Page 53 of The Grief We Hold

That should draw a line underneath this.

As long as I warn him to keep his fucking hands off her first.

17

RAVEN

When I wake, feelings flood me so fast, I sit straight up.

I slept with Wraith.

And Isleptwith him.

I touch his pillow and it’s cool beneath my fingers. He’s been gone from bed for a while, and I wonder when he crept out and left me.

I shake my head.

Now is not the time to jump to conclusions.

I asked him, specifically, to teach me how to be a one-night stand. I’ve never done it before.

And now I understand why. It feels a little icky.

Especially after everything we did together last night seemed like it was more than sex.

Or maybe that’s just me.

Because the way his body felt next to mine, the way he seemed to know what I needed, the way he caressed me so gently when it was over was perfect.

“Urgh. Stop romanticizing,” I grumble as I throw the covers back.

The cool air hits me as I simultaneously realize I’m naked.

Quickly, I grab my bag and head into the bathroom. After a quick cleanup, I pull on some dark jeans and a soft sweater in a deep burgundy. It takes a few minutes more to braid my hair and throw on some simple make-up.

When I’m done, I pause to study myself.

Do I look any different?

My eyes seem a little clearer.

Do I feel it?

“Can great sex be enough?” I ask myself.

I took a walk on the wild side. Now I have to practice seeing Wraith and hopefully finding some breakfast without getting flustered. I pull my shoulders back, then take a deep breath.

“You’ve got this,” I mutter.

Wraith didn’t say whether it was okay to leave my room this morning, but I decide I’ll be okay.

I walk down the corridor, and my cheeks heat at the sound of someone having sex. It feels voyeuristic, or whatever the right word is for listening to someone rather than seeing them. It’s hot, but also makes me wonder if people could hear Wraith and me. I definitely didn’t remember to be quiet.

A door opens farther down the corridor, and two young women step out ahead of me. One is Karlie. I don’t know the other.

“And don’t forget the coffee,” a masculine voice shouts from inside.

“Breakfast and coffee,” Karlie says. “We’ll remember. Back soon, Butcher.”

---