Page 73 of Oathbreaker

“Whatever you need,” I reply. My fingers toy with a single curl.

“Okay,” she says on a breath.

She brings her lips to mine.

I can’t control the punch of emotion the action brings any more than I can control the trembling in my hands. Her lips—her supple, soft lips—press against mine with shy caution. With a throaty sigh, she presses her still mouth against mine even harder and brings her arm around to rest against my spine.

She pulls her head back, her eyelids fluttering as she opens them to look at me. There’s no way I can hide the love I have for her.

“H,” she says with a trembling voice.

“Sunbeam,” I reply, just as moved.

“Will you hold me while I sleep?” She rubs her face against my chest, and I lean down to kiss her hairline.

“Always,” I reply with peace.

SIXTEEN

WINTER

My days consist of hanging out with August and yearning to see Hunter, but I’m terrified about what I'll do when I face him.

It’s exhausting.

I woke up with my body entangled with Hunter’s, and the immediate feeling I had upon opening my eyes was peace. He was in a deep sleep, but with my leg slung over his hip, I panicked when I felt the pressure of his heavy erection against my core through the layers of fabric.

So I slid away from him and rushed out of the room, calling Kitty to follow.

I cried in the shower until Kitty started scratching at the bathroom door. That was a week ago.

I think I was so pissed off that even after all the things that were stolen from me in the span of those short days, I’m continuing to lose things. I’m losing time with the man I love. I’m losing the ability to create new, happy memories and experiences. I wanted Paris, damnit. And I didn’t get it because of Adam Fucking Collins.

I’m tired of him winning. I won’t let him win again. I won’t let him have my future.

Keeping my mind and body busy during the day stunts the frenetic energy that seems to be ever-present these days.

I’m always on the edge of anxiety, keeping sharp panic just beyond the surface and manageable enough not to fall off the cliff. Kitty is always at my side, but he hasn’t had to bring me down.

I feel good about that.

I’m glad I kissed him. I’m glad I did what I wanted, and I wasn’t scared at the moment. But now that we’re apart, I’m scared again, and I fucking hate that.

So during the day, I’m okay. I can compartmentalize. I don’t think about Veronica and how shit I was to her. I don’t think about Adam. I don’t think about the fact that I killed someone. I don’t think about Hunter and how much I fucking miss him, even though the thought of him seeing me, feeling me, fills me with near-overwhelming panic.

I don’t have those thoughts during the day.

But at night, I’m out of control.

There's an hour and a half until sunrise, and I haven’t slept at all. Every time I close my eyes, different images creep in.

Nightmares.

Adam is alive in the cabin, his face pitted from stab wounds and deteriorating with death as he chases me.

In another, Hunter throws me away—never caring to rescue me.

The realities of the past merge and morph to become part-fiction and part-fact.

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