Page 103 of White Noise

I like that far more than I should.

I’m not naive enough to think it means she wants me. I don’t give a shit about something that soft.

I just fucking like knowing I’ve gotten deep enough under her skin that even unconscious, her body refuses to forget what owns its attention.

She can spend tomorrow crawling through concrete and ripping herself bloody trying to put distance between us.

Tonight, she’s still exactly where I left her.

Mine.

And before morning, I’m going to find out just how fucking deep that goes.

I stay buried in the signal until her breathing settles into the slow, even rhythm of real sleep, then push toward the old monitor balanced on the nightstand.

A few nights ago, getting through would have taken fear, panic, enough attention from Saga to tighten the connection until I could force myself into something solid.

Now the screen barely reacts.

A thin line of white cuts across the glass, my hand passes through, and the rest of me follows without the violent surge that used to announce every attempt.

My feet meet the floor beside her bed without enough sound to wake her.

That alone is fucking satisfying.

Saga sleeps on her stomach with one leg bent beneath the blanket and her face turned toward me, black hair mixed with those pale sections spilling across the pillow.

The mouth that spends most of its waking hours telling me to fuck off is finally quiet, but there is nothing soft about her even like this.

I know exactly what will happen when those eyes open.

She’ll swear, fight, threaten me with something sharp if she can reach it, and convince herself every reaction I drag out of her means less because she hates the thing causing it.

Sleeping strips all of that away.

No VioletHex

No attitude sharpened for an audience.

No conscious effort to control what I get to see.

Just Saga.

I sit on the edge of the mattress, letting my weight sink into it slowly, and her breathing changes almost immediately. It is barely enough to notice, one small hitch before she settles again, but I feel the shift through the signal before I hear it.

I haven’t touched her. Haven't pushed current through the bed or let static crawl across the monitor.

My body is simply close enough for hers to know, and fuck me if that isn’t the hottest

I hold one hand above her back and let the faintest amount of current gather beneath my palm. Her fingers flex against the sheet.

I increase it slightly and watch another change move through her breathing, subtle enough that anyone else would miss it.

But I don’t.

I have spent days learning Saga while she fights me.

I know what fear does to her pulse, how anger tightens her body before she decides whether she is going to run or come at me, and exactly how much current it takes before her nervous system betrays whatever bullshit her mouth is saying.