Karolina
I’m ready to talk. Can you meet me at the Minster?
Rand
I’ll be there in ten minutes.
King’s Manor is close, so I’m not surprised he can get to me quickly. He always seems prepared to drop everything for me.
And this time, it’s not because I’m being threatened by my stalker. He simply wants to see me, especially after our steamy scene in his office yesterday.
As I wait for him to arrive, a choir gathers in the center of the cathedral. They’re singing in Latin, so I can’t understand the words, but the music is beautiful enough to draw more tears to my eyes.
I don’t jolt when Rand gently touches my shoulder; I recognize him.
He sits beside me and murmurs, “What’s wrong?”
I blink hard to stave off my tears and turn to face him. “I wanted to see you.”
I’m not sure what else to say. I don’t want to tell him about Bones. That feels too private.
And I don’t want to talk to him about my sexual relationship with another man.
His hand rests atop mine.
“I’m glad. I needed to see you too.” He squeezes my fingers. “I want to be with you, Lena. Don’t walk away again. Please.”
“But you barely know me,” I whisper.
“I know enough. I know I’ve never felt this way about anyone else. I don’t care that you’re my student. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. Let me in. I will never hurt you.”
I think about all we’ve shared. I haven’t spent much time with him, but I am getting to know him. Probably more deeply than what he shares with most people.
We’re both orphans, and we both know the darker side of humanity.
It’s made me isolate to protect myself, but Rand doesn’t seem to respond to his trauma in the same way.
At least, not when it comes to me.
On a physical level, our desires do seem perfectly matched. But we’re more than that.
“I’m scared,” I admit. “Not of you. I’m scared of what might happen.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he vows.
“I’m scared of what will happen toyou.” The fearful confession is drawn from deep in my soul.
His head tilts, and he tries to read me. “I told you I’m perfectly capable of defending myself against your stalker.”
“It’s not that,” I insist.
A series of macabre images race across my brain in a nauseating film reel: my parents, pale and bloated on slabs; Carter, eyes unseeing and his head a gory mess; Brandon, hisface ruined and his body unmoving; and finally, Rich with his throat slashed.
“Breathe,” Rand intones. “Look at me.”
I focus on him and drag in a shaky breath.
“You’re safe,” he promises. “And so am I. Nothing bad is going to happen to me. I won’t let anyone harm either of us.”
