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STATE OF WITHEREDGE
Roman drove out to Motel 58 with the windows down. Balmy air gusted into the interior of the car, his shirt billowing like a sail. The closer he got to the motel—to the red dot on the navigation screen—the wetter the air felt. And it smelled like…
Rain. That damp, earthen scent was rain.
Roman leaned forward in his seat and peered up at the sky. There were no clouds—just a perfect, star-flecked canvas of black. But there was no mistaking that fragrance, the one thing no one in the world could replicate, no matter how hard they tried.
Another ten minutes passed before Roman caught sight of the glitching neon sign welcoming him to Motel 58. It was just a building, just a shoddy motel, but the sight of it caused his hands to tighten on the wheel. His stomach flip-flopped, and his heart shifted into a pounding sprint.
No one had ever managed to make him feel this way—no one except Shayla Cousens. The incredible, extraordinary, and utterly beautiful woman who’d walked into a house of monsters and set him free.
He pulled into the parking lot, slowing to a stop in one of the stalls along the perimeter, and cut the engine.
This was it. Maybe he was crossing a line, maybe she didn’t want him here. Maybe she would scream at him to leave the minute she saw him. But he wouldn’t know until he tried, and he couldn’t stomach driving away without knowing, so he opened his door and got out.
As he walked, he sensed Sayagul watching from his shadow, the dragon filled with pure, innocent hope. If Shay wasn’t here, if she’d already left, or if she wound up yelling at him to give her space, this would crush them both.
Be positive, Sayagul said gently, a phantom wing curling around Roman’s soul like a hug. I can feel her. She is here. She is hurting.
Roman quickened his steps, his boots crunching on dry earth. He rounded the building, following his gut—the instinct that told him he’d find her out back. By the pool.
He was right. Shay sat on the slick edge, swishing her feet through the water. The pool was so full, it was overflowing. She wore that same yellow bikini that had driven Roman crazy the first time he’d seen her wearing it, her tan lines peeking out under the straps.
She looked up at the sound of his approach, blinking her big, pretty eyes in shock. “Roman?” Water splashed as she got to her feet.
Roman kept walking, not stopping until only a foot separated them.
“What are you doing here?” Shay breathed, staring up at him as if this was a dream. Little did she know, she was his dream.
“I couldn’t do it,” he admitted, his throat tight and aching. “I couldn’t just let you go, knowing how hard this must be for you—how much you’re hurting. If you want me to leave, I will. But I couldn’t not try.” He scanned her face, noting the shine in her eyes. He felt his own burning as he added, “I needed to see you.”
“Roman,” she croaked, the girl who never cried visibly battling the tears welling in her eyes. “I… Roman, I didn’t plan on going back. To Yveswich, I mean. I packed my things.” The words were a blow to the stomach, and for a second, Roman couldn’t breathe.
She’d left, and she hadn’t planned on going back. He was not entitled to her friendship, not entitled to anything Shay had to offer, but he couldn’t stop the hurt, the feeling of betrayal.
Everyone always left. All under different circumstances, and not always by choice, sure, but somehow he always wound up alone.
Shay was scanning his expression. “Does that upset you?”
“If I said ‘yes’, that would be selfish of me. So I won’t say it. You had a life and dreams before me, and I have no right to take those away.” He heard her heart speed up and skip, felt her aura warm and soften. “But I’m going to be selfish about one thing, if you’ll let me.” Shay waited, and Roman said, “Give me one night. Just one. A night where it’s just us—no one else, no regrets, no thoughts wasted on other people. I promised you five days, Shayla. And I don’t break promises.”
Shay’s mouth wobbled. “It’s all so wrong,” she whispered. She inhaled, the deep breath hitching in her throat. “Who are they to tell us who we can and cannot love?”
That four-letter word stopped Roman’s heart. Shay’s face smoothed with a level of surprise that told him she hadn’t meant to say it.
But it didn’t matter, because the word was already out. And those four letters broke the last of Roman’s self-control. Fuck his life, fuck his dad, and fuck anyone who dared to tell him that this was wrong. Shay was right for him, and even if he could only have her for this one night, he’d take it, and he wouldn’t regret a fucking thing.
So he moved, sweeping her into his arms.
And crushed his lips against hers.
Shay didn’t know how it was possible, but every kiss she shared with Roman was somehow better than the one that came before it.
Her legs were around his waist, her hands in his thick hair. She kissed him as if it might be the last time, because she was afraid it would be.
Roman kissed her back with matching intensity—because they both shared the same fear, the same story. Before she’d met Roman and blackmailed him into coming out to this magical desert with her, she had believed the two of them couldn’t be more different.
How very wrong she was. They were both tortured and trapped. Both desperately in need of someone to love and understand them.
