I smell whiskey. I can feel his blunt arousal. Oh, my God…his hands are everywhere…on me…in me. I can’t breathe. But through the chaos, he’s my anchor, refusing to allow the demons to drag me to rough waters.
“I will never let him hurt you ever again.”
Cayden’s promise, although gallant, doesn’t make sense. The dead can’t hurt me. Their memories, yes, but in the physical sense…a bright light flickers, a candle in a darkened room, and I suddenly strip back the past and focus on this moment, this very second in time.
“He’s dead. He can’t hurt me.”
This is the time for Cayden to nod and tell me we’re all safe, but he doesn’t. He does the complete opposite. With a hesitant touch, he places his palm on my cheek, lending me some strength. “No…I don’t think that he is.”
There must be some mi
