Sleep hasn’t come easily these past few nights, and when it does, it’s merciless. I’m dreaming — I know I am — but it doesn’t feel like one.
Nina’s beneath me, her hair fanned out like fire across my sheets, her eyes glazed and wild. Her lips part, and her breath stutters as her back arches under my hands. I can feel every inch, every tremor, every heartbeat that isn’t mine but feels like it is. Her thighs lock around my hip, and her nails drag across my shoulders like she’s trying to mark her way home. I move, and she meets me, desperate and breathless. Her voice, small and broken, spills into the dark. “Dante…”
And again, louder, closer. My name sounds between a prayer and something she wants to exorcise out of her. My hand finds her throat, not tight, just enough for her to feel it, t
