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I go across with huge strides and lean over her. I makecertainher chest rises and falls. This isn’t because I have some kind of attachment to her. I only did this to my siblings once or twice.
Once or twice a night, I mean. Cut way back once I understood my presence near them was a risk factor for an untimely death. Now I’m down to once every two or three weeks.
I could wake her up, but…
Let her think I might soften for her. Let her hope. Just for the night.
I get a pillow from the bed, then hover over her until I can get the right angle. Lily doesn’t wake up when I lift her head and slip the pillow underneath. I cover her with a linen sheet, folded in half. She stirs, burrowing into it, but doesn’t open her eyes. A throw blanket goes last.
Then it’s time for me to go back to the couch. I turn off the cabin lights with an app on my phone, kick my shoes off, and stretch out.
I lay there in the dark, listening to the wind whip through the leaves in the branches and the soft, even sound of Lily breathing. Behind all of that, very faint, is the sound of my memories. Mason screaming. Remy crying. A pained hiss from Gabriel.
I’m still awake when the sun rises.
I never fall asleep.
12
LILY
Iwake up in a bed.
Crap.My plan failed. I was going to get the highest grade possible in captivating my kidnapper, then run away when he fell asleep. The last thing I remember is sitting at the window seat, a wide, excited grin on Jameson’s face, and then…
Nothing.
I peek one eye open and discover I’mstillin the window seat. Oof. It’s not big enough to stretch out in, and I slept curled up in a ball.
As soon as I understandthat,I can’t stay all folded up anymore. I sit up and stretch, keeping the blanket gathered around me. The blankets. There are two. He double-covered me and brought a pillow.
What kind of weirdo mind game is this?
I’m still tired from how long he made me stay up last night. The thought of having another orgasm makes me want to cry. But I’m nothurt. And he made me a little bed.
My body is heavy and slow, which makes sense given the activities of last night. Also, what time is it? Late, I think. The sky outside doesn’t give much of a hint. Thick, gray clouds cover every inch of the sky.
Footsteps come from the direction of the bedroom, and Jameson comes back into view. His hair is in a breathtaking man-bun. Like…I can’t breathe. Then Icanbreathe, and it’s bad. It’s awful.
He smells even better fresh out of the shower.
Some men use soap that must act as a homing beacon for people who get turned on by massive amounts of Axe body spray, but not Jameson. What was the name of his body wash? It had a pear scent. Green tea? I liked it last night.
I love it now.
It goesexceedinglywell with his skin.
He doesn’t seem to notice that I’m awake. Jameson goes into the kitchen, his mind clearly elsewhere, and steps briefly out of sight.Tweet-tweet-tweet-tweet,sings his bird. It sounds thrilled to see him.
“I don’t know,” he answers. “Bet it’s because of the clouds.”
A lower set oftweet-tweet-tweet-tweets.
Jameson huffs. “She’ll be fine. Get off my ass about it.”
I cover my mouth with my hand to keep a confused, affectionate laugh from spilling out. I have noaffectiontoward a kidnapper. There’s no reason for my chest to get warm because he’s talking to a bird about me.
It’s the bird I’m affectionate about.
