Page 92 of Heimlock

“Um, so … where do you plan on sleeping?” I ask, eyeing the pillow in his hand.

He lifts it with a shrug. “Where would you like me to sleep?”

I look around my mostly empty apartment. “I don’t know.”

“Would you like to know my thoughts?”

“Sure?”

Trinte grabs a blanket from a backpack. “I think it would be wise for me to sleep in your room in case you need help in the middle of the night. But I can also sleep in the kitchen if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

The thought of making him sleep near the refrigerator almost makes me laugh. Making him sleep in the miniscule hallway or bathroom would be cruel. At least the bedroom offers enough space, and he would be close enough to help.

“Okay, you can sleep in my room.”

His neutral expression doesn’t break. “Are you sure? You can change your mind at any time.”

“I’m positive.”

“Then it’s settled.” He motions to my lone chair. “Go sit. I’ll make you something quick to eat.”

36

After making us some sandwiches, I carefully helped her put on one of the bras. It’s unusual, helping a woman put on a bra. I swear my knuckles still tingle from the process.

It’s a relief when she insists on using the bathroom on her own. This is already so far out of my comfort zone; half the time I want to peel off my skin and scream. Helping her on the toilet might send me over the edge.

I’m fairly certain she’s feeling the exact same way. We’re two terrified predators who have never been permitted a kind hand; there are quiet limits to it all.

Kyrielle’s yawning up a storm by the time I help her into the closet and onto the bed. She grumbles about sleeping on her stomach and reluctantly asks me to help her organize pillows. When she’s situated, I lay out two blankets and pillows for my makeshift bed a few feet away. Not close enough to touch, but I’ll be able to immediately help if she needs it.

Upon her request, I lock all the front door deadbolts, as well as the ones in the bedroom. I refuse to point out that I would shred anyone stupid enough to break-in. It’s not actually about defense — I know that better than anyone.

Never in my whole life have I slept through the night near or next to a woman. While a normal person would be afraid of possibly drooling, farting, or stealing the blankets … I’m terrified of waking her with one of my nightmares. It would be smart to warn her, but I'm foolishly hoping that the one thing that happens when I'm not asleep in my own bed won't happen tonight.

When it’s time, I turn off the light and lay down on a blanket, pulling the second one over me. It’s dark, but not so much that I can’t see her face and heat signature. She’s watching me, arms resting under her head. Her pupils are wide and fathomless. In the dark, she has a faint glow. Just like a firefly.

I’m obsessed.

“Trinte?”

I roll onto my side to face her. “Mmhmm?”

“Thank you.”

My lips purse. “Nothing to thank me for.”

She grimaces as she shifts. “Of course there is. You stepped up, even though I’m sure this is extremely uncomfortable for you.”

Understatement of the decade. “You needed help. I like to help people.”

In the shadows, Kyrielle nibbles on her lower lip. “Why do you like to help people?”

Knowing she doesn’t have the same sense of sight, I’m comfortable not hiding the shame on my face. Curling into myself a little more, I close my eyes. “Why wouldn’t I want to help people?”

“Who helps you?”

Three words equal to three knife slices. “Those are two questions, Firefly.”