Page 35 of Whispers of Fire

Where am I?

Opening my eyes, I locked them with the only man I feel safe with. I should hate his touch, I should push his hand away and listen to the rules of my community, but I don't.

Instead, I embrace it.

Vox.

“Breathe, Angel, it’s okay, you’re safe,” he says, lowering his hand on my jaw and taking my chin between two of his fingers. My eyes must be wide with confusion because I see a glimpse of a smile at the corners of his lips.

“Found you on my couch yesterday. Just put you in my bed so you’ll be more comfortable.” He swallows, looking deep in my eye with his cobalt gaze. “I stayed on the armchair the whole night,” he adds, answering the silent question he saw in my eyes.

How could he know I felt overwhelmed at the idea of us sleeping in the same bed?

Truth is, even if the idea of sharing a bed with him feels unusual, it doesn’t feel wrong. Not at all. I’m actually surprised by how comfy his bed is, how tidy everything is and how right it all feels.

Like I could be living here and it would be the most natural thing in the world.

Something inside me love the fact that he carried me to his bed knowing I would be more at ease there. Knowing that he slept on the armchair, beside me, respecting my boundaries while still protecting me.

Are you insane, Rose? Get it together.

Looking at the clock on his bedside table, I see that it's only six in the morning. He must have noticed that I get out of the house by eight every day to go to the Institute and wanted me to have a bit of time to go back to get ready for the day.

“Don’t know if you want to get ready here but if you do, the shower is behind the door, and the towels are under the sink,” he says, clenching his jaw, making a motion of his chin to the door in front of the bed.

I always shower in the morning, but I could go back to my house and do it there, and besides, it would be, hum, inappropriate for me to shower in his home, especially now that I’m, well, engaged .

Ew.

He stands and walks toward another door on the left side of the room.

“Gonna make you breakfast, take your time, Angel,” he says, looking at the bed, as if his eyes were trying to avoid me. His body is suddenly tense, the opposite of when he was stroking my cheeks a minute ago.

This is all crazy. I shouldn’t even be there.

But I am.

Because yesterday, laying on my bed, I couldn’t find sleep after trying for hours, and the only thing that kept going through my mind was him and the invitation he gave me last time I was there.

So after days of waiting for his return, I did what I shouldn’t have done days ago. I walked out of my bed, tiptoed to the garden and stepped inside his house through the bay window just like he said I could. I fell asleep on his couch waiting for him to return.

I wanted to be close to him, to be protected from the nightmares by his warm presence.

And I must have had a lucky star because he came back that night from wherever he was.

I nod at his words, accepting the shower and the breakfast he’s offering me. His eyes tell me that he knows as well that what we are doing is crossing a line. One that can’t be reversed. My house is a few meters away. I can eat and shower there.

Why would I do this here?

As my heart quickens, I tuck out the covers and walk to the shower, feeling his eyes on me. His gaze is like hot lava running on my skin and making me almost whimper. The tension in the room is thicker than I’ve ever felt, and I hear his exhale before walking outside the room and storming downstairs.

God.

Is it me or does the room suddenly feel like a hundred degrees?

As I walk into the bathroom, I catch a whiff of mint soap and notice how spotless everything is, just like the rest of his place. Then my eyes land on something familiar.

No way.

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