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“Jesus, nothing can stop you, huh?”
He laughs. “If you want me to stop, I can stop.”
I get to my feet. My legs are a little shaky and I’m having a hard time getting started. I want to go and check on Misha, but I don’t know where he is. I rub my eyes, my vision getting blurrier as I do.
Malon immediately stands up, his hand wrapped around my forearm. “You okay?” he asks. “I got you.”
“I’m fine. Just feeling a little tired.”
“Yeah, the exorcism seemed pretty brutal. The guys were saying you were going to need a lot of rest.”
“What else were they saying?”
“Nothing I should repeat. You need to speak to them.”
“Since when do you care about protecting their privacy?”
“I really don’t care about that,” he says. “I care about you. I don’t want your feelings to get hurt or to attempt to have this conversation with you.”
“Sounds intense.”
“It might not be,” he replies. “Just tell them how you feel, Trine.”
I cock my head, about to ask him about it, when I hear footsteps coming up the steps. They slowly approach us as we walk toward the door.
Misha slides the door open. There are dark shadows under his eyes, his hair looks disheveled, and there’s a deep cut on his chin. I haven’t noticed it before, but it looks nasty. I think it’s going to scar.
Malon lets go of me and I approach Misha, padding toward him slowly. I’m barefoot, the carpet under my feet is surprisingly cold, and I can feel it between my toes. I can feel Malon’s gaze, which is glued to me. I wonder what he expects me to do.
“Hey, “ Misha says. He’s still watching me, barely moving. I can’t read his expression. Half his face is hidden by shadows so it’s hard for me to read his expression. Something about this moment feels really fragile, like if I break eye contact with him he’s going to immediately crumble.
There’s a part of me that wants to protect him. Needs to protect him.
He’s the one who finally looks away from me, taking a giant step toward me, wrapping his arms around me in a huge bear hug. He holds me so close I practically can’t breathe, his face buried in my hair. “I was so worried about you,” he says. “How are you doing now?”
“Pretty good now that I can breathe.”
He laughs as he holds my hands. “Seriously, though,” he says. “If there’s anything you want to talk about, you just tell me.”
“I want to talk about normal things,” I reply. “I want to talk about what we’re going to eat for dinner and I want to fight about chores. I want to, I don’t know, figure out how this whole thing is going to work. If I never talk about demons again, it’ll be too soon.”
He frowns, a wrinkle appearing between his brows. “I don’t know if I can give you that.”
“Misha,” I say. “I don’t need you to give me anything. I just want you around. That isn’t too much to ask, is it?”
“No,” he replies. “That isn’t too much to ask.”
He crosses the space between us, one arm slung around my waist, and presses a kiss against my lips. It’s soft at first, sweet almost, until he breathes hard against me and deepens the kiss.
His tongue wars against mine for a few seconds, until he’s exhausted, and he pulls away from me. A crooked finger on my chin slides toward my lips. He traces the outline of my lower lip with his ring finger. I breathe heavily against him.
“I was so worried about you,” he says. “I thought I was on the verge of losing you and I…”
“What?”
“I kept thinking about what I was going to do without you,” he says. “Honestly, it was all terrible.”
“Is that why you weren’t here when I woke up?”
