“No.”
“Cuz you just can’t handle your drink like me,” she chided.
“Stand up. We’re going back to the house.”
“No.”
I watched her waver. Whatever she was trying to do came over wrong because instead of bobbing side to side, her head gestured the yes.
“Don’t make me pick you up.”
Drunk and animated, her eyes went wide. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
She rolled her eyes on a large and obnoxious huff.
“Fine.” She pushed to her feet, and it looked painful to watch.
She stumbled forward, pushing my hand away and—and face-planting.
Feeling guilty for not catching her in time, I scooped her up in my arms and threw her over my shoulder, caveman style.
“Hey, put me down,” she grumbled, her words slurring.
With her in my arms and the bottle in my free hand, I looked down at it.
Great.
She’d drank a lot more than I thought. No wonder she could barely walk.
“If I put you down, you’ll fall. Then I’ll just have to pick you back up. Be a good girl and make this easy on me.”
“You have no right to tou—” Anya’s eyes closed before she could finish the sentence.
“Touch you?”
“Yes.”
“Hush.”
“I’m sick of being good.”
“Anya,” I said sternly. “It’s dark. You will die out here if I leave you behind. Now quiet.”
I heard her grumble again, but she didn’t fight. I imagined she was too drunk.
As we made it out of the maze, we were met by the light from the house illuminating the pathway back.
She’d stilled in my arms.
I opened the door, heading in with my find, and dropped the bottle back on the bar on the way in, carrying her on to my room. Once there, I pulled the duvet back and placed her in bed, not even bothering to undress her. Her shirt had risen though, her taut stomach muscles showing, the underside of her breast peeking out.
I hadn’t noticed, but her shirt was wet with what I assumed was vodka, making the fabric wet around her nipple.
The girl needed to put on a decent shirt. One that covered her.
Fuck.
“Anya. You need to change. . .”
“Don’t want to. Just want to sleep.”
I crossed the room and opened the cabinets, finding a tank top.
“Take off your shirt. I’ll help you.”
“You just want to see me naked,” she slurred.
I shook my head. “Not like this.”
“Then like how?” She giggled. “You want me.”
“Anya . . . ” I scolded. “Just take off your shirt. I’m not watching.”
I turned and heard her drunken stumbling as she sat up, swearing.
When the noise stopped, I pivoted to look back down at her. Anya’s eyes were closed. Her chest was barely covered by the tank top she’d failed to pull on properly. Her arms weren’t even in the shirt.
Goddammit.
I sat on the edge and helped her into it properly, touching her skin felt like it branded me. She was fire scorching my skin. She moaned erotically, and I swore I would combust from the sound.
“There. Done.”
I needed to leave, but instead, I watched her from where I sat close beside her on the edge of the bed, making sure her breathing was safe.
“Don’t leave. . . ”
I halted and turned to face her. Her eyes were closed, but she wasn’t asleep. “You always leave me.”
For a moment, I thought she was talking to me.
“Archie.” She was quiet again.
I moved closer to hear what she was saying.
Her voice a whisper. “Don’t trust them . . .”
She was talking in her sleep.
“It’s all there, Archie, in the Lafayette Cemetery. Didn’t want to scare you with it.” Her eyes flew open, and she looked at me. Fear in her eyes. Absolute terror. As though still caught in a nightmare, her body was shaking.
My legs hit the mattress, and it startled her.
A desperate sob escaped her. “Don’t hurt me.”
“Of course not,” I whispered.
Was she talking to me or her ghosts?
Shame flooded through me. Seeing her like this, vulnerable and full of fear. My sickening plan had been to use her, exploit her. Now, I just knew I couldn’t do one more thing to her. I wouldn’t be that man.
I sat beside her and took her hand in mine. “You’re safe now.”
“Promise you won’t leave me; I just want to close my eyes.”
“I’ll stay.”
“You’ll make sure I’m safe?”
“I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
I held her hand to my mouth to kiss away the pain, hers as well as mine. This war had caused our lives to be interwoven, and one couldn’t be free without the other.
I laid her hand down gently so as not to awaken her.
Pushing up, I headed over to the corner of the room to sit in that high-backed chair, keeping some distance so as not to startle her if she woke up, but close enough if she needed me.
Getting comfortable in the seat, I turned my attention back on her. That enduring sweetness in her features even more pronounced with her asleep, the way her eyelids blinked through what looked like a nightmare.