I relax, allowing his comforter to envelop me. I hold his gaze, moving my hands over my stomach and lower. As he stares, I reach for a blanket, feeling too exposed, too vulnerable. Is he going to touch me? Ineedhim to touch me.
“Don’t,” he groans. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long. Don’t cover up. Let me look at you,please.”
The pain in his eyes, the tightness of his fist—I smile. There’s no one who’s ever looked at me the way he does. Like he’s been tossed overboard and is drowning, but the water is soothing and warm, so he doesn’t mind. Love, reverence, obsession—they all blur together in the way he takes me in.
Finally, he moves forward, fingertips trailing up my thigh. I shake but arch and reach for his tie.
“Slade …” I whine.
He chuckles before the edge of his smile disappears. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he murmurs. “Waiting for you to want me the way I want you.”
His unguarded expression is dangerous, but there’s no turning back. Not now, not ever. And even though he’ll hate me in the morning, I need him. I’m not ashamed to admit it.
“I love you, Thea. Tonight, let me show you what words never can.”
I roll over and glance at Slade; he’s finally asleep. The room, alive with soft sounds an hour ago, has now settled into a deepsilence. Sheets tangle around my legs, and I scooch closer to him, listening to his breathing, slow, steady.
The moonlight caresses his bare chest, outlining the cruel, jagged scar—EV’s signature branding a man who never wanted this. I barely brush my fingers over the edge, tracing it. This is why something more needs to be done.
I sink down into the down comforter, the weight making me not want to move. I nuzzle into the space between his shoulder and jaw, breathing him in. The musk of his skin, the mix of his scent with mine. I’m careful not to wake him, though part of me wants to—to explain. To convince him.
He doesn’t move, not even as much as a twitch, and I smile, wondering what if we’d met in a different life. Something simple. Perhaps I run into him at the coffee shop while he’s getting his morning coffee with his assistant. I accidentally pick up his coffee at the window, but instead of being upset, he takes mine. He asks for my number, and we go on a dinner date three days later at a restaurant—one you can’t get reservations at for a year.
I shake my head, rubbing my forehead with the palm of my hand. I’m not sure I could do it; trade our story for something different, a version less brutal. I don’t want coffee shop courtesy, a polite exchange of numbers, or fancy dinners. I love his silent obsession and unmannered devotion, plus our Frosted Flakes.
I’ve never loved a man, not really, but him … I could love him until death do us part. It’s just that the death part might come a whole lot sooner.
It was never going to be simple for us.
I stay close, letting the ache and fear seep away with him by my side for just a little longer. I don’t move; I don’t speak.
I inhale five long breaths, willing confidence I’ve never had. Then, I push back the comforter and get out of bed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
SLADE
That strange early-morning light wakes me. Pale blue spills out from the edges of the night black, but the sun hasn’t peeked over the horizon yet. My eyes crack open enough to study the faint glow slanting across the room and catching the glossy covers of my comics. It takes me a moment, but the cries and pleasured moans from Thea rattle in my brain as its first coherent thought, and I groan, wanting more of her already.
I reach over, my hand slipping into the warm spot her body should be, but it’s empty. The slight dip where she was is still there, but she’s gone. I flip over and confirm the side of the bed she fell asleep on is empty, then I sit up, looking toward the bathroom. The door is open, and I listen, hearing nothing. I push back the covers and pad over to my closet, pulling out a pair of boxers to slide on.
She may have gone to the kitchen for water, or perhaps she couldn’t sleep. Is she having second thoughts about what happened between us? She can’t possibly know how perfect she was. Her body, who she is as a person—she’s made for me. I’ve never felt this way for anyone, and I don’t want to scare her away, but I also don’t want to lose her. I can’t lose her.
Driven to find her, I ignore any further clothing and set out across the mezzanine and down the stairs.
The gray clouds swallow the sun as it peeks over the horizon, and instead of illuminating the blue sky, bruised clouds drag shadows across the walls of the hallway. Rain sprinkles, small drops speckling the windows, and the patter echoes through the house as the lone sound shakes loose an odd sensation from me. Where is she?
I stick my head into the kitchen to find it vacant. Stefan isn’t here yet, and Edmond hasn’t wandered in. Something is pressing on my chest. I spin, eyes rolling over the living room briefly before I charge down the main hallway toward her bedroom.
Edmond exits a room, dressed for the day in his butler suit. “Sir?” His eyes widen at my attire, then dilate even wider as he takes in my scar for the first time.
“Have you seen Thea?” I ask.
Edmond blinks. “Uh, no. She’s not in her room?”
We both move across the hall to her bedroom. The door is shut, so I knock quietly. If she’s asleep, I don’t want to wake her, but why would she leave my bed to sleep back in her own? Did I do something wrong? Is she ashamed? Hell, my heart is pounding.
There’s no answer to my knock, so I try the handle. It’s locked. I step back from the door, huffing.
