Page 66 of Sweet Retribution

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ihear his voice.

I feel his touch.

I’m in his arms.

It’s all a dream. I’m hallucinating, but I’ll take it over the pain of dying. Not the physical pain; I’m so numb I don’t feel any actual pain in my body, but my heart aches.

He’ll never know how much he means to me.

He’ll never know I love him.

I curl into the warmth of what I pretend to be Stone even though I’m lying on the cold dirt floor of the forest. I feel his whispers in my ear, his kisses along my temple, and I know it’s a dream.

Stone doesn’t whisper sweetly to me.

Stone doesn’t give tender kisses.

Stone doesn’t use endearments.

I curl into the dream anyway and keep his name on my lips.

***

Istretch, slidingmy legs across the softest fabric, and curl into the feathery pillow under my head. Instead of dirt, the scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air. My dreams continue to get better and better, hitting all my senses. Is this what heaven is like? The only thing making it more perfect would be Stone.

“You’re awake.” A warm hand skims my forehead, brushing the hair off my cheek.

I don’t want to open my eyes and end this dream. “Stone,” I murmur, sinking deeper into the pillowy softness of the bed of leaves.

“Baby,” he says the endearment I’ve only heard him utter when I’ve been unconscious. The ground dips next to me, and I smell him. Clean, fresh, sandalwood and soap. A soft kiss covers my mouth. “Wake up. You need to eat something.”

I fight my eyes, wanting to keep them closed and revel in my sleepy heavenly hallucination forever.

“I also need to get you in the shower. Or bath. It’ll be a lot easier if you wake up.”

I can’t fight my eyelids anymore, and they slowly open. He’s blurry even sitting so close, but it’s him. It’s really him. “Stone?” I rise up to my elbows and blink back the sleepy seeds, straining to get him into focus. “Are you real?”

I reach out my hands and touch his face. It doesn’t disappear like a dream. He places his hand over mind and holds it to his cheek. Tears spill down my cheeks.

“You found me.”

“It’s over.” A sadness comes over his face. He’s holding something from me.

“Antonio?”

“Dead. He’s no longer a threat.”

I let the tears fall, then he hugs me, cradling me to his chest. I don’t know if I’m crying now out of relief he’s gone or because I’m in Stone’s arms.

I don’t know how long we stay like that, me soaking his shirt with my tears. I lift my hand to wipe them away and see the dirt under my nails. I reluctantly draw away and take in the large black T-shirt I’m wearing. It’s Stone’s. My arms are scratched and dirty.

---