The villa was stifling.
Although the doors had been thrown open and the fresh air came pouring in, the air felt too thick . The rooms all stank of antiseptic and of smoke, but I was sure that I could still smell the cold metallic smell of blood beneath.
My blood.
I gripped the weave of Caspian's T-shirt — the one I had removed from his closet because I couldn't bear to wear my own. Mine were tattered, worn, filled with things I didn't even want to think about.
The bandage on my foot was itching, but I would not touch it. Could not touch it. I could not get out of my head the way the glass had sliced through my flesh, the feeling of warm liquid spreading beneath my toes.
It felt so small compared to the everything else, but it did not go away.
A reminder of how easily my body had been broken.
I remained in Caspian's bathroom, standing in front of the mirror, staring at my image as if she would just magically leap out to get me. The girl I saw in the mirror was not me.
She had eyes that were too large. Too hollow.
And her lips quivered.
The door that was behind me opened gently, and I did not have to look back to know it was him.
Caspian had followed me around the whole day — pacing like an animal in a cage, as if he did not think that the villa could protect me. He was barely left my side , with the exception of when his head of security or one of his guards needed to speak to him.
Even then, he stayed close enough to get a glimpse of me.
Just to make sure I was still alive.
I had seen him staring into the mirror, and my gut had clenched up.
He looked wrecked and broken.
His bruise along his jawline was worse today, the hue from a late-night to an even dull ugliness of purple and black, and the cut on his arm tied off and stitched but still gleaming bright red. His shirt stuck too close to his shoulders, the fabric rumpled as if he'd never changed it, hadn't even thought about it.
As if he'd just worn the same shirt he cut himself in.
He loomed over me, cold, as if I'd shatter if he got any closer.
When he wrapped his arms around me, I leaned into the rigidity of his chest.
I hated the way I leaned against him — hated the way it left me bare. But I had no control. My body just folded inward, its bones too weak to hold itself straight.
His arms tightened closer like he knew, like he alone was supporting me so that I wouldn't topple to the floor.
"We're fine," he panted, face mashed against my temple.
"It's over."
It wasn't.
I could feel it in my bones.
Victor was out there still.
Watching.
Waiting.
I twisted in Caspian's arms, nose pressed against his chest, breathing him in as if I could exchange the smell of blood for his.
"You haven't slept," I rasped.
His fingers made slow, adoring patterns down my spine. "Neither have you."
I rolled back against him to catch his eyes, and my chest ached at the ruin on his face.
The way he looked at me — as though committing every inch to memory, in case he might forget.
As though he weren't even certain I was there yet.
"Come to bed," I whispered.
His jaw clenched, muscles straining under his skin. "I can't, I don't want to leave the door unguarded."
"Guards are everywhere," I wheezed. "Please, Caspian. I need you."
Something inside of him broke and his face softened.
He didn't say another word, but swept me up into his arms and carried me across the room to the giant bed in the center. He put me down there on the bed, gently, as if I were a delicate piece of glass, and then paused — as if he wasn't entirely sure that he could touch me.
I reached for him first.
He stretched out next to me, arms wrapped around me, and I snuggled into the warmth.
The pressure of his arm across my belly, the hollow of his chest in a slow beat — it should have anchored me. Should have made me whole.
But my heart would not settle.
As soon as I closed my eyelids, Victor appeared in there.
The curve of his smile.
The glint of the blade.
The manner in which he had not been afraid, not even when Caspian had almost murdered him.
I turned onto my side, eyes fixed on Caspian's, fingers tracing the gashes on his knuckles.
"I can still see him."
Caspian's fist curled over and the storm engulfed him.
"Me, too."
"Me, too," he whispered.
"I see him every time I look at you."
I winced, and he swore softly under his breath, holding me tighter in his arms.
"I didn't mean to say it like it like that," he rasped. "I just — I keep replaying what would've happened if I hadn't arrived in time. If he'd—" He swallowed and went quiet, his face in my hair. "I just can't get it out, Lily. In my head, constantly. I couldn't switch it off."
Neither could I.
I stroked my hand down the center of his chest, along the frantic rhythm pulse of his heartbeat.
"What if it this never ends?" I panted. "What if he never backs down?"
Caspian's head shot up, and the look I saw in his eyes took my breath away.
He looked feral.
Like he was already halfway to incinerating the entire world already.
"I don't care how long it takes," he snarled, his fury shaking in his voice. "I'll kill him if he tries to lay his filthy hands on you again."
I should have been afraid at the threat in his voice.
But I wasn't.
I wanted him to be ruthless.
I wanted him to rend Victor limb from limb.
I wanted no longer to be chased y a maniac.
I pushed against Caspian more desperately, molding myself to the line of his body.
"Just hold me," I whispered.
He held me to him as if he was scared that I'd disappear, his hand on my shirt, on the skin of my back.
Not sexual. Just grounding.
A reminder that I was alive.
That I was still there.
"I've got you," he repeated over and over, his voice breaking. "I've got you."
And for the first time in hours, I believed him.
Even if the nightmares were still haunting me.
Even though the danger was still there.
Right now I had company.
And maybe that was enough.
Maybe ever would turn out good.