Page 45 of Blind Devotion

“Tessa, you have to wake up.”

Her distress only grew, her movements jerkier by the second.

“No. No,” she croaked. “Don’t…”

“You’re having a bad dream.” I cupped her cheek, grazing my thumb along the soft expanse of her skin.

“Don’t…” She whimpered and sobbed. “No…”

“You’re safe.”

My lips pressed lightly to her forehead like last night. It was instinctive. There was this need to take her pain into myself, as if that one light touch could pry the darkness out of her and back into me. It wasn’t enough.

The hospital bed I purchased for her creaked under my added weight as I lay down beside her. Her forehead was creased, and I brushed my thumb down the lines to smooth them out.

“You’re safe,” I whispered again. Ironic that they were words I had said more to her, a target, than anyone else in years.

“Adrien?” She groaned, turning into me. The sheets rustled around us.

“I’m here.”

I swiped a tendril of hair behind her ear. Her breath caught, as if too innocent and pure for that little contact. I wanted to place my hands all over her and gather as many guileless reactions as possible.

“What…what are you doing?”

“You were having a nightmare.”

I kissed her cheek, her nose, her forehead once more, taking pleasure in the way she shivered with each one.

“So you thought you’d climb up here with me?”

I grinned at the feigned outrage in her voice. At least the panic was gone.

“It is much more comfortable than my chair.”

She snorted and tapped my chest. “Uh-huh, sure there, big guy. Snug as a bug in this single bed.”

Warmth radiated where she patted. No pain. No sparking agony. I wanted to haul her against me for more, for that warmth to spread everywhere and erase every unwelcome touch I’d ever felt.

She deserved better than what life had thrown at her, better than Bogdani and the horrors he must have put her through, and definitely better than the hole in her side from my bullet and the constant threats I threw at her.

“If it bothers you that much…” I made to rise.

Her dainty fingers latched onto my bicep, her nails digging in.

“Wait. Don’t leave me. Please. Not yet.”

The anguish in her voice gutted me. It settled heavy in my chest as I lay back down and cradled her head in the crux of my shoulder. My fingers swept up and down her arms in whatI hoped was a comforting gesture. Goose bumps surged over her skin. Good. Bad. No idea. Who was I kidding? I had no experience with this.

There was something addicting about being needed. It was a rush unlike any other. I couldn’t get enough of it. Did I feel bad about manipulating her like this? Not a single bit.

If anyone had told me even a week ago that I’d willingly hold a woman in my arms, I’d have latched a ball and chain to their ankle and shoved them into the sea just to end their miserable existence. Yet here I was, holding Tessa.

“Do you think anyone’s looking for me?” Her whispered voice vibrated against my shirt. “Is it stupid to hope for that?”

“It won’t change what will happen.”

“Guess not.” She yawned. “What is it tonight then? A garrote? A chopping knife? Drugs?”