Page 40 of Heartless

It’s like he needs to make sure I’m actually here, actually with him, and not going to fade away into nothing. But I know I’m probably romanticizing it in my head, and making more of this than it ever could be.

Because obsession can’t be love.

Right?

Absently, I lift my hand, ignoring the blood on my fingers, and I spread my fingers to mimic his own, pressing down lightly against his warmth. “Good. But if you are looking for gratitude, coffee would get you there real quick.” Turning in my seat, I grin at him mockingly, and he barely glances my way before rolling his eyes.

“You’re such a problem. I was going to wait to ask what happened until we got back to my place, but if you won’t do me the favor of pretending to be asleep, you could tell me what happened?” Cassian suggests. His hand turns over on my leg, and before I can lift mine, he curls his fingers around my own, holding me in place.

But I don’t reply. Not at first, since I’m too busy looking at our interlocked hands on my thigh to think about what to say to him. I wiggle my fingers and his grip doesn’t loosen. Not that I’m really trying to get away from him; I’m just…testing, I suppose.

Myself more than him.

“The slaughterhouse portion of Manic Manor has never been my favorite.” I can hear the tiredness in my voice, and I realize the adrenaline has mostly drained out of me, leaving me feeling sleepy and a little sore. Which, admittedly, is probably because I do my bestnotto run if I can help it. My poor legs aren’t used to being asked for so much in such a short period of time.

“Reagan and I were the only ones, since the line was empty other than us. We got lucky. Unlucky?” I snort. “Then I got knocked down by a prop, but she went ahead. I don’t blame her. Butchers and fake hanging bodies? It was pretty realistic. Literally the moment I left the room, this guy was in the hall. I thought he was another scare actor, you know? Seeing a masked man with a knife in a haunted house isn’t exactly a red flag.” I scoff at my own words, a frown twitching at my lips as I study Cassian’s fingers.

“Don’t you mind that I’m getting blood on you?” I can’t help but ask, and when I glance at him, I see that he’s giving methat lookwhich says more than his words ever could. “Okay, sorry. You don’t need to call me stupid with your eyes, Cassian.” I wiggle my fingers against his in admonishment for all the good it does.

“Anyway, he cut me, and I realizedreal quickhe wasn’t part of the haunted house. Long story short, I took off and the guy chased me, then I ran into you.” At this point, I really could fall asleep. At least for a little while. I sink back into the seat, pressing my cheek against the cool window and blinking to keep my eyes from drifting closed.

“Did you recognize him? Anything about him? And are you sure it was a guy?” There’s no accusation in Cass’s words, just curiosity. Hell, he’s being calmer about this than anyone else I know ever could be. Honestly, I prefer it. This feels a lot more productive than panicking in a bad situation.

“I’m just assuming it was a guy. Since, you know,men.” I snort, feeling my eyes getting heavier. I’m only keeping them open to spite Cassian, to prove I don’t need to take a nap. “But no, I didn’t recognize anything. It was dark. They were dressed in black with a mask. I don’t know…” I roll my shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t know.”

His fingers twitch against mine, but his hand settles a second later as he releases a long, slow exhale. “That’s okay, princess,” he promises. “We’ll figure it out later. That adrenaline finally wear off?” Amusement colors his tone. “I figured it would. Why don’t you go to sleep?”

“Don’t want to,” I reply quietly. “That means you win.”

“Then let me win this time.” His voice is a low, almost purr that makes me shiver and remember all the ways he’d touched me not so long ago.Fuck, I will never get that night out of my head, no matter how long goes by.

“I’ll consider it.” As per usual, I strive to have the last word. And this time I consider it a success, since I’m dozing off with my face pressed to the window before I hear if he replies to me or not.

Chapter

Eighteen

When I wake up, it’s not with my face pressed to the glass of the passenger seat window. There are no street lights behind my eyelids, and I can’t hear the low purr of Cass’s car around me.

Instead, my face is pressed against something soft, and there’s a warm, comforting weight on my arm, wrapping over me almost possessively. It’s…strange. But notbad, exactly. But I can’t place the feeling until fingers stroke my hair back behind my ear.

“Cassian?” I mumble, eyes still closed as I stretch my legs out, shoes hitting what feels like the armrest of a sofa.

“Yeah?”

“What, and I mean this as disrespectfully as possible, the hell are you doing?”

His fingers trace my jaw, and he doesn’t stop or pull away. Instead, he chuckles softly, shifting under me. “You don’t remember me waking you up, do you?”

“In the car?”

“Yep.”

I scan over my recent memories, trying to fill in the gaps between falling asleep in his passenger seat and now. But I can’t, no matter how hard I try. “I…no,” I admit finally, opening my eyes and rolling over to look up.

When I see his piercing blue eyes above me in the dimness of the room, it finally hits me that my head is on his lap. His hand moves with me, resettling across my collarbones like he doesn’t want to let me go. “I woke you up and I brought you inside. We cleaned up your cuts.” He picks up my arm, showing me the fresh bandages. “They aren’t that bad, by the way. Your head was hurting, so I gave you something for it.”

My eyes narrow suspiciously. “I swear to God, Cass. It better have been Ibuprofen.”

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