Nicole's breathing under the sheets is quick and rapid as if she is panicking even in sleep. She is shiny with a fresh, thick coat of perspiration, her black hair is matted and knotted, and her eyebrows are knitted with what looks like fear or concern. Walking in tentatively, feeling a rush of anxiety shoot up my back, I set the two cups of tea on the bedside table and sit on the edge of the mattress. I am reminded of all the times Seth assumed such a posture, especially when I rest my hand on her hip. I am hoping the gesture isn't unwelcome.
The moment my hand makes contact with her, her eyes shoot open. There is something uncanny about the way her dark irises look against the background of her bloodshot eyes. For a moment she doesn't recognize me, assuming I am her mate, but when she p
