Every night for three days, I wake in the grip of a nightmare, drenched in sweat, with screams locked in my throat. Always the same: I'd be in Noah's house again from two years ago, and everything would play out accordingly the way it did that same night, except it's Clarke aiming the gun at Noah and pulling the trigger.
Night after night, just before I pull myself awake, I'd watch him whimper and writhe as the bullet bites into his flesh, draining all life from his eyes.
But this night, it gets too intense that I wake up with a scream, my whole body trembling with fear and terror. I pull the sheets off my body and head out the door, walking straight down to his room to see if he's okay.
I know he is, but the dreams are beginning to get out of hand that I now fear for his safety. What do the dreams mean? Should I be worried? Or is my head just playing tricks on me?
It's midnight and the halls are empty. The door to his room creaks open when I give it a push. He's asleep, of course. I don't want to wake him up, so I quietly crawl in beside him and use the sheets to cover us both.
"Can't sleep?" His deep voice comes beside me.
Shit.
"Had a nightmare."
A beat passes. "Care to share?"
I turn to my side so that we're facing each other. "It was that night again at your place two years ago. He shot you this time, and I couldn't do anything about it."
"You know that's not what happened."
"But what if it was exactly what happened in reality?"
"Don't..."
"No." I cut him off and sit upright on the bed, turning on the light on the nightstand. "You don't get it, do you? I thought I was saving you, when I actually did cause more trouble. You have that mark on your face because of me."
"Well, now I can think of you anytime I see it."
I try not to get carried away. "And... and your brother. If we plead not guilty now, take the case back to court, what about me? The truth will come out."
"Self defense." He simply says, rubbing a thumb around my arm in circles. "He was being too violent, and it was either kill or to be killed. You were the only witness. They'll believe you."
"You make it sound easy." I shut my eyes.
"Maybe because it is."
"I'm scared things might get out of hand, and you'll have to choose between me or your brother."
He grips my arm and turns me to face him, his eyes holding so much intensity it's impossible to focus on anything else. "I choose you. And I'll choose you over, and over, and over. Without pause, without doubt, in a heartbeat. I'll keep choosing you."
I could've sworn my heart stops. For one rushing moment there's no sound, no movement. There's nothing but him, all laid back and calm and beautiful. Unable to hold back, I shift closer and cup his face, leaning in until I find his lips.
Our mouths meet, sweet and hot. Even as my pleasure begins to rise, I sense him holding back. His fingers, sometimes unsteady, skims over me as if he fears I would vanish.
"Don't stop," I plead. "Don't hold back."
He nuzzles at the curve of my shoulder, rubs his cheek to mine. "Someone might walk in."
I hate that he's right. My hand lifts to his shoulders, intending to nudge him away, but my fingers slides into his hair.
I can't stop touching him.
The lazy haze clouds my mind that I forget the main reason I came to his room. "You read John Keats?" For the first time, my eyes finds a book resting on his nightstand.
"I like his poems." Noah picks up the book and flips through the pages. "Don't tell anyone."
"Your secret's safe with me."
I wrap myself in his arms. "Want me to read to you?" He asks.
I feel a sense of peace come over me. How wonderful it is to have Noah holding a book, doing this kindness for me that goes against his nature.
"I don't mind."
"Which one?"
"You choose," I say.
He flips a few more pages, then settles on one. In his deep voice, I hear him read. "You say you love; but with a smile, cold as sunrise in September, As you were Saint Cupid's nun—/ And kept his weeks of Ember— O love me truly."
"Keats was kind of romantic, don't you think?"
"A poet par excellence."
I cling closer to him, letting his scent fill my senses. "Go on."
"O breathe a word or two of fire. Smile, as if those words should burn me—/ Squeeze as lovers should— O kiss, And in thy heart inure me—/ O love me truly."
He continues to read as I feel my eyelids drop. The last thing I hear him say before I finally close my eyes to sleep, rings in my ears till my brain shuts down in a slumber.
"... O love me truly."
_________________
"I feel like an idiot."
"You don't look like an idiot," Lacey tilts her head and studies me from top to toe.
I'm in a long dress— simple, full skirted, nipped just a bit at the waist. The pale gray is quiet, almost demure. Except that Lacey has left the long line of front buttons undone to my thigh.
The tiny silver hoops at my ears are Lacey's contribution again.
"You look," Lacey finally decides. "Like a virgin eager to be sacrificed."
I roll my eyes. "Oh, God."
"That's a good thing." She pats my cheek. "You'll destroy him."
"Noah would think I'd lost my mind if I got all dressed up, then cancel tonight's dinner plan and said I wanted to stay in."
"Wanna bet?"
At Lacey's slow smile, I feel my own lips curving. "Things are kind of complicated now."
"When aren't things complicated?" She takes my arms, turns me face-to-face. "Do you want him or not? Yes or No."
I think of the flutter that has been in my stomach all day. Because he'd been on my mind. "Yes."
Lacey nods. "Now?"
I let out a long breath that I haven't been aware of holding. "Now."
"Good. Because Simone's setting up candles in the suite room already."
"Candles." I drag my feet. "Fancy clothes, pretending I don't want to have dinner, candles in the private hotel room. It feels like I'm setting a trap."
"Of course it does, because that's exactly what you're doing." At the doorway of our room, Lacey stops, put her hands on her hips. "And I guarantee, he's not going to love being caught, he's going to be grateful."