Page 143 of The Darkest Chase

So I’ll just be as subtle as I can and hope that Micah will take it from there.

“You stare loudly,” he groans, turning his face into his pillow.

He’s just a messy tuft of hair, half-buried in the lushly thick king-sized pillow.

He tends to sleep on his stomach with one arm draped over me, the hard ridges of his back visible above the covers. A few old faded scars mapping his history linger across his shoulders and spine.

“Sorry.” I smile and snuggle into the crook of his arm. “How often do I get to watch the vampire man, sound asleep in his lair?”

“Very funny, Shortcake.” Yawning, he bares those teeth that tease me all the time. Then he rolls on his side to face me, his eyes opening into sleepy silvery-blue slits. He stretches one arm back in a lazy flex, grabs his glasses, and slides them on his nose. It’s hard not to tell him how cute he is when he does that. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I—yeah, it is.” I’m not a good liar, but I try. “I was just thinking about going up to the big house tomorrow. I can’t avoid him forever, and I’m the only link between you and Joseph Peters, right?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean—” He stops, sighs, and caresses my cheek. “This is fucked up, Talia. You don’t have to pretend you’re not afraid to be there.”

“I’m not pretending. I am afraid, but I’d be there even if you weren’t involved, Micah. I just wouldn’t know how to watch my back.” I smile weakly. “And we’d still be strangers while I worked on the renovation.”

Something in his eyes shutters over.

As always, I can’t get a good read on him. He’s so free with his touch and so guarded with his emotions.

“Do you wish we were still strangers sometimes? Would that make it easier to deal with Xavier?”

“What? No!” I push myself up on one elbow, clutching the sheets against my naked chest. “Micah, this time with you…” I bite my lip.

“What are you trying to say, Talia?”

It feels like a stranger asking me that.

Like Officer Ainsley, probing at a suspect.

That stabs hard, and I look away sharply.

“Nothing,” I say. “It’s fine. We should sleep. We both have work in the morning.”

“Don’t do that.” He pushes himself up, tilting his head to try to catch my eye. His fingers trail over my shoulder. “It’s just going to fester if you don’t let it out.”

“But what if letting it out makes things worse? With us, I mean?”

“Is there something wrong with us?”

Yes.

No.

Maybe?

“I don’t know.” I press my face into my palm and shake my head. There I go, making a bigger mess when I didn’t mean to start anything at all. “I’m just wondering what we are, I guess. Because I’m not your girlfriend, am I?”

I don’t want to look at him.

But his silence demands it.

When I glance back, he’s watching me calmly.

Almost too calmly.

Like any part of him that might be affected is totally walled away.

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