I shove the spear out in front of me. “Don’t come near me,” I yell, my voice betraying me by coming out weak and shaky.
He laughs again, flashing white teeth in my direction. “Really, Lara.”
I take a step back. He grins and moves closer. “I think I should remove something from your body, something essential. Say, a finger? What do you think?”
I say nothing. I just lunge. It’s stupid. I don’t realize it at the time but the second I crash against him, I know I’ve made a mistake. He’s bigger than he looks, and his body is solid muscle. I’m tiny and weak; I have no idea how to use a spear. The wooden object just tumbles out of my hand when it makes contact with his body, and I’m left with nothing.
Laughter fills my ears as he takes hold of my hand, jerking me closer.
“No,” I scream. “No!”
With a wild, feral laugh, he brings the knife closer. I squirm, thrash, and kick, but he’s strong and he’s not letting go. I scream and pull as hard as I can, but it’s no use.
“Lara! Hey!”
I jerk upright, sweat running down my face and soaking the blankets. It’s dark. Where am I? Panic grips my chest and I start feeling around frantically, trying to figure out what’s going on. Is he here? Oh God. Did he find me? I thought I was safe? How did he find me so quickly? Noah? Noah!
“Lara!”
My teeth chatter as my body is shaken. I blink a few times, slowly coming to. A soft bed beneath me. Noah’s hands on my shoulders. It’s over. Bryce is dead. We’re okay. We’re safe. We got out. I killed him. I killed him.
“Noah?” I croak. “Is he … is he gone?”
“Baby, he’s gone. You’re okay. It was a dream.”
A dream.
Just a dream.
“It was so real,” I croak. “I was taking sleeping pills in the hospital and I didn’t dream, Noah, I didn’t dream. I want it to go away. I don’t want to see that every time I close my eyes.”
“It’ll get easier to handle,” he says, running his fingers down my hair. “It will, baby. I swear.”
“Will I hear him for the rest of my life? See him around every corner? Every time I close my eyes?”
“No,” he says, softly. “No you won’t.”
I nuzzle into him, needing him, needing the closeness. I don’t ever want to be without him. I need him to make it go away. To make me feel better. To make it feel like it never happened. To take my mind away for just a second.
“Noah,” I whisper, trembling in his arms. “Make love to me.”
“Lara,” he groans. “I don’t…”
“Please. I need you. I need that. The only pure, beautiful thing he couldn’t take from us. We’re going to have to relive this again tomorrow at the police station. So please. Give me this.”
He turns his head. I tilt mine back and his lips graze over mine, softly at first but slowly increasing in pressure until our mouths crush together in a slow, deep frenzy. He moves, tucking me beneath his big body, and our mouths don’t part as he shifts between my legs. His skin is pressed against mine, so hot, so hard, and he feels so good. He’s right there, pressing against my entrance. Hard and ready.
His mouth pulls away from mine and trails down my jaw and neck, stopping at my collarbone before dipping to my breasts. He sucks softly on one nipple, then the other, drawing each into his mouth. His hands caress, gently, passionately, and all the while his erection rubs up and down my sex, taunting me, teasing me. I whimper into his mouth when his lips find mine again and his hand tangles in my hair, tilting my head back so he can trail kisses down my throat.
“Please,” I whimper. “Please, Noah.”
“Please what?” he growls, nipping my jaw.
“I need you inside me.”
“Then that’s what you’ll get.”
He reaches down, hooking my leg around his hips, and then he’s sliding inside me, inch by agonizing inch. So big, so hard. I gasp and my fingers run down his back, lightly caressing his skin as he fills me. He feels incredible, so big and strong. So powerful and dominant. His hand is still tangled in my hair and his fingers move along my scalp as he clenches and unclenches with pleasure.
“Noah,” I gasp, arching up to meet him.
“Fuck. Yes,” he grunts, filling me completely.
Then he makes love to me, slow and steady at first, hands, mouths, bodies colliding. Then frenzy takes over and my nails glide down his skin, his hand tugs on my hair, and our lovemaking becomes fucking. Furious, intense fucking. I arch up to him, screaming his name as an orgasm unlike any other rocks my body, taking me over. My legs quiver, my knees wobble, my palms get sweaty, and I cry out his name as bliss consumes me.
His orgasm follows close behind, matching my own in intensity: His body arches, his muscles clench, and he grunts out a name before dropping his forehead to mine. We feel no pain. Not a single thing on our bodies hurts in this moment, even though they should. We’ve had so much pain, nothing can compare. Nothing. He’s all I need, he’s all I see, he’s all I feel, and I’ll be okay with having that forever.
“If that’s what we need to do to make the nightmares go away,” he murmurs against my lips, “I vote we do it all the time.”
I laugh softly. “Me too.”
Me too.
THIRTY-TWO
“I’m nervous,” I whisper, climbing out of the car and staring around at the road we have to cross to get to the police station.
“It’ll be okay. One day we have to learn how to get on with our lives, Lara. Today is that day,” Noah says, helping me to my feet and clutching my hand as he shuts the door behind me.
“What if they lock me away?”
“You killed a man who was hunting you. They’re not going to lock you away. Trust me.”
“I killed someone.”
He stops and cups my jaw. “You saved our lives, you survived, they will not lock you away for that.”
We take a few steps and I study the people, waiting for one of them to say something. Nobody does. They just move past us as if we’re any old person on the street. They don’t care. Why should they? We’re last week’s news. Bigger and better things have happened since us, and nobody is worried about it anymore. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.
We move to the crossing and a familiar sound rings through the warm day, filling my ears and making my body go stiff. It starts as a low hum and quickly gets louder and louder. I hear it above the cars. Above the buses. Above the chatter of people walking past. Everything else fades into nothing as it gets louder and louder. My body freezes, my ears ring, my skin prickles, and I can’t move.
“Lara.” Noah’s voice is a warm rush in my ear. “It’s just a motorcycle. He’s not here.”
He’s not here.
“He’s dead. You’re okay.”
Dead.
Okay.
I focus. In front of me, stopped at the lights, is a young man on a motorcycle, eyes ahead, probably just traveling to work.
“It’s not him,” Noah says softly into my ear. “You’re okay.”
“I’m … I’m sorry,” I whisper.