Page 43 of While She Sleeps

No backing out now.

Orion

A laugh tumbles from my mouth, and it takes me a moment to realize how easily it came, considering all the others have been forced for as long as I can remember.

I drop the card beside the flowers and reach for my phone.

Ember: This is way too much to buy for a first date…you know that, right?

Orion: I wasn’t aware. I’ll make sure I buy you more for date two.

I scoff and shake my head. Ithinkhe’s joking, but I actually can’t be sure, given the state of my apartment right now.

Ember: Thank you for all the gifts, but you didn’t have to.

Orion: I wanted to. What’s the point of having all this money if you have no one to spend it on? Now go get ready for our date. I have a feeling seeing you in that dress is going to make it hard to leave your apartment…

I have that same feeling, but I refrain from telling him that.

Tonight might be the night I finally lose my virginity, and that thought doesn’t scare me nearly half as much as I thought it would.

Who wouldn’t want to lose their v-card to the most eligible bachelor in LA?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

ORION

I’m an hour early to pick up Ember, and there’s a voice in the back of my head telling me you’re not supposed to seem quite so keen on a first date. But the rational voice in the back of my head is fighting a losing battle against the unhinged version of myself that comes out to play every time my little flame is involved.

I work on my phone. I pace up and down the sidewalk. I count down the fucking seconds until I can head up to her apartment and see her in the dress I purchased.

There’s a whole wardrobe at my apartment waiting for her, but this was the one I chose for tonight, wanting to show her I see her. Not the mask she shows the world. Not the fighter she has had to be since the day she was born. No. I see the Ember she is deep down, but has never had the chance to truly be, and I’m desperate to prove that to her.

When quarter to seven rolls around, I’ve had enough of waiting and basically bound up the stairs to her apartment.

If the cameras inside her apartment are anything to go by, she’s still getting ready, but I couldn’t give a fuck about whether she thinks she’s perfect for our date, because the reality is, I’ll think that enough for the both of us.

I rap my knuckles on the door and take a step back, fixing my tie before I shove my hands in my pockets just to give them something to do. If Killian could see me now, he’d be laughing his fucking ass off.

The day he finds his own Ember is a day I’m going to relish forever, because he has no idea how hard he’s going to fall.

That’s just the reality for men like us.

We don’t have the time to fall slowly. Dating and courting and long, drawn-out engagements are useless to us, and more than that, they’re dangerous as hell. If our enemies catch wind of a woman we care for that doesn’t share our last name, they’re fair game, and that’s something I won’t allow Ember to be.

The sooner she’s in my penthouse with twenty-four-seven security, the better.

It takes a minute for her to answer the door, looking flustered and fucking perfect. Her makeup is just a light layer with a smoky eye to bring the outfit together. The dress I chose fits her like a glove, and I hope she doesn’t ask any questions about how exactly I knew what size she wears in both clothes and shoes. I look down and find the ankle boots I knew she’d love already on her feet.

She looks like a fucking dream, even with the roller on the top of her head that I assume is holding the front pieces of her hair while the rest frames her face in wavy strands.

“You’re breathtaking,” I breathe, stepping forward before I can catch myself and realize she hasn’t invited me in.

“You’re early,” she huffs, looking over her shoulder at the clock above the television.

I chuckle and brush my fingers along her cheek, needing to touch her before I lose my fucking mind. “I couldn’t wait anymore,” I admit. “Forgive me.”

Some of the annoyance bleeds from her features as a small smile tips up the corners of her lips. “You’re forgiven. But only because you have impeccable taste in shoes.”

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