Page 28 of Kept in the Dark

“But it’s like, a queen at best,” she argues, a twinge of desperation on her tongue. “We’ll… be on top of each other.”

I shrug as though the knowledge does not affect me, but a pounding sensation starts in my head and slowly works its way down my body. “If we were on top of each other, we would not be sleeping.”

“Kind of my point,” she grumbles. “You know what I mean.”

“My safe house, my bed. If you do not wish to sleep next to me, you may sleep on the floor. But you may not sleep up on the couch, where you can easily be seen through the windows.”

It is a bluff, one I hope she does not call. I will not allow her to sleep so close to the exit or out of my sight.

She worries at her bottom lip in indecision, and my hand flexes as I stop myself from grabbing her to put it betweenmyteeth instead.

“I’m not sure how my back would handle a night sleeping on the floor.”

I nod. I am in excellent physical shape, and my back could handle it, but I will not tell her this. She will be sleeping in this bed, and I am more eager than I care to admit to have her soft warmth pressed against me.

Her eyes cut to me, flashing first with curiosity, and then suspicion. “Just sleeping, right? No funny business.”

There is nothing funny about this raging need to be inside of her, but I understand this saying well enough.

Her reticence is ridiculous, as if there is something particularly arousing about lying next to each other. If I wanted to have her, I would do it on every vaguely flat surface in this safe house, not just the bed. Beds are for sleeping.

“It has been a trying night. We are both exhausted.”

That at least she can agree with. She nods, eyes drooping, then scoots up the mattress. She settles flat on her back, wedged up against the polished pine paneling with her knees slightly bent, and I am pleased I do not need to tell her she will be the one against the wall. She is stiff and still as she listens to me move through the room, changing from the dress pants into something more comfortable. This shirt is a loss, and I can tell the material has fused to the wound. At least that means it has clotted, and I can deal with it later.

After I flick the light off, I move to settle next to her. I lay back slowly, rubbing my eyes and then scratching my scar through my hair. Shoulder to shoulder without enough room between us for a single piece of paper, I am nearly hanging off the side of the bed, and I know she is squished against the wall. This position will not hold. She will turn in her sleep, and the instant she does, I will too. My entire body is tense in anticipation.

The silence does not last much longer than a moment or two. I can practically feel the fact that her eyes are wide open. “So… we’re safe?”

“For now.”

“And what’s the plan?”

“The plan is to sleep.”

“I mean after that.”

I sigh and stretch my free-hanging left arm under my head, seeking a comfortable enough position until I can roll to my side and curl around her softness. “I am working on it.”

“Yeah, okay… fair enough. I guess we’re both pretty exhausted.” As if to prove her point, her voice rounds into a yawn on the last words.

She lies still for a moment, then shifts around, moving her hands from her sides to rest on her stomach, then back to her sides. She shimmies higher onto the pillow, then reaches back to beat at another lump.

“Nicole, go to sleep,” I grit out.

“I’m sorry! I’m uncomfortable. Aren’t you uncomfortable?” she whispers, exasperated.

“Yes.” I feel her vindication at that, so I slyly add, “I normally sleep nude.”

She makes a huffing exhale through her nose, and it makes me smile into the darkness above us. “Go to sleep, Dimitri,” she says tartly.

10

Nicole

The embodiment of violence.

As the sleep fog gradually lifts, I lie still and relaxed with my eyes closed until one thing—one remembered, urgent thing—shakes me fully awake.