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“With the Russian?”
“And Damian.”
“Yeah, Marcello told him.” He ran his fingers through my wet hair. “Go to sleep, Cherry. We have a big day ahead of us.”
“But I need music to sleep.”
“Jesus, woman.” He laughed before rolling onto his side to grab his cell phone from the nightstand. “You’re so high maintenance.”
A few seconds later, Act I of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake played through his speaker. The sound instantly calmed me. It was one of the many coping mechanisms the doctor had suggested after my grandfather had brought me to Devil’s Creek.
I’d had non-stop nightmares for most of my life. Therapy helped. The pills also came in handy when I needed them. So did my art.
But I wanted to learn mechanisms to control my PTSD and the awful flashbacks of the past. So the doctor had suggested music therapy. I fell in love with the ballet after Pops took us to see Swan Lake, and from that moment, the soundtrack became the one thing that soothed me other than my twin.
I needed it to sleep.
Bastian curled my body into his muscular chest, his big hand cradling my breast. “Sweet dreams, Cherry.”
As if his words put me under a spell, I was asleep within minutes, drifting to thoughts of my dark prince.
* * *
The next morning, I woke up screaming, the sound of my shrill voice snapping me right out of my nightmare. I held my hand over my heart, unable to catch my breath.
“Aiden,” I whispered.
Someone clutched my shoulder. “Wake up, Cherry.”
Bash.
Letting out a deep breath, I opened my eyes. The candle flickered on the table beside me, casting a glow on the dark room.
I rolled onto my side so I could see him. “Where is my brother? Tell me the truth, Bash.”
“I don’t know,” he said, though it sounded like a lie. “What were you dreaming about, pretty girl?”
With my head on the pillow, I glanced over at him, seeking his beautiful gray eyes for a sign of malice. “Everything that happened last night. That guy… Damian. I need Aiden. You need to help me find him.”
He sat up, bringing me with him, his back propped up against a stack of pillows. “I’ll keep you safe from Damian. As for the other asshole, he’s six feet under.”
Of course, he ignored the most important question.
“My brother, Bash. Where is he? I need to talk to him.”
“Okay, okay.” He clutched my shoulder and kissed the top of my head. “I’ll talk to Marcello. See if he can track down Aiden.”
With one eye open, I peeked up at him. “Promise me.”
“Yeah, I promise.” His fingers slipped through my hair in a soothing motion that helped to slow down my racing heart. “I got you, babe. Don’t worry.” He cradled my head against his chest. “Just go back to sleep.”
It was five o’clock in the morning, but I wasn’t ready to sleep. Not after dreaming about my brother lying dead in a ditch. I couldn’t think straight without Aiden. He’d been missing for weeks, probably since the night I left Brooklyn.
“I’m not tired anymore.”
Bastian stretched out his long legs and moved me between them. I laid my head back on his chest, soaking up this moment. Over the past few weeks, Bastian had surprised the hell out of me. He was becoming someone I needed. Someone I craved so much I couldn’t wait to ditch my virginity.
His fingers trailed up and down my arms, a soft massage that gave me goosebumps. As he leaned forward to suck on my earlobe, the scent of bergamot filled my nostrils. I loved the way he smelled. His usual cologne mixed with the saltiness of the sea. Whenever I was around the Salvatores, I could smell it on them.
