to the edge, I won’t fall off.
I need to be with him.
I need him to know he isn’t alone.
That’s important to me.
For so long, he’s been alone, and I haven’t been here for him.
That’s about to change.
I swallow, gulping down my nerves as I kneel on the mattress. Half-expecting him to wake up, to leap for me, to go for my throat, I’m surprised when he doesn’t, and I release a shaky breath.
The second my head connects with the pillow, I turn on my side and watch him.
As I watch, he calms.
That can’t be a coincidence, can it?
I frown at him, observing as his breathing starts to even out. He rolls onto his side, curls into a ball, the fetal position so tight that it’s incongruous on a man of his size.
But he’s turned toward me.
The more he calms, the more I can look at him, my tears evaporating.
The dream leaves him so suddenly that I can barely believe my eyes. Like it never happened, he starts to stretch out. If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I’d never have guessed it.
As he relaxes, the younger Savio appears. He’s less grim, more like the first picture I ever saw of him, and not unlike that first time, my visceral response to him is off the charts.
And something else hits me.
Without the cloud of fear, misery, terror, and anger dampening everything, and my own heartache staining the world in gray, his scent crashes into me.
Absolutely overwhelms me.
It’s like a punch to the gut.
In a good way.
It’s strange that, until now, I barely scented anything. My super sniffer makes me feel like a bloodhound on the trail of a dead body. But here, in this house?
It’s like no one’s home.
Like his spirit drifts through it and nothing else.
But now, in his bed? There’s no avoiding his scent, and it’s such a sweet and pure essence that heat begins to boil away inside me, bubbling like a volcano needing to erupt.
I’ve never wanted a man like Savio. I’ve never had the feelings before.
The doctors say my delusions were so powerful that they would overtake everything else, and considering my life before, it fits that I’d find no other attractive.
Savio was an ideal.
A man I held up in my mind’s eye as perfect. He was a martyr on a mission that put him in jeopardy. He was tortured and abused for his pains.
He was like a saint in my eyes, a stark contrast to the sinners I came into contact with every day.
Was it any wonder I idolized him?
Is it any wonder that now, even though my situation has changed, all I can still think about is him?
I know he’s dark, but I’m the light he needs.
Reaching out a shaky hand, I touch his chest. I’m not surprised there’s blood on the sheets, and though I regret his pain, I’m not averse to that.
The metallic tinge is in the air, shadowing his rich and musky scent, but it’s visceral. Even his blood belongs to me, and I’ll soak myself in it if it makes me smell like him.
My heart thuds, pounding deep and low as I let my fingers trail over the scant whorls of hair on his chest.
I can feel his heart.
It’s slow, rhythmic. He’s in deep repose.
I want to touch more of him.
I want to explore him.
But I can’t.
I won’t take his choice away.
I won’t hurt him.
My lip slips between my teeth as I stare at his abs. His body is perfection. I mean, I knew that before, but even in sleep? How can he have so many muscles? And these aren’t the simple ones of a man who works out.
He trains.
Hard.
I noticed before how his veins were thick and raised, and I knew that was a combination of adrenaline and pain flushing throughout his system. But now, I wonder if that has to do with how hard he exerted himself.
The cuts were deep. Like tracks on his flesh.
They were torn too. Rips and jagged edges that don’t align with a regular lash.
It wouldn’t be the first time someone used barbs for a deeper cut, for a better sting. But Savio had to push it.
His body gleams with vitality, so different from his withering soul.
Slowly, I move my hand from his chest, because I know temptation will hit me and I’ll want to touch him more.
The need to roll over into his arms, to push myself into him, to press every inch of me against every inch of him is so strong,