But when I quietly open the door and see her curled on my bed, her blonde hair spread across my pillow and her face finally peaceful in sleep, I know I'm lying to myself.
I close the door and sit in the chair across from the bed, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. I'll just stay for a few minutes, I tell myself. Just to make sure she's really asleep.
I don't examine why the sight of her in my bed, wearing my clothes, stirs something possessive and primal in me. Why I'm suddenly willing to risk Reaper's suspicion to keep her close. Why I gave her my real name when no one has called me Marcus for over a decade.
Some questions are better left unasked. Especially when you're afraid of the answers.
Chapter 6 - Kelly
I'm back in the basement room where they kept us. The air is thick with cigarette smoke and the sour stench of unwashed bodies. Men's voices echo around me, speaking low, but their meaning is clear in their leering smiles and wandering hands.
"Such a pretty bride," Mike says, his thick fingers gripping my chin. "My friends are eager to see if you're worth what I paid for you."
I try to pull away, but my wrists are bound to the chair. The wedding dress they forced me into is already torn at the shoulder, exposing skin that burns where they've touched me.
"Please," I whisper, hating the weakness in my voice. "Don't do this."
He laughs, the sound like broken glass. "But darling, this is your wedding night. A time for celebration."
Someone sets up a camera on a tripod. Another man approaches with a syringe.
"Just a little something to help you relax," Mike says, stroking my hair as I struggle against my restraints. "Soon you won't care what happens to you."
Beyond him, I see Amy watching with glassy eyes, her once-bright smile now a vacant imitation. They've already broken her. Now it's my turn.
"Amy, help me!" I scream, but she just stares, unseeing.
The needle comes closer. I thrash wildly, the chair tipping over. As I fall, the scene shifts. I'm running through the woods, wedding dress catching on branches, tearing my skin, but the footsteps behind me are getting closer...
"Kelly. Wake up."
A hand on my shoulder jolts me from the nightmare. I lash out instinctively, my fist connecting with something solid.
"Fuck!" A deep voice curses as I scramble backward across the bed, disoriented and terrified.
"Stay away from me!" I gasp, before reality begins to filter back.
Not the basement. Not the woods. I'm in a bedroom—Blade's bedroom. And the dark figure I just punched is Blade himself, rubbing his jaw where my knuckles caught him.
"Jesus," he mutters, stepping back to give me space. "That's some right hook you've got."
Shame floods through me as the nightmare recedes, leaving me trembling and damp with sweat. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I thought—I was dreaming—"
"I know." His voice is gruff, almost annoyed. "You were screaming."
I pull my knees to my chest, trying to get my breathing under control. The t-shirt he gave me is twisted around my torso, and I tug it back into place, suddenly aware of how exposed I am.
"Sorry," I say again, unable to meet his eyes. "Did I wake everyone up?"
"No. Just me." He moves to the small desk across the room and flips on a lamp, casting the space in a soft glow that's less jarring than overhead lights would be.
Now that I can see him properly, I realize he's been sitting in the chair across from the bed. Has he been there the whole time? Watching me sleep?
The thought should creep me out, but strangely, it doesn't. Maybe because nothing about this night has been normal, ormaybe because after what I've seen him do, Blade watching me sleep seems like the least threatening thing about him.
"What time is it?" I ask, running a hand through my tangled hair.
"Almost five." He leans against the desk, arms crossed over his chest. He's removed his cut but still wears the same clothes from earlier, though his boots are off.
