Page 1 of Perfect Convergence

CHAPTER ONE

RHETT

WHEN I WAKE, I’m in an unfamiliar room, my hand resting in something wet and sticky.

I jerk awake. Where am I? How long have I been out?

A bit of light creeps underneath the closed door of the bedroom, and a light, sweet scent hits my nose that reminds me of the past weekend.

Wren. I fell asleep at Wren’s place.

Reaching for the lamp, I turn it on and hold my fingers up to the light—then freeze. Why is there blood on the sheets?

I rip the blankets off my body and jump out of bed. We’ve made plenty of enemies. Would they come after her this quickly? Would they at all?

Fuck. What if they did? And while I was sleeping with her wrapped up in my arms, no less.

“Wren?” I call out. No answer. The clock says it’s not even five yet.

Opening the door, I stalk down the hallway to where a soft light glows in the kitchen and living area.

“Wren, are you okay?” I scan the open space but come up empty.

No. No. We were supposed to be able to keep her safe.

I hear a small moan from the other side of the couch, on the... floor? What the hell?

Coming around, I find Wren on the area rug in something similar to a child’s pose. But she has two throw pillows stacked up under her torso, and I can just barely make out a heating pad pressed to her lower stomach.

“Wren?” Crouching beside her, I place a hand gently on the small of her back.

She yelps, sitting up straight and narrowly missing my chin with the top of her head. When she sees me, she relaxes, pulling her earbuds out of her ears.

No wonder she couldn’t hear me.

“Hi,” she says, a little breathless. “I was trying not to wake you. Did the light bother you? Did I make too much noise?”

I shrug, pushing a few stray hairs out of her face. “I slept for a long time, considering. Are you okay? There’s blood on the sheets.”

She looks at my fingers and the blood staining them, then winces. “Sorry. It was probably gross to wake up to.”

I frown. “More like worrisome. Did you hurt yourself?”

“Oh, no, I...” She looks down at the floor.

And then I realize that she’s still pressing the heating pad to her stomach even though she’s sitting up.

“Oh,” I say at the same time she says, “I got my period in the middle of the night.”

My shoulders sag with relief. “I thought you might be hurt.”

“Hurt?” she laughs. “How would I have gotten hurt?”

I run a hand over my face. This isn’t something I can explain. Maybe one day, but not now—or any time soon. “I dunno. Guess my mind just went there first because I haven’t spent long periods of time around grown women.”

And, come to think of it, I know embarrassingly little about women’s menstrual cycles.

“Mmm.” Wren adjusts herself so she’s sitting on her ass with her back to the front of the couch. She leans her head back onto the seat cushions.

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