The room is large but strangely sparse. No clutter. No personal touches. Nothing that reveals much about the man who sleeps here. There’s a small book shelf in the corner though. And I notice a dart board with throwing knives on the surface.
A smile lifts my lips,Typical.
My gaze drifts towards the bed and I stop in my tacks at the sight of the man on top of it. My mouth goes dry. Smooth, inked muscle on top of black sheets. He’s not wearing a shirt and the rest of him is under the covers. He looks wrong like this, human, vulnerable.
I move closer until I’m standing beside the king-sized bed. One arm lies thrown across his stomach and his face is relaxedin a way I’ve never seen before. He almost looks innocent until he moves.
His entire body tenses and a muscle jumps in his jaw. The serenity I’d glimpsed disappears. He’s still asleep even as his brow furrows.
“No…”
The word is barely audible. I freeze. Rafaelle shifts again, restless and uncomfortable. Like he’s fighting something in his sleep or someone.
“Tara,” he exhales softly.
The name is rough and he says it with an edge of pain that tugs at my chest. My eyebrows pull together.
Who is Tara?
The question sparks a dozen others within my mind. Is she a sister? An ex? Someone he lost?
The expression on his face makes my chest tight even more. Whatever he’s dreaming about can’t be good. I take a hesitant step closer.
“Rafaelle?”
Nothing. His breathing remains uneven.
The name slips from his lips again, almost desperately, “Tara…”
I hesitate.Should I wake him?
“Rafaelle,” I call again, a little louder this time.
He calms down but still doesn’t wake. The tension slowly drains from his face though. His breathing evens out and the lines between his brows disappear. I blink, watching in surprise.
That was unexpected. Maybe hearing his name helped. Or maybe it was a coincidence.
Either way, he seems fine now. And I really should leave.
Satisfied that he isn’t fighting imaginary demons in his sleep anymore, I start to turn toward the door. But then something catches my eye. A notebook beside his pillow.
My eyes narrow. Surely not.
But on a closer look, I realize it’s my song book. The one I asked him for yesterday. My teeth clench as a wave of irritation rushes through me. Not only is he not supposed to have it, the fact that he’s keeping it so close to him, can only mean one thing.
The idea that he read it makes me want to crawl into a hole and die.
Slowly, I approach the bed.
I’m getting my notebook back.
I lean over him, slightly reaching for the familiar cover. Just as my fingers brush the book however, everything goes wrong. One second I’m standing, the next I’m airborne.
A startled scream leaves me as the world flips upside down. Strong arms close around me and the notebook flies from my hand.
I’m on my back against the mattress and a heavy weight pins me down. Solid steel kisses my throat and every thought vanishes. My heart stops as black eyes stare into mine. He doesn’t even look like he was asleep a second ago. He’s completely alert, predatory.
For one terrifying second, I can tell Rafaelle doesn’t recognize me. I can see the instinct for violence in his gaze, the calculation. Then something shifts and recognition crashes into him.
