawal. Shock. The body finally realizing it’s allowed to rest for a minute.
Sin shifts in his seat, jacket creasing softly. I keep my eyes on him because it’s easier than thinking about what could have happened last night.
His gaze is back on me again.
“What?” I whisper.
“You’re fading,” he says.
“I’m not fading,” I argue, already fading.
His eyes go to my face, then my hands. “Sleep.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. I’m here.” That shouldn’t be as comforting as it is.
My throat tightens. “You say that like it’s a guarantee.”
“It is,” he says, voice low and absolute.
My heart does that stupid thing again, like it’s trying to rewrite my entire dating history based on one sentence. I swallow. “You barely know me.”
“I know enough.”
I want to ask what he means by that, but my brain is turning syrupy. My eyes keep closing against my will. I force out onemore question, stubborn to the end. “If I wake up and we’re in a basement with porcelain dolls, I’m going to haunt you.”
His mouth curves slightly. “Noted.”
“And… don’t let them hurt me,” I whisper, and I hate how small it sounds.
Sin’s voice is quieter, closer to something gentle. “Nobody touches you.”
The words wrap around me like a blanket and I lose the fight. Sleep takes me.
The next thing I know, there’s a shift in movement. A change in sound. The plane’s descent, my body floating slightly against the seatbelt. My eyes crack open and everything is dim and blurred. My cheek’s pressed against the seat, drool threatening my dignity.
I blink. And realize I’m not in the seat anymore. I’m in the air. Sin’s arms are around me, carrying me like I weigh nothing. My face is pressed against his chest, warm through his shirt. His heartbeat is steady beneath my ear, slow and controlled. For a second my brain panics. Then my brain recognizes him.
Sin.
And the panic dissolves into something else. Safety. Like my body has just decided this is where I belong.
I shift slightly, and his grip tightens, protective, instinctive. His voice murmurs near my hair. “You awake?”
