Page 34 of Whispers of Fire

I’m about to set her down on the edge of the bed when I catch myself.

Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen in my fucked up life.

She fits perfectly in my arms, warm and smellin’ like vanilla, and I can't help but bury my face in her hair and kiss her forehead.

Crossin’ the lines I swore I wouldn't cross.

Carefully, I lay her down on the bed. It's new havin’ Rose in my space, but at the same time, it feels… right. Like she's supposed to be here.

She's the first woman I've brought here. I don’t usually bring anyone into my home. I prefer to stay at the club or some crappy motel when I've got a girl with me.

I pull my arms away, and she squirms a bit, grabbing onto a piece of fabric on my forearm, yankin’ it towards her like she's cravin’ my closeness.

No, don’t do this.

I freeze, my breath hitching as Rose's fingers grip my sleeve. It sends a jolt through me, my blood pumping harder under my skin. Her hold tightens, like she's reachin’ for some kind of lifeline in the dark. She's lying there, so peaceful, so vulnerable, and yet even asleep I can see how strong she is.

This girl is trapped in a cult, mute and goes through punishment like it’s a damn normal thing. Gotta hand it to her, she's got more backbone than most men I know.

I can't peel my gaze away from her, even though I'm wrestling with a whole mess of memories hitting me hard.

Flashbacks from my little brother Jamie sleeping on the couch when we were younger. Then from his blooded face as we crashed into a car that night that changed it all.

A part of me wants to pull her closer but there's another part, a more rational one, that knows I need to keep my distance.

Keep her at arm’s length. Keep your walls up. That’s what kept you alive all those years.

I run a hand through my hair and sigh.

Fuck it.

Screw the rational part of me, screw the consequences. If I can't hold her in my arms, at least I can stay close to her and watch over her while she sleeps.

That’s what she came for anyway, right? If she came to sleep here, perhaps that means I can help her fight her nightmares?

Lettin’ her grip fall from my sleeve, I lay her down completely on my bed and I settled into the armchair beside it.

Close enough to reach out and touch her if I want to.

Far enough to keep my sanity.

Resting my forearms on my thighs, I take her in, every detail of her, from the wild tangle of her hair to the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

Fuckin’ love when she lets her hair down.

She's like a damn goddess lying there, so peaceful, so innocent. And for the first time in a long time, I feel somethin’ stir deep inside me, somethin’ I thought was long dead and buried the night of the car crash.

I sigh and lean back in the chair, my Glock pressed against my back.

Maybe it's reckless, but right now, it feels like the right thing to do.

Rose is here and that's all that matters.

Rose

A warm touch is caressing my face, making me wish it was Vox’s hand. I’m still asleep, curled up in soft sheets that smell like musk and soap. The hand keeps stroking my cheek until a finger reaches my lower lips.

“Hi, sleepyhead.” A deep raspy voice wakes me up instantly.

---