Page 153 of Reckless Hearts

I whirl, and my face tightens.

Shit.

Dahlia and I weren’t hit.

But Allison Whitley is now lying on the ground, motionless, with blood rapidly pooling beneath her.

Fuck.

35

DEIMOS

Sometimes,her lips move in her sleep.

When I first noticed it, I worried that it was nightmares, or her reliving some of her past trauma. But as time’s gone on, I’ve realized that she’s almost always smiling when she does it.

I don’t think that means nightmares.

I grin when she does it now, the early morning light filtering across her face through the curtains. Sitting on the edge of our bed, I tuck a lock of her dark hair behind her ear as my heart swells in my chest.

I could have lost her.

I almostdidlose her.

And it’s that dancing on the horrible edge of what-if that has me looking at her now in an even deeper way than I have before.

I’ve loved Dahlia Roy since the moment she first caught my attention. I’ve known that for a while, even if I kept it buried deep. I loved her when she didn’t know who I—the writer of the book she was conversing with—was.

I loved her when I hated her.

Now I think I’m realizing there’s more than just love. There’s a higher level, past infatuation, past even that feeling your heart gets when it finds its second half.

Obsession.

I’mobsessedwith Dahlia. I always have been, and I’m quite sure I always will be. Not obsessed in the sense of stalking her or looking into her dorm room from a tree.

I’m obsessed with everydetailof her. Every secret smile. Every look. Every way her brain ticks and thinks.

Every fleeting moment I have with her.

Her eyes open and her lips pull into a sleepy smile as she looks up at me.

“Hey…” she whispers quietly in a way that utterly disarms me.

There aren’t any other walls to come down. Not anymore.

She’s destroyed all of mine.

All my defenses. All my armor.

I’m all hers now, to do with what she will.

“You’re dressed already,” she murmurs, her brow furrowing.

“Yeah, I have some work I need to do. Be here when I get back.”

She grins wider. “That doesn’t sound like a question.”

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