Hi, friends! As promised, here’s chapter three of The Equinox Stone, which you can order by clicking here (or read for free, if you have Kindle Unlimited!)

If you’ve just stumbled onto this post and you don’t know what this is all about, this is my sequel to The Phoenix Codex. You can read Chapter One of this sequel here and Chapter Two here.

In this chapter, Valentina Vega has gone into Michael West’s psyche. All through this series, a person’s psyche is like a personal inner dreamscape, and certain people with psychic gifts can enter another person’s psyche. There is some coarse language in this chapter in the book, which has been edited out for the website.

 

 

CHAPTER THREE

 

Michael found himself standing with the pretty empath, Valentina Vega, on the city street he’d been on once before already, under a night sky the color of purple plums. It shocked him less this time. He studied his surroundings more closely.

Some of the buildings boasted wrought-iron balconies and ornate facades. Others looked new—sleek rectangles of steel and glass—and some were all curves and pastels. The neon signs in different languages advertised music, drinks, food, and less legal pleasures, along with fortune telling and karate.

Valentina stood so close to him that she almost touched his chest. She didn’t step away.

“That was painless,” he said. When Jonathan had somehow split his head open and transported him here, it had been excruciating. If anyone else had suggested doing that to him again, he would’ve told the person to go to hell. It was bad enough having his blood drawn while people barraged him with questions and stared at him as though he were an alien.

But maybe they could help him remember who he was. And he’d trusted Valentina immediately. It might’ve been her kind voice, or the caring in her big brown eyes.

When she’d first run over and hugged him, all soft and sweet and smelling a little of flowery soap or perfume, he’d been sure she was his girlfriend, but no such luck.

“This has changed,” she said, gesturing to the street scene that surrounded them now. “But do you remember it at all?”
He shook his head. He hated feeling like such a dumbass, especially when he was alone with someone he couldn’t help but want to impress.

“This used to be a crowded street. There were performers. A juggler, a violin player. Groups of friends walking around laughing—they’d all have their arms around each other. Like they were drunk on vacation. And couples kissing under the streetlights.” She looked away as she relayed the last part.

This street stretched empty, the signs shining for no one and buzzing in the silence. “I still don’t get what this place is.” Nothing looked normal—not here, and not their military compound under a desert floor. But what did normal even look like? All he could think was that none of this could possibly be his life.

“Do you remember what a Mage is? How some of them can go into other people’s psyches?”

“Yeah.” Oh. “This is me.”

“Jonathan didn’t tell you?”

He shook his head. Everything had moved so fast. “He was about to shoot me, but the other two yelled at him not to, and he slammed into me.” She winced. “Have you done this before? Been in me, I mean.”

“It’s part of my job.” What the hell kind of job was that? “How much did Jonathan tell you about who you are?”

He took a deep breath and exhaled audibly. “He said we’re brothers. And Knights, but I don’t know what that means.”

“You’re in Manus Sancti, a secret organization.”

“The tattoo,” he said, half to himself. “And we fight demons?”

She nodded. “And malevolent ghosts, brujas—all kinds of supernatural evil things.”

Well, that all sounded horrible. “Why did I take this job? Do you know?”

She pursed her lips, considering the question. “You were born to it.”

So he hadn’t had a choice? “Where was I born?”

“Saint Augustine, Florida. You partly grew up there,” she said in Spanish. Then she switched to Arabic. “When you were a teenager, your family moved to Cairo, around the same time as mine.”

He nodded slowly, although none of it stirred any recollections. Had she been a teenager then too? She looked young. Also in Arabic, he asked, “Do I know any other languages?”

“A little Tagalog,” she said, switching to English. “Even if you didn’t remember how to speak the other languages, you’d still understand me now, because we’re in here. But you do know how to speak them.”

“I must not have spoken much Spanish in Cairo.”

“You did some. All of us speak Spanish and English. And then you went to college at University of Miami, so you got even more practice. You competed in the UFC—mixed martial arts—for a little while after that. Lots of people think that’s good training. Of course, that was all under an alias.”

“Of course.” His voice was dry.

“You’ve been here at El Dédalo—the headquarters—for about five years. Except they outposted you to Manila for a little while.”

“Where’s the headquarters?” She blinked, confused at his question. “And where was I when they found me?”

“Oh. New Mexico.”’

“New Mexico,” he repeated under his breath. Maybe all of this was a bizarre science experiment, playing out while he laid strapped to a bed and hallucinating.

“Let’s try accessing your memories.” She lifted her hand slightly to flutter her fingers, and he felt something leave him. “What happened when you first got to El Dédalo?”

A black screen appeared large in the sky, like the world’s biggest television set. No, it wasn’t completely black. He was at that security checkpoint with Jonathan, Nic, and Cassie, right after they’d come into the building. Jonathan had carried Cassie inside in his arms and had settled her in a chair, kneeling to ease off one of her boots. Nic had stripped off his clothes and walked through a scanner.

The guard said to Michael, “You’re next. Take off the blanket and go through.”

Michael felt pathetic enough, clothed only in a blanket, and at this, he drew it closer around him. “Forget it.”

The guard drew his gun and stepped toward him.

Jonathan rose to his feet. “No one touches him.” The unmistakable low grate of command in his voice surprised the guard and Michael both. Nic, still shirtless and barefoot, strode back through the scanner toward them, zipping up his jeans. Michael didn’t know if he was about to side with one or another of them, or smooth things over.

Michael didn’t want to be the cause of anyone getting hurt. “Fine, I’ll do it,” he muttered, dropping the blanket.

The memory disappeared abruptly. Val lowered her hand. She’d somehow dismissed it with a gesture. “You usually don’t mind being naked,” she said.

Oh, really? “You know me really well,” he ventured.

“We grew up together.”

“How old are you?”

She blinked. “Twenty-two. You’re twenty-seven,” she added, anticipating his next question.

“So we’re not that far apart in age.” He was deeply glad to realize it.

“It used to seem like a big gap,” she said. “Now, let’s see…what should I show you?” Obviously, the question was rhetorical, as she scrunched up her face in thought. “Do you remember the dog who got his paw caught in the gate?” She fluttered her fingers again.

Something quavered on the edge of his vision. He looked up in that direction. But no, everything was still: a rooftop terrace, strung with party lights.

She frowned. “I thought maybe I could help you remember things this way, but I can’t pull it up.”

“Tell me about it.”

“It’s not important.”

“I don’t have any memories,” he said. “Give me one.”

Once again, her eyes filled with sympathy for him. “It was when we were kids in Saint Augustine. Your neighbors weren’t home, and their dog got his paw stuck in the gate…he was wailing. I was little, and I started crying. But you stayed calm, and you figured out how to lift the gate up on its hinges to get his paw free.”

The story was flattering to him. Maybe that was why she’d chosen it.

“Let’s try this one,” she said. “You and Jonathan were in Kansas, and you drove past a sunflower farm.”

“Were you there too?”

She shook her head. “I saw it in your memories when I debriefed you after the mission. The job itself was pretty gruesome, but…” She fluttered her fingers once more, looking up at the empty sky, and then sighed. “A mile of sunflowers, about six feet high, all in bloom. You really don’t remember?”

How he wished he did. He shook his head.

“I’ll help you,” she promised. “We’ll fix this.” Her voice was high and sweet again, triggering the strange, pleasurable tingling feeling. He imagined making her moan and cry out in that soft voice of hers. Stripping that robe and silk slip from her body and caressing and kissing her body.

Her cheeks darkened in a blush. Empath. She could tell when he had thoughts like this, though he didn’t think he could help it.

“I love your voice,” he said. “It gives me…tingles in my head. And going down here.” He touched his chest.

Her mouth curved upward. “Some people get that reaction from certain kinds of voices. I didn’t know for sure that you did.”

He couldn’t resist. “You know about the other kind of reaction, though.”

She pressed her lips together in an apparent attempt to remain professional. “I can always sense arousal, yes.”

The heat inside him burned brighter upon being acknowledged. “Can you tell when it’s for you?”

He heard and saw her breath hitch. “Yes, if you’re close enough to me. It’s like…being

able to see who you’re making eye contact with. If that makes sense.”

He took a step closer to her, their bodies almost touching. “Are you and I just friends?” He would’ve almost sworn the feeling was mutual. “Did we ever—”

“No.”

“You turned me down?”

“No.” Now she was blushing even harder. “You never asked.”

“Why not?” He was mystified. “Are you seeing someone else? Am I?”

“No. And you’ve never been in a real relationship,” she told him. “You’ve had one-night stands and…more casual things, I guess. Mostly women, some men.”

A dark suspicion clouded his mind. “But I don’t use people?”

“No,” she said quickly. “Well. When you were a teenager, you kind of did. You broke some people’s hearts, and Jonathan was always furious with you…” He must have had a look of dismay on his face, because she added, “But you learned better! You don’t lead anybody on. You find people who want to have fun, like you do.” She shrugged. “You’re hardly the only one. Some Knights don’t want to settle down, because it’s so dangerous.”

He didn’t even know his own character. It made him feel like less than a human. And how could he trust himself? “Am I…” He hesitated. “Am I a good man?”

Her mouth fell open. “Yes. Michael, people love you.” Her eyes shone with sincerity. “You put yourself in danger to help people. You’ve saved dozens of lives. And you joke around a lot, but it’s never in a mean way. Any time I’m feeling down, just being around you makes me feel like everything will be all right.”

Her words reassured him, but his heart ached. He wanted his half of the memories she shared with him.

She looked down at her bare feet. “We were all devastated when you were gone.”

Something eclipsed his awareness. Cold. A nameless, starless void…

A deafening roar went straight through his body. The pavement beneath their feet bucked, throwing them both to their knees. Valentina gasped.

Then he shouted in pain. His skull was cracking apart. He grabbed the sides of his head and was surprised to find it still intact. The agony far surpassed what he’d felt when Jonathan had broken into his head. He thought he might vomit. Was she doing this? “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know!” Her eyes were wide with fear. She couldn’t be lying. Cracks of nothingness separated the street from the buildings on one side of it. Another chasm opened up in front of them. They were both going to die in this otherworldly plane.

He yelled over the din. “Get out of here!”

She disappeared. Good. At least she’d escaped. The sky and the pavement broke into jagged hunks, with fissures of the void in between.

She materialized again, still on her knees. No, no, what is she doing? She crawled over to him and grabbed his shoulders. At the contact, the quaking slowed to a vibration. “This crack over here!” she shouted over the roar like a hurricane, pointing toward the nearest dropoff. “Concentrate on fixing it!”

This was futile. He had no control here. She held up her hand toward the crack, closing her eyes. He had to at least try to help. Pain still chiseled his skull, but he willed the crack to seal itself up again.

“Yes! Like that!” She could feel whatever he was doing. The two parts of the street sealed up and became one. The roar diminished to a rumble. Maybe there was hope.

Still holding onto him, she said, “Now these buildings over here.” She expanded the range of her control. After a few moments of effort, they became whole.

Michael took a big gulp of air. The pain subsided to the normal throb of a pounding headache. She raised her face to the sky and they saw the ragged pieces coming back together. The healing they’d done seemed to cause a chain reaction. The rest of the buildings and the street came back together. Finally, the rumble gave way to silence.

Exhausted, she let her hands fall from his shoulders. A wordless noise of relief escaped her lips as she sat back on her heels.

“What was it?” he asked her.

She shook her head. “I’m not sure. I think your psyche was coming apart.”

If she didn’t know…? “How did you know what to do?”
“I guessed?”
My God. It’d been incredibly brave of her, trying to fix him, and it had worked. Michael took both her hands. His breath still came fast.

“Christos. You’re like this beautiful, powerful angel.” He leaned closer. Her lips were parted, her expression soft, for all the world like a girl who wanted to be kissed…

But then she pulled back.

How had he misread her signals? Why did he keep embarrassing himself around her? To cover up the awkwardness of the moment, he said, “Thanks for coming back for me.”

“I didn’t run away. I talked to the rest of them for a second. They were freaking out.”

“What?” She could sense everyone in the normal world, even when she was here?

“Dr. Morales was about to give you an injection to knock you out, but I told her not to.” She winced. “I know you were in pain, but I thought we could fix whatever was happening.”

“You were right.” He still wanted to kiss her, or at least enfold her luscious body into his arms again. But she didn’t want to touch him like that, and he couldn’t push her, even if it left him feeling hollow inside.

She looked away. “It seems like you’re stable. Let’s get out now.”

Michael opened his eyes. He still sat on the hospital bed, Valentina perched on the edge of it.

Jonathan and Dr. Morales hovered over them, and Capitán Renaud stood only a few steps away. “Vega, what happened?” the man said at the same time Jonathan demanded of both of them, “Are you all right?”

Valentina said, “We’re okay. It’s hard to explain.”

“I was coming apart,” Michael said. “She fixed me.”

Capitán Renaud, Dr. Morales, and Jonathan pelted her and Michael with questions. Jonathan asked her how she’d how to fix the shattering, and she told him she’d only guessed.

“Instinct,” Capitán noted with approval. But his mouth set in a hard line after she explained she hadn’t been able to pull up any of Michael’s memories from before the demon spell.

“What’s going on?” a gravelly man’s voice asked.

They all turned. A stout older man—maybe seventy, but with a full head of dyed-black hair—lumbered into the room. He wore a shiny blue short-sleeve shirt open over a ribbed white undershirt. They’d called him a priest. A woman who looked like another one of the soldiers walked in behind him.

The man’s gaze locked on Michael, and his jaw dropped. Michael was already heartily sick of this response. The man turned on Capitán Renaud. “What have you done?” His voice was filled with cold anger and contempt.

“We would never do that,” Capitán replied, unperturbed. “We learned that lesson centuries ago.” Val’s eyebrows raised. “West and Rios defeated the demon. Then they found Michael.”

The priest asked Jonathan, “She’s all right?” Jonathan nodded. “Well, thank God for that,” he muttered.

Capitán clasped his hands behind his back. “Do you know of any myths where the body disintegrates and the soul remains attached?”

“Attached to the remains?”

“Yes. In this case, particles. Dust.”

“Goddamn. No, I’ve—” He stopped, his lower lip jutting out thoughtfully. “Wait. You have an Egyptologist, right?”

“Our best one was Lucia Dimitriou. The one who translated the codex.” Val touched her hand to her chest above her heart, two fingers extended, and others did something similar.

The priest’s mouth tightened in sympathy. “There’s a fragment that seems to talk about a man torn into pieces by a vengeful god. He’s reconstructed when the god is defeated and ‘the jasmine blooms again,’ it says. Depending on who you believe, it might pre-date the Osiris legend.” He shrugged. “It’s in storage at the Australian Museum. That’s all I know.”

Capitán nodded. “Thank you for your assistance.”

The female soldier behind the man stepped forward. “Follow me. We’ll have a driver take you home.”

The priest waved her off and took a few steps toward Michael, looking him in the eyes. “You’re lost here, aren’t you?” The sympathy in the man’s voice cut straight through Michael’s defenses, and a fresh sense of forlornness made his throat ache. “You can trust your brother and Val. And Nic, and Cassie.”

Capitán Renaud was conspicuously absent from that list.

“Okay,” Michael said. He didn’t have a reason to even trust the priest, but for some reason, he did.

The priest and Val exchanged a meaningful look but said nothing. Michael had the strong suspicion that a kind of understanding had passed between them, anyway. Then the priest turned and clasped Jonathan by the shoulder. “I’m happy for you.” He glanced back at Michael. “Be patient.”

Jonathan nodded. “Take care, Morty.”

As the female soldier escorted the man out, Dr. Morales said, “I’d like Michael to get at least a few hours’ sleep before our consult with Dr. Holst later this morning.”

If he were asleep, he’d be completely helpless here. Maybe she was looking for an opportunity to do other tests without his consent. She hadn’t been on the priest’s list of people to trust, either.

Capitán said, “The fracturing could happen again. Vega, stay with him at all times until further notice.”

Yes. Finally, a plan he liked.

Her mouth dropped open, but then she composed herself, murmuring, “Obedezco.” I obey.

“Morales, set up a meeting after your consult with Holst,” Capitán said to the doctor. “Me, you, Vega, Joe, both Wests, Liu, and Malouf. Rios and West, debrief with Lambert in the morning.” He looked around at Nic, Jonathan, and Cassie before his gaze landed on Val again. “Excellent work, all of you.” He left the room, and Nic stirred from where he’d been leaning against the wall.

Cassie started to get out of her chair, awkwardly, because she could only put weight on one foot. Jonathan said, “You’re tired. I’ll get you a wheelchair.”

“No, I’m fine.” She hopped on one foot to grab her crutches.

Valentina stood up and wrapped her arms around Jonathan, who smiled and hugged her close. Apparently, she hugged everyone; Michael wasn’t special. The knowledge gave him a twinge of disappointment. “Thank Goddess you’re okay,” she told him. “He’s going to be okay, too. I’m sure of it.”

He kissed her on the top of the head, which galled Michael. He would’ve liked to casually kiss the top of her head, or her cheek…or better places. “Thanks, corina. Thanks for everything.” He glanced over at Michael as he said this, and Michael realized he was staring at them. Embarrassed, he looked away.

Jonathan released Valentina and took a step toward Michael. “I know you don’t know who I am right now, but it’s incredible having you back. I can’t even tell you.”

Not for the first time, Michael had the sensation of being the victim of an elaborate prank. “Please stop saying things like that,” he said before he could stop himself.

A spark of temper flashed in Cassie’s eyes, and then she caught herself. Well. Someone was protective of her man. But things were weird enough without Jonathan making them weirder, and the way he’d swung from murderous intent to tearful joy still unnerved him.

Jonathan’s expression closed. “All right. Get some sleep.”

“Good night,” Nic said and turned to head out alone.

Jonathan followed Cassie out. She stumbled on her crutches in the doorway, and he grabbed her. “Oops,” she said, readjusting herself. Jonathan opened his mouth, no doubt about to say something like I told you that you needed a wheelchair, but then shut it again.

When Michael was alone with Valentina, he said, “So you get to babysit.” It was a joke, but once he said it, he suddenly felt like a burden. She had her own life, and making sure that he didn’t shatter like glass wasn’t part of it.

“It’s fine. I’ll be right over here.” She moved to the chair Cassie had vacated.

“You can’t sleep on that. Lie next to me.”

She darted a wary look at the hospital bed, which seemed to have been built for two people.

He held up his hands. “Just sleeping, I promise.” Erotic images played in his brain, and he did his best to keep his face neutral. But what was the point? She knew his feelings.

She tilted her head. “It might be best. So I’ll wake up right away if something’s wrong.”

Despite knowing his desire, she believed in his pledge. It humbled him, and his soul filled with gratitude. Had he earned that kind of trust in the supposed past life he couldn’t remember? He moved all the way over to one side of the bed and laid down on his side, facing her. She came over, sat down on the other side, and kicked off her slippers.

Facing away from him, she stretched out, and then sat up again to fuss with her long robe, which had apparently bunched around her legs. She laid down again, then shifted position, as if she still wasn’t comfortable. With a sigh, she sat up and took off the robe so she was only in the satin slip.

Her back was to him, but he could still appreciate the sight of her naked shoulders and the way her curls brushed them. God, how he’d love to see her lush, naked body, to cup and caress those welcoming curves, to sink deep into her. He didn’t move. She took in a long breath and let it out. After a minute or two, her breathing became deeper, more regular.

What was this life? Maybe he could get a good night’s rest, a big breakfast, shoes for God’s sake, somebody’s money, somebody’s gun, and get the hell out of here. But it wouldn’t be easy. He thought again of the guards at the perimeter, the armed men stalking down the glass hallway. Probably, he wouldn’t stand a chance.
Why did they even want him, though? Loneliness overtook him, making the dark room darker. If he slept, everything was going to disintegrate. Maybe this was all a dream.

He was still on the desert, with less freedom or dignity than the insects who crawled over him. Motionless, voiceless. Cold, scattered… No. His heartbeat sped up with panic. He should wake her up and tell her he might be falling apart again. That was what she was here for.

But he didn’t want to. It was humiliating. She’d already saved him once. And she’d just gotten to sleep.

If he could touch her, that would help. But he’d promised to leave her alone, and whoever he was, he hoped he was a man of his word.

But maybe if he got permission… He cleared his throat and asked softly, “Hey, Valentina?”

She stirred. “Yes?”

He pushed back his embarrassment. “Can I put my hand here?” He touched her hip once, lightly.

She didn’t answer him. Shit. She wanted him to leave her alone. He opened his mouth to say something like Never mind, forget it.

“That’s fine,” she said. Her voice was soft, maybe even…nervous? She wasn’t mad at him.

Thank God. He set his hand on her hip. Just the sensation of the warm, soft, silk-covered flesh beneath his palm made him feel solid and whole. The dread and the sense of abandonment retreated. As lost as he felt, he had one small, real connection—to her.

He should let her get back to sleep, he knew. But instead he asked, “Will you tell me about something that happened to me?”

“Of course.” Her immediate, gentle response gratified him. “What?”

“Just…any stories about me.”

“Hmm.” She shifted slightly. “Did you know you and Nic have gone to Vegas together a few times?”

“So he and I are friends?”

She nodded. “Good friends. He’s been your mission runner for quite a while.”

“What’s a mission runner?” When was she going to get tired of all his questions?

“When you go off to fight a ghost or a demon, the mission runner arranges everything. They plan the trip, get all your equipment, and keep in touch with you to see if you need anything else. And if things don’t go right, they tell you to do something different.”

Huh. “So they’re like…your assistant and your boss?”

“That’s actually not far off,” she mused. “Their job is to help you do yours and to get you home.”

What had it been like for Nic, then, when Michael had been turned into dust?

“The first time you went to Vegas, you gambled,” she continued. “But Capitán outlawed it right after that.”

“Sounds like we were really good at it,” he said wryly.

She laughed. “Well, you don’t have a poker face. But it wasn’t you and Nic’s fault. People in Hong Kong and Manila were gambling a lot in Macau. Zurich was losing too much in Monte Carlo, and it was a huge scandal, because they’re supposed to take care of our money. That guarída is basically a bank.”

“‘Guarída makes you sound like terrorists,” he said.

“I guess if you’re a demon, we are,” she said pertly.

“You’re all over the world?”
“Almost. The guarídas are small. I guess most of them are…I don’t know, one hundred and fifty or two hundred people? They vary a lot. But this is the big headquarters.”

“But they let you out to have fun.” And the gambling ban withstanding, it sounded like they got generous expense accounts, which was about the last thing he would’ve expected. “Do you go to Vegas on your time off?”

“Oh, Goddess, no. I don’t like crowds. If it’s a short leave, I stay here.” She didn’t feel trapped here, then. It looked confining to him, but it was her home. “But sometimes I go to Santa Fe. I take a lot of time alone to meditate. And there’s a great spa there,” she added. “Body scrubs, massages…” There was a little purr in her voice, talking about it.

She should know better than to talk like that. But no—it was his issue, not hers. And he couldn’t even be sorry for the beautiful images of her unfolding in his imagination. He shifted to put a little more space between himself and her.

“You and Nic liked Vegas, though,” she said. “I think you both met girls, a couple of times. And…rumor has it that you do a pretty memorable karaoke version of a Mariah Carey song.”

He vaguely recalled who that was. “I’m a good singer?”

“You’re terrible.” She giggled. “You always were. When you were a kid, you’d sing a lot, and we’d tell you to stop.”

Her amusement made him smile. “You all just didn’t appreciate my unique style. Do I have any not-embarrassing stories?”

“Yes.” She sobered up at once. “So many.”

“Tell me one.”

She was silent for a few moments.

“You can’t think of one,” he said, teasing, though her silence perturbed him.

“I don’t know if you’ll like it.”
“Why?” She didn’t answer, and he sighed. “Well, now you have to tell me.”

“You know how I told you that you were a UFC fighter?”

“Right. When did I quit?”

“You weren’t in it very long. It was just for training, but then you got ranked and you were getting too conspicuous. So they had you say you’d been born again and were giving up fighting.” Born again. He supposed, now, he had been. “And then you took your Knight vows and came here.”

“So what was the story?”

She shifted. “Well, you were getting a little famous for being so nice and friendly to your opponents. I mean, before and after you’d brutally beat each other up for no reason.” She shuddered. “But you were in this fight and winning. He wasn’t a match for you. You were always really fast.”

“You watched me fight?” He could hardly imagine it.

“I watched YouTube videos with Jonathan. You thought the guy had a concussion after you kicked him in the head, and he wouldn’t tap off—tap out,” she corrected herself. “You yelled at the referee to stop the fight. He ignored you. So you tapped out. You stepped back and got on one knee and tapped on the floor. You lost the fight to end it.”

“Wow.” He wanted to hold the story tight to his chest: one proof that he was a worthwhile person.

“That’s the biggest reason you were getting too famous. Most people thought it was inspiring. But some people were mad at you and said you were weak.”

“Forget them,” Michael said cheerfully, feeling better than he had all day.

She laughed softly. “That’s what you said at the time.” She yawned.

“I should let you rest.” It was probably dawn, though who could tell down here?

“Thank you. For telling me about myself.”

She patted his hand where it still laid on her hip. “It’s my pleasure.”

 

 

That’s it for now! You can pre-order the book by clicking here. I hope you’re sheltering at home and staying safe! Thanks for reading!