Fear

44

I woke awkwardly, my whole body stiff and aching. The groan slipped out before I could swallow it. Muscles pulled tight, bruises flared to life, and then there was the hot, nagging throb in my knee.

"Em?" His voice came cautious, concerned. He shifted beside me, and I felt his hand hover near my leg before he pulled it back. "Your knee. Let me look at it properly."

"It's fine," I muttered, brushing him off.

He didn't believe me. His jaw tightened and his eyes followed the shape of my body like he was cataloguing every ache I hadn't admitted.

Pushing myself upright sent a sharp stab through my leg. I swung myself toward the edge of the bed, trying not to show it. The first thing that caught my eye was our clothes scattered across the floor, a stark reminder of our encounter last night.

But before I could stand, strong arms wrapped firmly around my waist from behind, pulling me against his chest. His head rested against my shoulder, his lips brushing the fabric of my shirt.

"Stay here," he murmured. "I'll call Sam."

I turned my head slightly, catching his profile in the corner of my vision. "Dr. Thorne?"

He nodded against me.

A sigh left me, shaky and tired. "Okay."

He slipped away only long enough to grab his phone from the nightstand. A few taps later, he was back at my side, as though letting go of me for more than a moment wasn't an option. I glanced down and caught a glimpse of his screen.

Sam. Emily's injured. Bring medkit and Levonorgestrel upstairs.

I didn't comment.

"Ty... we need to talk," I tried, voice quiet.

"Not yet." He shook his head. "Breakfast first."

"Ty—"

He silenced me with the brush of his lips against my cheek. "You stay here, princess. I'll bring you something."

I trembled a little at the contact, but it wasn't unease this time. Just pain.

He left the bed and walked to the closet, naked form catching the morning light — toned ass, defined back muscles and biceps, a glimpse of his— A blush crept up my neck. I watched him pull on shorts and a plain black T-shirt, like any other man about to start his day.

He glanced back at me once and noticed something. The sound of a drawer and rustling drew my attention. In his hands were a pair of black knickers and an oversized blue shirt.

"Put these on. Don't want Sam seeing you naked, do you?" He smiled languidly, then left, leaving the door open.

The clothes felt good against my cool skin. I hadn't realised how cold I'd gotten. For a few minutes, I just sat there, a little too tired to go to the bathroom or do anything else. My eyes drifted to the open doorway.

From where I sat, I could see the railing of the balcony.

And then it all came back.

Dylan's knife, the chase, the blind panic. The searing pain as the blade drove into my knee. Falling backwards, tumbling off the balcony into the living room below. The shock. The way the world tilted and broke. His shadow looming over me, knife raised high.

Curling back into the sheets, I wrapped my arms around myself. Shivers overtook me, memory gnawing at my edges. My eyes squeezed shut. Hot tears slid sideways into my hair. I didn't make a sound, but I cried anyway.