She returns with a steaming mug and curls up on the far end of the couch, tuckin’ her feet beneath her. She grabs a pink knitted blanket and pulls it to her chin.
“Time for a comfort show,” she announces to the empty room. And to me, though she doesn’t know it.
She points the remote at the telly. And scrolls through.
Alice in Borderland.
All of Us Are Dead.
Slasher: Flesh and Blood
Christ. For a girl who looks like a woodland fairy eating ramen in winged dogs, she has a savage taste for blood.
She selects Squid Game.
“Red light…Green light,” the telly chants.
She sips her tea, fixated on the screen while the folk are getting massacred. She looks completely at peace.
Everything about her is beautiful and real, pure in a way I have never fathomed. The light from the telly plays over her face. Her body softens into the couch as she drinks her tea, slow and savoring. Good girl, respect for the oldest drink in the world. The flutter of her lashes. Her occasional sigh.
She’s feisty, so she is. Saved a stranger, hauled him home, stitched him up, and threatened him over a bowl of noodles.
I could leave. Snap the tie, get my piece from the freezer—I saw her put it there—and vanish into the night.
But the rain is lashing against the window. My side is throbbing. And this fuzzy rug is surprisingly comfortable.
I’m not going anywhere.
I let my eyes drift shut for real this time, the sounds of the show lulling me.
Right then and there, I decide. I’m sticking around. I’ll let her think she’s caught me. I’ll let her play the nurse.
And when I’m healed?
Well, Liam Donovan always pays his debts. And he always keeps what he decides belongs to him.
And I’ve a feeling this little wallflower with the dark taste in books is about to become very mine.
Sleep well, mo Róisín.
CHAPTER 3
Elexia
The first thing I notice is the heat.
It’s a heavy, radiating warmth that feels like a weighted blanket, only far more alive. I’m groggy, my mind floating in that soft, hazy space between dreams and reality where everything feels safe and solid. A rough texture strokes the back of my hand, knuckles dragging with a slow, possessive pull. It finds its own rhythm.
It feels…amazing.
A low hum vibrates against my back, and I press closer to the source of the warmth. A tight ache grows in my center, like lightning sparking and diffusing down my thighs. My nipples harden against my soft pajamas, and for a blissful second, I think I’m finally living out one of my spicy book chapters.
Then I feel it. Something very hard, very thick, pressing against the curve of my butt.
Holy shit. I know what that is.
My eyes snap open.
