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Ily’s corpse broke into light-bright fractures, shattering into stardust.
I dropped to my knees.
My heart turned to coal.
I howled—
“Henri! Henri!”
My eyes snapped wide.
Ily sat on top of me, her thighs straddling my waist, her hands shaking my shoulders.
S-She’s still alive.
I wasn’t responsible for my actions.
For the blistering thankfulness and motherfucking tears stabbing behind my eyes.
Just a nightmare.
Thank fuck, just a nightmare.
Jack-knifing up, I grabbed her around the waist and tossed her onto the bed. I rolled over her. Trapped her beneath me. Imprisoned her where she belonged. Where she would always belong.
With my mind completely gone and my heart utterly broken, I nuzzled her neck, kissed her cheek, then smashed my mouth to hers.
She froze.
She cried out.
She couldn’t stop me.
Another kiss.
Another stolen moment where I didn’t know which one of us would die.
My arms coiled around her until she gasped in pain.
Her slenderness, her heat, her strength—everything about her shattered the forcefield around my depressed-crippled heart, and I couldn’t do it.
Couldn’t handle loving this woman all while she hated me.
Couldn’t kiss this woman all while she accepted my abuse instead of fought me off.
As suddenly as I’d covered her, I ripped myself away.
Breathing hard, I shot out of bed and rubbed sleep and nightmares from my eyes. With trembling hands, I wrenched open the bedside table.
There.
Just where I’d left them.
Two birdcage cufflinks.
Snatching them into my fist, I charged for the door.
I ignored Ily’s sharp question about where I was going.
