Dan never stroked my hair or comforted me.
I cuddle in even closer to Shane, and he keeps his gentle hold on me. I can feel questions rising in him, and I know they are legitimate questions that deserve answers.
Because my deal here is not just the kidnapping, or the supernatural world, or even the curse. No, the main barrier to my connection with Shane is living inside me, and I don’t know how to exorcise it.
I take a breath as if I’m ready to speak. My past flashes behind my eyes, and I wonder where I should even start. But the pause holds for too long, and words are lost to me.
I can’t. I can’t tell him. I’ve never told anyone.
Shane strokes my hair again, and I close my eyes, losing myself in the comfort of his touch. I silently pray that this moment is real, and that this place in his arms is as safe as it feels right now.
Chapter 19 - Shane
Hyacinth’s warm weight on my chest soothes me, the soft rush of her breathing lulling me into a state of pure relaxation. Her hair is soft under my fingers. She’s so contented, it almost feels like she’s purring.
What the fuck just happened?
Obviously, sex. But other than that, I’m at a loss. I remember falling—a dark wave swallowing me up, a horrible nausea rising in my throat, the shock of hitting the floor, then—
Hyacinth’s kiss.
Pleasure runs through me again just at the memory of it. A faint tingle of goosebumps flows over my skin, and I feel it ripple across Hyacinth’s body. When I look down, I see her fingers teasing gently against my chest, and she smiles up at me, her violet eyes turning warm and bright.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “I mean, are you—were you—”
“I’m okay,” she says, moving a little so she can look up at me more comfortably. “But what about you? You fell. You were so sick, I thought you were going to die.”
“I’m fine,” I reply, stretching my limbs a little as I look for weakness or pain. “Better than ever.”
“Have I cured you?” Hyacinth asks.
Good question.
To answer it, I’d have to get up, and it’s the last thing I want to do. I tighten my arms around her again, enjoying the weight of her head against my chest and the sweet smell of her completely engulfing my senses.
Why do I feel like if I let her go, I’ll never hold her again?
“I’m not sure,” I say, answering Hyacinth’s question. “I’d have to get up, and I don’t really want to do that.”
“Me neither,” she replies. “But I am getting a bit stiff from being on this floor.”
“Me too,” I admit, unwinding myself from Hyacinth so I can get up.
The moment our bodies part, I feel a gray veil of pain settle over me. It’s nowhere near as bad as it was before, but definitely strong enough that I feel significantly worse after letting go of her.
“How do you feel?” she asks.
“Okay,” I reply. “But not healed. Let me see something.”
I reach out and take her hand, and the veil lifts, just a little. Looking around and testing my senses, I find that they’re stable but not as strong as they should be.
“I’m not cured,” I say with disappointment. “But I do feel a lot better than before.”
“Well, that’s something,” she says.
“Something is better than nothing,” I reply.
“I wonder if…” Hyacinth looks up at me, her eyes narrowing a little as she examines me.
