She hesitates, then takes it, chewing slowly. Color returns to her cheeks as she eats, her body relaxing by degrees against mine.
“We’re going to handle this how you want,” Jude says. “As long as you tell us what you need.”
She nods again, more firmly this time. “I will.”
Ryker sits on the edge of the chair across from us, elbows on his knees. “We’ll rotate. No one gets overwhelmed. No one does anything you don’t ask for.”
“And if you change your mind,” Jude adds, “you say the word. We stop.”
She leans back just enough to look at all three of us. Her gaze is clear now, even if her body still hums with restless energy. “I trust you.”
The room goes quiet with the weight of that.
She finishes the sandwich slowly, then sighs and settles fully into my lap, cheek pressed to my chest, blanket pulled up to her chin. Her breathing evens out, heavy with exhaustion and heat.
I kiss the top of her head.
Ryker watches us with something like awe in his eyes. Jude reaches out and tucks the blanket more securely around her legs.
We’re not rushing this. We’re here. We’ll get her through it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Norah
I should be eating.
That is what everyone keeps saying, and I understand the words on a logical level. Protein helps. Calories help. My body needs fuel.
I have the sandwich in my hands, warm bread pressing into my palms, the smell of turkey and salt curling up toward my face.
But all my blood has gone somewhere else.
It’s rushing low and hot, dragging my thoughts with it, leaving my head light and fuzzy and useless. Every bite feels like work. Chewing takes effort.
Swallowing feels like a distraction from the one pulsing, overwhelming truth that keeps flashing through me on repeat.
Need.
Need.
Need.
Dorian’s chest is solid under my cheek, his heartbeat slow and maddeningly calm compared to the frantic rhythm inside me.
I can feel it through my palm where he pressed my hand earlier, like he wanted to remind me that he’s real. That he’s here. That I’m not floating off on my own.
It helps. It also makes everything worse.
His scent wraps around me, familiar and safe and achingly intimate. My body reacts before my brain can catch up, warmth pooling, muscles tightening, a low ache blooming that makes my toes curl under the blanket Jude tucked around me.
I try to focus on the sandwich again. I really do.
I take a bite and barely register the taste. My jaw moves on autopilot while my attention skitters away, pulled by the brush of Ryker’s footsteps in the kitchen, the quiet clink of a plate, the sound of Jude breathing somewhere close by.
Every noise feels too loud. Every presence feels too close and not close enough all at once.
My thoughts slip sideways.
