Page 120 of A Sin So Pure

“And how did that go?”

“I ruined about five practice targets at a gun range, so,” she huffs. “I know it probably doesn’t make sense. It’s hard to explain what goes on in here.”

She points to her heart.

“You don’t have to,” I whisper. “I understand.”

“Do you?” It’s more of a plea than a question—a hope, a wish.

“I might not understand the mechanics of it, how it exactly feels inside of you. But I know what it’s like to be scared.”

She shakes her head, face shuttering. “I wasn’t scared. I was furious.”

“No, Nora. You were furiousbecauseyou were scared.”

The firewood pops, spitting red embers into the air.

“The thought of losing you…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but I know how it ends.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” I say. “But it sounds as if you’re set on running headfirst into a conflict with this Virtue anyway.”

“I can’t be killed that easily.”

I smack her arm, and Nora yelps, dropping the med kit onto the rug at our feet.

“Apparently, neither can I. But you are forgetting that neither of us is invincible. You might not be as fragile as a human, but you’re not a god. Bullets can kill as easily as magic.”

My hand goes to my side on instinct. While the wound has healed, phantom pains still shoot through me; the memory of the slick blood coating my skin lingers.

“You dish out hard truths, love,” she says, and my heart skips a beat at the moniker.

“Promise you won’t run away next time,” I say. “I don’t need to be protected from what goes on in here.” I reach forward, placing a hand over her chest. Her heartbeat flows through my fingertips, in time with mine. “I just wantyou. Including the parts that are scared.”

“I promise,” she says. Nora stares down at my hand and I at her. Neither of us knows where to go from here, but neither of us is bold enough to break the connection thrumming between us.Then, as if she can hear my indecisive thoughts, she blinks from her stupor, pulling my hand from her chest. “We’re both a mess. Let’s get cleaned up.”

I watch as she stands and saunters across the apartment, heading to the bathroom. I follow.

The light flicks on in the bathroom, fluorescent bulbs humming as they backlight Nora; her silhouette is a shadow dancing against the tile. The bathwater runs, and steam billows around the clawfoot tub. Lavender and eucalyptus salts fill the room with a calming perfume and cloud the water a pretty lilac.

I stand in the doorway, watching as Nora swirls the water with her fingertips, testing the temperature and adjusting the faucets accordingly.

“Can we cuddle tonight?” I ask.

The question comes to the tip of my tongue on instinct. Nora’s brows are furrowed when she looks up from her perch on the porcelain tub.

“Of course,” she says, her voice a brush of cashmere across my skin. “Tonight, I only want to take care of you, however you need me to.”

I nod, warmth spreading through my chest.

“And we can stay in bed all morning?”

Her gaze melts. “Yes, Imogen, we can do that.”

“Good,” I say.

“Good,” she says, a soft smile on her lips. “Now, come here. Before the bath runs cold.”

We spend nearly two days in Nora’s bed, not even doing anything; we simply exist. Together. And it’s perfect.

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