I watched her sleep uneasily, tossing and turning throughout the night.
I’d told Deadleg to be ready at three in the morning— it was just after one now, and I watched as the angel curled up in the bed in front of me frowned, mumbled something unintelligible, and turned to face away from me.
I was being a f*****g caveman, and I knew it. But every time I imagined my name carved into her skin, it sent a thrill of pleasure through me. To have her branded as mine— officially mine— it pleased me way more that I thought it was, and I was riding a high from it.
I was exhausted, but that didn’t convince me to move out of the armchair I was in. The gears in my head had been turning all night while I watched her sleep, and I was beginning to wonder if things were connected somehow.
Rinaldi an
