"You," she whispered, her voice cracked. "You didn't stop talking."
"I had years of silence to make up for," I rasped, my voice sounding deeper, rougher than before.
I reached out slowly, telegraphing the move. I took the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it down, covering her.
"No hands," I reminded her softly.
I picked up the tablet from the floor. I didn't try to touch her face. I didn't try to hold her, though every instinct in my Alpha body was screaming at me to climb onto that bed and wrap her in my arms until the sun burned out.
I stood up. My knees cracked. I felt heavy, energized, and terrifyingly attached.
"Try to sleep," I said. "The vibration should keep the muscles loose for a while."
I turned to leave.
"Daniel?"
I stopped at the door, looking back. She was curled on her side, watching me.
"The book," she whispered. "What happens to Lady Charlotte?"
I looked down at the tablet in my hand. Amused that the question was coming from the author herself.
"She rewrites the laws," I said. "And she burns the council down."
Tessa closed her eyes, a small, exhausted twitch of a smile ghosting her lips.
"Good."
I walked out into the hallway and closed the door.
I leaned against the wall, sliding down until I hit the floor again. My mouth still tasted like her. My heartbeat was booming in my ears like a war drum.
Anders was at the end of the hallway, staring at me. His face was pale, his eyes wide. He had heard everything. The reading. The screaming. The praise.
"Did you..." Anders started, his voice hushed.
"She was in pain," I said, my voice grating like gravel. I wiped my mouth again, knowing he could smell her on me from twenty feet away. "I fixed it."
"You crossed the line," Anders whispered. "Again."
"The line is gone, Anders," I said, closing my eyes and tipping my head back against the wall. "She erased it."
I sat there in the dark hallway, savoring the salt on my tongue, and waited for the next storm.
THIRTEEN
Anders
The sound of a resonant hum vibrating through the wall was not something a man could easily ignore.
It was a low-frequency, sub-bass and steady, the kind of sound that settled deep in the chest cavity. Daniel’s voice. The "Voice of a Generation." The voice that had narrated three of my bestselling authors’ audiobooks and currently commanded a royalty rate higher than most Hollywood actors.
I sat at the kitchen island, staring at the grain of the white oak cabinets, my hands clenched so tight around the edge of the counter that my knuckles were bloodless.
Hummmmm.
Then, a gasp. Her gasp.
