Page 89 of Bleed with Me

“I was,” I admitted, remembering the thrill and adrenaline rush of the chase too vividly. “It’s gone… too soon…” I trailed off, gently taking her hand off my face. “Now, I’m just exhausted. Bed?”

“What?”

The confusion shone in her eyes, but she didn’t object and joined me in bed. The bow rested on her right side as she lay down, and I snuggled my face into the crook of her neck.

Throwing my arm over her, my front pressed against her side, and I felt her hand, stripped of the leather glove, on the back of my head. Her long, pointy fingernails trailed through my hair, grazing my skin and making goosebumps erupt all over my body.

“Who ruffled your mighty feathers, baby?” she asked softly, her lips hovering over my forehead.

“Will you shoot them for me, ma vilaine?” I teased, brushing my nose against her neck. Her floral perfume brought memories of all our encounters to the forefront of my mind, stirring my cock to life.

“If it brings the spark back to your eyes,” she kissed my forehead tenderly, moving her hand from my head to scratch my naked back, “then I won’t hesitate.”

My hold on her tightened, and I closed my eyelids to enjoy the moment of contentment. But the demon in my head, bound by her soothing presence, glared at me from the darkness, watching me, waiting for another moment of weakness to break free and take hold of my sanity.

“Some monsters can’t be erased,” I mumbled, taking her completely into my system. Her scent wrapped around me, blanketing me, creating a barrier between me and the outside world.

I hadn’t felt like this in a very long time. Safe. The thought alone felt foreign. Her fingers didn’t stop, scratching lightly over my skin as if she knew exactly where to touch to keep me grounded. It was dangerous how easily she did that. How naturally my body responded to her, like she already knew every part of me, while I didn’t even know her name.

“But they can be fought.” She pushed my misbehaving hair away, my heart doing a pathetic little jump when our gazes met. “Want help with that?”

My teeth sank into my lower lip, the question lingering between us like a loaded gun I refused to touch. Because if I said yes, did it mean I accepted her? Was I ready to accept something more? After all those years, was I prepared for… what exactly? A relationship? Intimacy? Trust?

Fuck!

The demon chuckled in my head, and I snuggled closer to her.

Since she’d barged into my life, her every action was bold and unpredictable, bringing unfamiliar excitement into my life. Yes, I had a great life. I could do whatever I wanted, but this hit different. She was different, nothing like the women I usually met. Beautiful, well-mannered, following rules like trained monkeys to keep their status or catch a wealthy husband.

No, she wasn’t any of that. When this menace wanted a husband, she kidnapped one.

The thought of being her choice sent an embarrassing thrill through me. If that wasn’t a clear sign I cared for her more than I should, I didn’t know what was—that and the suffocating fear that Malin would hurt her.

Still, forced marriage, probably not legally binding, was one thing. It was fun to call her my wife and everything around it, but this?

Lying in bed, cuddling, talking? It felt good. Not good—fantastic. Like she was sculpted to fit perfectly into my arms, like she was made for me. But opening up to someone outside my trusted circle was unimaginable. The last time I stood before the option of all or nothing, I chose the first, and I was left with a broken heart, a chaotic mind, and a ticket to Africa to escape.

What would save me if my craving for something extraordinary exploded in my face again?

The questions seemed endless, and the answers were nowhere to be found. My exhausted brain quickly gave up searching for them, but my alarm clock refused to let me sleep. With a groan, I turned on my back and slammed my hand against the persistent machine that blared like the house was on fire.

Wiping my eyes, I sat up, instantly recalling that I shouldn’t be alone in bed, but the other side was vacant. No trace of my wife, her bow, or her scent. The only indicator she wasn’t an illusion was a note pinned to the pillow.

It was the best night of my life. Thank you.

I stared at the words, unable to understand them. I wasn’t aware of anything that made the night feel that way. My cock expressed its excitement as it did every morning, but that was pretty much it.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and searched my mind for clues, but nothing useful popped up. So I typed:

Dorian: Best night of your life? What did I do to deserve that title?

My nose scrunched as I glanced at the text. But she didn’t give me time to muse about the holes in my memory.

Wifey: If you have to ask, you won’t understand the answer.

Terrific. A guessing game so early in the morning wasn’t on my to-do list.

Dorian: Fine.