“Three days,” I whisper as my wings carry me into the night. “In three days, we’ll find out if I’m right about you…”
CHAPTEREIGHT
BANE
THREE DAYS LATER
“What is all this?”
Fallon’s soft voice echoes through the dining area of her room, drawing my attention away from the stove and to the curvy blonde wearing just a towel.
I snuck in while she was in the shower, hoping to surprise her with breakfast.
Only now I’m the one feeling surprised by her half-dressed appearance. It’s not like I haven’t seen her this way before, but every time feels like a new experience.
The towel isn’t even that revealing, the fabric covering her torso and thighs.She could actually wear that towel as a dress, her short stature making—
“Bane?” she prompts, cutting off my musings. “What are you doing?”
“Oh.” I clear my throat and glance at the table of food before refocusing on the skillet in front of me. “I’m making you an American-style breakfast.”
I use the spatula to flip the eggs and sigh in relief to find them perfectly cooked and not overdone. I want this breakfast to be flawless for Fallon. Not because it might be her last—I refuse to even acknowledge that possibility—but because I want to give her a moment of normalcy.
Or at least a moment of peace.
If that’s possible, anyway.
“American-style breakfast?” she repeats, wandering over to review the items on the table. “You and Nox usually just do coffee and an egg sandwich.”
I lift a shoulder. “Nox told me you didn’t eat much last night, so I figured you would need a bigger meal this morning. And I was feeling nostalgic, so I made pancakes and eggs.”
“And bacon,” she muses, snagging a piece from a plate on the table.
“And bacon,” I echo. “Except I made that English-style instead of American-style.”
“Mmm, I approve.” Her words are followed by a moan as she slides into a chair at the table, apparently completely at ease in her towel.
I try not to notice.
Try and fail.
Because even though the white fabric engulfs her short frame, I know there’s nothing but skin beneath it. And a twisted part of me really likes fantasizing about those luscious curves of hers.
It’s wrong. She’s technically my ward, the one I’ve been assigned to guard and protect. But the forbidden nature of it all just makes me want her more.
I could write a book about the psychological reasons behind my unhealthy obsession. However, knowing that does nothing to dispel my interest.
There’s just something about Fallon Doyle that enchants me, and it’s been that way from the first moment I met her.
She’s devastatingly broken. And yet, she’s utterly perfect at the same time.
An alluring little flame,I marvel, my eyes once again taking in her exquisite beauty.My forbidden temptation.
“So what made you feel nostalgic?” she asks before taking another piece of bacon. “Are you missing being a professor?”
I’ve told her about my history, mostly because I want her to know I’m here if she needs someone to talk to. However, she rarely confides in me, even after suffering one of her many nightmares.
Occasionally, she’ll summarize part of the night terrors—which are actually memories of her time with Klas—but she typically dismisses them and moves on.
