I am here.

She burrows in deeper against my neck. I savor the feel of her in my arms like this. It’s foreign but it feels right.

She’s still shivering, so I lie down, taking her with me and then I bring the sheet up and over to cover us. She curls gratefully into my embrace.

Her screams quiet to infrequent whimpers, and then to the soft in-and-out of sleep breathing.

I stay perfectly still for a long time. I don’t want to leave her.

And then she turns around in my arms so that her face is only an inch from mine. Her head rests against my arm and one hand falls over my chest.

Only then does she finally settle for real.

Tangled up in the sheets with our legs entwined, this infuriating girl cradled in my arms—it is the most intimate I’ve been with a woman in years.

I feel so fucking exposed.

I’ve already given Esme too much power by letting her inside my head. And yet, it crosses my mind that power in a relationship seems suddenly overrated.

That’s the most fucked-up part of all of it.

She’s making me question everything.

I need to clear my head.

I need to get control of this goddamn situation.

Or else, I’m going to come undone.

I can already feel it happening.

33

Esme

The Next Morning

I wake up feeling strange.

I had nightmares last night. I was panicked. Scared.

I remember feeling so desperately alone that I felt as though I was drowning in it.

And then… it had just stopped. Like someone had pulled me out of those dark waters.

Was that real? Was any of it?

I glance around the room, but nothing seems different.

I look at the bed, but the chaotic spread of the sheets doesn’t give me any clues.

As I sit up however, Artem’s scent floods my senses. Instinctively, I stop, close my eyes, and breathe it in.

That is definitely his scent—musky, woodsy. All raw sex appeal and quiet strength.

I wrack my brain for snippets of memory that can give me a better idea of what exactly had happened last night, but I keep drawing blanks.

It’s all just messed up. Fuzzy.