Page 91 of Gunnar

“You should go back to bed,” he says.

I stare at him. “Why?”

“Because I know it’s a lot. And you need time.”

“For what?” I ask innocently.

“Sleep, Alexandria,” he says.

There’s no world in which I’m sleeping after this, but apparently neither of us feels the need to point that out.

I take a step back along the hallway.

At my doorway, I stop.

He’s still standing where I left him, broad shoulders filling the hall, eyes on me now without apology.

“Did you mean that?” I ask quietly. “What you said to Orson?”

His expression doesn’t even flicker.

“Yes.”

The word hits just as hard as before.

I push the door open and step inside.

Tabitha is on the bed, tail puffed, clearly offended by the disruption. I shut the door and turn the lock with clumsy fingers.

For a few seconds I just stand there in the dark, hand still on the handle.

Then I lift my fingers to my neck, right where he touched me.

My skin is hot.

My heart is trying to break out of my chest.

Mate.

The word should terrify me. Maybe it does. A little.

But underneath that is something worse.

Something warmer.

Something that makes me sit down hard on the edge of the bed and stare into the dark. Everything feels different.

Like something has shifted and won’t shift back.

I lie down slowly, every inch of me awake.

Tabitha stomps over me in protest and curls against my stomach.

I stare at the ceiling.

I can still feel his hand at the side of my neck.

I turn onto my side and pull the blanket up, though it does nothing for the heat in my face.