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“Be careful, princess. We don’t want you falling over the balcony your first day here,” a teasing voice filters up from below me.
I peek over the railing and find Shade standing at the bottom of a hill beneath the balcony, leaning casually against a lamppost with his arms crossed. He’s dressed in a black T-shirt, matching cargo pants, and boots. Leather straps wind around his wrists, and fingerless gloves cover his hands.
“You look like you’re about to go into battle,” I remark, resting my arms on the railing.
He pushes away from the lamppost, his arms falling to his sides. “Nope. Just dressed for my job.”
“Which is?”
He winks. “Protecting you.”
“From what?”
His grin is all sorts of mischievous. “From the big bad wolves.”
“Hardee har har.” But my insides quiver, reminding me that big bad wolves do exist. “So, what? You’re just going to stand there all day?”
He nonchalantly shrugs. “And go wherever you go.”
“Does that include when I go to the bathroom?” I tease wickedly. “Or when I take a shower?”
A wicked grin starts to rise on his lips, but then his gaze darts over my shoulder and he turns around, whistling to himself.
A heartbeat of a moment later, the fragrance of moonlight and violet kisses my nostrils. I twist around, right as Jules steps onto the balcony.
I don’t know how, but he looks even more gorgeous in the sunlight, dressed in black jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves shoved up. His dark hair hangs in his eyes that mirror the sky, the silver rings on his fingers glint in the light, and his tattooed arms flex as he reaches back to massage his neck.
“I knocked on the door, but you didn’t answer.” His gaze scrolls up and down my body before residing on my eyes. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay and that you were awake.” He seems more nervous than he was last night, less sure of himself.
“I woke up, like, ten minutes ago. I wasn’t really sure where I was supposed to go or what I was supposed to do.” I lift my shoulders, shrugging. “I’m not even sure where I am or how I got here.”
“You’re at my house.” He scratches his arms, drawing my attention to the rows of jagged scars elevating from his forearm. Scars that resemble mine. “I carried you here last night. I know that’s probably what you don’t want to hear, but I tried to wake you up. You were pretty out of it.” He tugs his sleeves down, concealing the scars. “You were whimpering a little bit in your sleep.” He leaves the silent question hanging out there.
“I do that sometimes.” I look away, fidgeting with the leather bands on my wrists.
“Do you have nightmares?” he asks so gently, so cautiously I almost tell him yes.
Almost, but not quite.
I give a half-shrug. “I’m not sure. I barely remember the things I dream about.” I peek at him from the corner of my eye and frown at the faint smile tugging at his lips.
“Except for when you kissed me, right?” he teases.
I roll my eyes. “That happened one time.”
His eyes glint. “And yet, you remember the one time.”
“Only because it was so frightening.” I fake a shudder.
He steps toward me until the tips of his boots touch my toes. “If I’m remembering correctly, which I’m pretty sure I am, you were moaning while I kissed you.” A cocky grin tugs at his lips.
“That wasn’t a moan. It was a terrified gasp.”
“Whatever you say.” He continues to grin, completely full of himself.
“Why does it even matter? So what if I kissed you in some dream? It was just a dream. And you’re the one who keeps trying to kiss me in real life.”
He shrugs, not giving a shit, apparently.
