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“Yeah.” She laughs. “Because I almost ran you over. So nice of me.”
“Brought me here. Gave me dinner. Pills. Mmm.” Images flash behind my eyelids. Flashes of dreams. “Sofa.”
“Sleep now,” she says and sounds very close by. Something brushes over my brow—her hand, I think. Soft. Warm. “Rest.”
That’s the last thing I hear before I sink into deep sleep.
***
I come awake with a start, pain shooting up my leg. I lift my head and find a crick in my neck. My heartbeat is booming in my ears, racing away and accelerating. I have no fucking clue where I am, and that always makes things worse.
Fuck. It’s dark. Where the fuck am I? Solitary? Or the prison infirmary? Am I alone? Am I safe?
I roll, tangled up in something, and drop.
Arms wind-milling, I try to stop the fall. Oh fuck. Too late. I hit the floor with a jarring impact. The pain hits a split second later, and I cry out.
My leg. Goddammit. I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I taste blood. Fuck me.
“Seth?” A woman’s voice, and I’m still trying to piece everything together. Where the fuck am I?
A light comes on, soft and yellow, and she appears out of the dark.
Manon. Her name floats in my brain, bypassing the numbing pain.
“What the hell happened? Oh God.” She kneels down by my side, sleek dark hair falling over her shoulders to hide her face. “You fell?”
“Sorta.”
My heart is still going a thousand miles an hour. Manon. Her apartment. Not the prison. It’s okay.
It’s okay, Seffers. Breathe.
“Did you hurt your leg? Let me see.”
Not that I’d say no in any case. Especially now, when I can only focus on drawing enough air in my lungs and convincing myself I’m free. Safe. That life is better now. That I haven’t gone back.
Freaking out like this always saps up my energy, and I didn’t have much to start with. Which at least means her intimate touch on my leg as she pushes up the pants to check on my fucked-up knee won’t give me the boner from hell.
“Can you move it?” she asks, and I grit my teeth and try, because yeah, this is important to know.
Turns out I can. Managed not to break it again. Thank God for the small fucking mercies.
“Why don’t you lie back down, and I’ll bring the compress?” she says, tucking a strand of shiny hair behind her delicate ear, and I’m not sure what she’s saying right now. “I’ll bring you more pills, too.”
I lick my lips, repeat what she said in my mind until the words make sense. “I think I’ll sit here for a minute.” Not sure I trust my muscles to cooperate right now. “It’s comfortable.”
She opens her mouth, closes it, then huffs a breath of laughter. “You’re weird.”
Sure. And an idiot, for staying the night.
“I’ll be right back,” she says and climbs to her feet in a smooth, liquid movement that has my dick interested despite the pain and pushing against the inseam of the pants.
Yeah. Not now, boy.
Not ever, dammit.
She comes back with the wrapped-up compress, gently lays it on top of my knee and I’m thankful for the cold seeping through the fire in my flesh. Then, instead of returning to her bed, she sits beside me, on the floor, leaning back against the sofa.
