Chapter 90 The Blade In The Dark

• The safehouse walls groaned when the wind hit them, a low moan like something alive. I lay awake, tracing the cracks above the bed with my eyes, unable to shut my mind off. Sleep should have come easily after last night after the way Jaxon and I had torn each other apart and stitched ourselves back together with skin and breath and need. But instead of peace, all I felt was the echo.
• His arm was heavy across my waist, possessive even in sleep. His breath warmed the back of my neck, steady, grounding. And yet my chest tightened. I wanted to believe in the safety of this bed, in the warmth of his body pressed against mine, but my scars knew better. Safety was an illusion. Peace was the silence right before the storm.
• I closed my eyes, inhaling his scent of dark cologne and the faint smoke of gunpowder that clung to him no matter how many showers he took. He smelled like danger, like the life I’d sworn I’d burn to the ground. And yet my body betrayed me, curving into him as though my bones recognized him more than my mind ever could.