The irony wasn't lost on me. She was offering to be there for me while I was trying to figure out how to trap her in a marriage she didn't want. I pulled into the campus parking lot and killed the engine. Shanice gathered her bag, still smiling.
"I'll see you after class," she said.
"I'll be here."
She got out, and I watched her walk toward the building, her ponytail swinging, her hips moving in those jeans that made me want to follow her and forget about everything else. But I couldn't. I had a problem to solve. And a very limited amount of time to solve it.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. I stayed close to Shanice, walked her between classes, made sure she ate lunch. But my mind was working the whole time, running through scenarios, discarding options, looking for the right approach.
By the time we got back to the mansion that evening, I still didn't have an answer. But I was running out of time. Dmitri wouldn't wait forever. And I'd be damned if I let anyone hurt her. Even if that meant forcing her into something she wasn't ready for.
Mikhail
Ididn't sleep that night.
I lay in my own bed for the first time in days, staring at the ceiling, my mind working through every possible angle. Every scenario ended the same way: I needed to marry Shanice, and I needed to do it fast. But forcing her would break something between us. Something fragile and brand new that I wasn't willing to destroy. A thing I wanted—a relationship with her.
Around three in the morning, I heard it. A cry from down the hall. I was on my feet and moving before I'd consciously decided to. Her door was closed, but I could hear her through it. Whimpering. Caught in another nightmare.
I opened the door quietly. She was tangled in her sheets, her face tight with distress, her body curled into itself like she was trying to make herself small.
"No," she mumbled. "Please, no."
I crossed to the bed and sat on the edge, reaching out to touch her shoulder. "Shanice. Wake up."
She jerked awake with a gasp, her eyes wide and unfocused. It took her a moment to see me, to recognize where she was.
"Mikhail," she breathed.
"Just a dream," I said softly. "You're safe."
She sat up, wrapping her arms around herself. "They keep coming back. The nightmares. I thought they were getting better, but tonight..."
"Tonight was bad?"
She nodded, not meeting my eyes. "I was back in the warehouse. But this time you didn't come. No one came. And I just kept waiting and waiting and..."
Her voice broke.
I pulled her into my arms without thinking, tucking her head under my chin. She melted into me, her fingers clutching my shirt.
"I'm here," I murmured. "I'll always come for you. Always."
We sat like that for a long time, her breathing gradually evening out, her body relaxing against mine.
"Can I ask you something?" she said quietly.
"Anything."
"Why did you volunteer to be my guard? Really?"
I was quiet for a moment, choosing my words carefully. "Because the alternative was watching someone else do it. And I couldn't stand the thought of that."
"Why not?"
"Because you're mine to protect." I pulled back enough to look at her. "I know you don't want to hear that. I know you want independence and normalcy and all the things I can't give you. But it's the truth. From the moment I helped you out of that warehouse, you've been mine. I've meant every word I've ever told you about how I feel. ‘Really’ doesn't apply."
She stared at me, her eyes searching my face. "That's crazy."
