Chapter 862 This Can't Be

• Aris
• Posey’s skin gleams in the midmorning light. I’ve been staring at her for the past hour while keeping watch on the back porch swing, giving her the space I can tell she wants. Classical music drifts from the kitchen where the sound of her knife against the cutting board is a rhythmic reminder of her presence, but even over the smell of whatever she’s cooking, something rich and deep with hints of maple, her scent is everywhere.
• The last two nights were insane. I can’t come up with a better word for it. Gods, I thought she was dying. I think she thought she was dying. Waking up in the dark hours of early morning with her sweat-soaked body clutched against mine and her scent enveloping me had me thinking thoughts I can’t say out loud, like whatever’s happening to her has me by the balls, and I’d crawl through fire to make her feel better.