Page 45 of Fear No Hell

Sam

Lila’s breaths are coming fast—way faster than they should be—and she’s covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

Slowly, I slide my hand out of hers and settle my fingers over the pulse point in her trembling wrist. For the next minute, the only sound in the room is her rapid breathing as I count out her heartbeats.

“Hey, sweetness, your heart rate is really high.” I manage to sound calm even though I’m a mess inside.

I went from a blinding orgasm—case in point, I’m not actually sure I can see out of my left eye—into insane lust and now…

well, now, I’m split. I want to fight her demons.

Make all of this right for her, so she never has to be afraid of it again.

The other side of me is forcibly reminding me I need to help her get her heart rate down. I don’t know the standard bpm for deities, but I’m willing to bet it’s not tachycardic.

“I-I-I—” she stammers before swallowing shallowly. “What’s happening to me?”

“Well, right now I’m pretty sure you’re having a panic attack.

” I grab the first piece of movable fabric I can find, which is, apparently, the shirt I abandoned before I passed out, swipe my torso clean of cum and sweat, and toss the dirty clothing in the vague direction of the hamper.

My attention is back on Lila before I hear it hit the floor.

“So our first priority is getting you breathing normally again. That’ll help bring your heart rate down. ”

Her eyes are startlingly wide in her too pale face as she jerks her head up and down in a nod.

“Okay, so tell me five things you can see.” I start with my favorite mindfulness technique.

“You. The curtains. An empty sleeve of Ritz crackers. The nightstand. The wrinkled sheets."

“That’s five. Let’s do four things you can touch now.”

She’s moving, crawling into my lap and wrapping herself around my naked body before I can blink. Her arms slide around my shoulders and cling tight.

“Okay.” Shifting her body to distribute her weight in my lap, I shimmy us up the bed until I can rest my back against the headboard. “Four things you can touch now. You’re not getting out of this one, sweetness. Give me the four.”

A sniffled giggle comes from the vicinity of my neck before she says, “The muscles shifting in your back. The rub of my t-shirt’s hemline. The softness of the sheets. Umm…” She trails off before blurting out, “Your dick.”

Jesus fuck. Don’t be creepy, you horny bastard.

“That’s four. You’re doing so well,” I purr as I will the erection from hell—which makes no sense anyways because I literally just came, how in the holy hell am I still hard—to go away. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t listen. “We’re almost done. Now three things you can hear.”

“Your heartbeat. The air conditioner blowing. The wind outside.”

“Good girl,” I say as I run a hand over her hair. “Now two things you can smell.” Please don’t say my cum, please don’t say my cum. I might actually die or come again spontaneously if you say you can smell my cum.

“Spearmint. From your toothpaste.” She breathes in deeply, the inhalation more smooth than it had been originally. “Copper.”

Now that she says it, I can smell copper too, but I don’t know where it would be coming from. From your dream. All that blood. I bury my confused frown in her shoulder and give my final instruction into her smooth, golden skin. “Now one thing you can taste.”

“Cinnamon.”

“You did amazing, sweetness,” I say as I lay my index and middle fingers over her carotid. Even without counting the beats of her pulse, I know it has slowed to normal. “How you doing?”

“Better. I’m doing better.” She draws away with a frown. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I don’t even remember coming upstairs. All I remember is—” Her brow furrows as she goes quiet.

“All you remember?” I prompt.

“A dream,” she says slowly as if she's trying to puzzle through her memory of it. “You were there. And there was blood. So much blood. And we—” Her cheeks go blazing pink.

“And we had life-changing cave sex?” I finish, phrasing it as a question, even though I already know the answer.

“Mmhmm,” she hums in agreement. “How did you know?”

“I think I had—no, I know I had—the exact same dream.” At my words, her body goes tense in my arms.

“What? No!” Her head is shaking back and forth so hard that strands of her hair are slapping against her cheeks. “No, no, no, no—”

“Lila, what’s going on?” I sweep the hair stuck to her sweaty cheeks away, tucking it behind her ears before sliding my hands along her jaw to cup her face. She doesn’t respond to my question, so I push again. “I need you to talk to me.”

“I’m ruining you,” she whispers. “Whatever’s happening to me, it’s infecting you too.”

“Hey.” Lightly, I tap a thumb against her jaw to center her. “Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

“Did you ever have nightmares like this before I came here and started going all—” She gestures to herself. “Tattooed and murdery?”

“Sweetness. I need you to listen to me. You listening?” She tilts her head, pale blue eyes rimmed in red from where she has been crying.

“I’ve had nightmares ever since the day I found Arthur in the attic with you.

It actually made my surgery easier because I wasn’t thinking about losing my leg.

All I could think about was you. Oh, and just in case you were wondering, my therapist called it an ‘unhealthy coping mechanism’—” I make scare quotes around the very real phrase my therapist said to me at least once a week when I was going to regular sessions—“To focus on a so-called 'make-believe woman' who needed my help. She was a real fucking treat.” I chuckle, zero humor in the sound. “And yeah, the dreams I’m having now are way different than those. I don’t know how or why we’re sharing them either.

They're better than the nightmares I used to have, though, and, honestly, I would rather have you—and the dreams and whatever else comes alongside all of it—than have none of it.”

Her hands flex on my shoulders. “But—”

“No buts,” I say firmly as I rest my forehead against hers. “I want you here in the home we’re building together. You, me, and the pest in our basement that we’ll eventually kill. I want you to be the person I lose my virginity to. I want to spend the rest of my fucking life with you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to. You’re not used to having someone who wants you in every facet of their life.

” I brush a thumb over her cheek. “But I want that with you. And until that feels real to you and you realize I’m not going anywhere, until you realize just how sure I am about us, about all of this, I can understand enough for the both of us. ”

She gapes at me.

“I’m as sure of this as I was about offering to put you on the deed to the house.

” The words I’ve been trying to bury because she’s not ready to hear them yet are rising in my throat.

They’re strangling me, and I know I can’t swallow them down this time.

“Please stay, Lila. Let me figure out what’s happening.

I can call my mom and see if she knows anything.

” Let’s add it to the pile of about a thousand unanswered calls and texts I've made to her since she implied Arthur isn't my father. “I’ll research everything from our dreams. Just… please don’t leave. Please.” My voice cracks.

“Why would you do that? You’re risking everything for me, and I don’t—I don’t understand why.”

It’s almost a relief when those three little words finally fall out of my mouth.

“Because I love you, sweetness.” Based on the way her mouth drops open with a gasp, it seems like it’s a surprise.

Huh. I didn’t think I was being all that subtle.

“I love you more than life itself—mine or anybody else’s.

And I’m not sure I’ll survive if you leave because you think you can keep me safe that way.

The best thing for me is for you to stay here. ”

She’s still staring at me in shock.

“You don’t have to say it back if you’re not ready or you don’t feel it.” I tangle a hand in her hair and drag her into me, so all I can feel is her. “I just wanted you to know."

A small sob reaches my ears. A gasp. And then it’s like the floodgates open, her perfect body shaking against mine as her tears soak my skin. She doesn’t say anything as she weeps into my shoulder, the sounds as ragged as if they were being torn from her.

I stroke down her back, soothing passes of my palms over the soft cotton of her t-shirt, as I murmur reassurances that make no sense to me and she probably doesn’t hear.

Eventually, her tears taper off, and all that’s left is my Lila shivering in my arms, still physically caught up in the emotions raging through her.

For the second time, I redistribute her weight, so I can shimmy downwards, this time shifting to lie down.

“This okay?” I ask, the question loud in the quiet despite how softly I said it.

She nods jerkily as her head settles into the crook of my neck.

As I drag the covers over us, I press a kiss to the top of her head.

As her trembling slows to a stop, I wrap my arms around her waist. As her breathing drops off into sleep, I tell her I love her one more time.

And as I doze off for the second time today with the afternoon sun sharp on the floor under the black-out curtains, it becomes crystal clear to me that without Lila, there is no me.