Page 9 of King of Shadows

Oh. My. God. His hands are magic.

He works his thumbs into the sore spots, slowly easing away the tension that has built up all day, causing me to sink deeper into the couch.

A soft moan slips from my lips as I rest my head against the armrest, listening to the faint sounds of the television and the steady rhythm of his hands working over my feet.

Soon, my body grows heavier, and my thoughts become slower. I know this is a terrible idea. I’m falling asleep with a stranger in my apartment.

I should stay awake. Instead, exhaustion wins. The last thing I remember is feeling myself being lifted.

Strong arms around me. The faint scent of his cologne. Then a soft touch against my forehead.

***

When I wake the next morning, Kazimir is gone. For some reason, I’m disappointed at the fact, instead of being happy that he finally left.

What was I expecting? For him to still be here? We’re not a couple. He’s a fucking stranger.

I should be grateful I’m waking up at all. He could have killed me in my sleep. I turn toward my nightstand and pause.

There are several hundred-dollar bills sitting there. Those aren’t mine. I sit up and grab them. I count them, a thousand dollars.

Beside the money is a folded note: Sorry for staining your carpet. I hope this can help with the cleanup.

I stare at the note for a few seconds before a smile slowly creeps onto my face. A thousand dollars for a stained carpet? This money could buy more than just a new carpet—it could even buy a new sofa.

I shake my head, still smiling as I place the money back on the nightstand.

Then I force myself to stop thinking about him. I get dressed, grab my things, and head to work. And just like that, I go back to my normal life.

Or at least, I try to. Because it’s impossible to go through my day without thinking about Kazimir. A week passes. And he is still in my head.

I’m logging off after another long shift when Bea, my best friend and colleague, pushes into the changing room and takes one look at my face.

“You’re doing it again,” she says. “That lost-in-thought thing.”

I should never have told her about Kazimir. I did, the morning after, because I couldn’t keep it to myself. And Bea being Bea has been bringing it up ever since. Every time I almost manage to bury him, she digs him back up.

“I wasn’t thinking about him. But thanks to you, I am now.”

She laughs. “Come on. You have to let it go. That was reckless. You let a stranger stay in your apartment and you didn’t even call the cops.”

“I didn’t let him in. He broke in.”

“And you still should have called the police.” She points a finger at me. “Promise me if anything like that happens again, you call the cops. Where is your survival instinct?”

“I have no idea,” I say with a smile.

We step out into the staff hallway. Bea hitches her bag higher.

“A few of us are going for drinks. You should come.”

“I can’t. I’m exhausted. I just want to go home and sleep.”

“Fine. Call if you change your mind.”

We wave, and I take the bus back to my building. I go about my evening routine as usual and head to bed. But sleep doesn’t come. My body is begging for sleep. But my brain apparently has other plans.

I toss and turn for a while before reaching for my toy in the drawer of my nightstand.