My head whipped in the direction of the sound, heart slamming against my ribs. I backed up. Slowly. Step by step until I was near the wall, far from the windows. My eyes didn’t leave the front door. Then I grabbed the nearest thing I could use as a weapon—a mug. A freaking ceramic mug. Great. Real threatening. “Ethan?” I called again, louder this time. And that’s when the door opened. I nearly flung the mug. Nearly. But then— He stepped in. Ethan. But not the Ethan I knew. Not the one who smirked at me like he had the upper hand in every room. Not the one who whispered teasing things just to make me flustered. This Ethan—he looked like death had chewed him up and spit him back out. He was walking sluggishly, like every step cost him something. Blood trickled from several wounds on his torso, soaking through what was left of his shirt—if you could even call that thing hanging off his shoulder a shirt. His skin was streaked with crimson and dust, and there were lo
I woke up with my face half-buried in the pillow and drool sticking the corner of my mouth to the cotton. Attractive. I groaned and rolled onto my back, throwing an arm over my eyes as the sunlight stabbed through the curtains like it had a personal grudge against me. God. Morning already? Or—judging by the brightness—late morning. With a deep sigh, I peeled myself off the bed, limbs stiff and sluggish. I didn’t even feel rested, just... slow. Mentally foggy. Like my brain was still buffering. I shuffled sluggishly to the bathroom, yawning and wiping at my eyes. The corners still felt foreign and a little too clean, like a hotel room someone had lived in for only a day or two. My toothbrush was where I left it on the sink last night. I stared at it for a second before grabbing it and running it under the water. Minty foam filled my mouth, and I stared blankly into the mirror. The girl looking back at me had pillow lines on her face and tired eyes. There were darker sha
ETHAN ~ She’s falling for me. God, those words hit different. She’s falling for me. I’d said it once. Whispered it into the quiet like it wasn’t the most dangerous thought I’d ever had. Then I said it again, under my breath this time, half in disbelief. "She’s falling for me." And then again. Each time, it got a little heavier, a little more unreal. Like the truth was too big to hold, too sweet to be real. My sweet little angel, with her pouty lips and oversized hoodie and the way she curled into my chest like I was home. She was falling for me. I was standing there in the middle of the room, grinning like a lunatic. Like a wolf who’d caught his hold on a prey he had been hunting for hundred of years. Then I said it one more time, because I was a sucker for punishment. “She’s falling for me.” But this time I laughed. Which part of the act did she even fall for? I asked myself that while I stood, slowly, savoring the thought like it was some forbidden tr
I soaked for longer than I meant to. The warm water clung to me, steam curling upward from the bath and fogging the mirror above the sink. The old tub creaked under my weight every time I shifted, but it didn’t matter. I leaned my head back and stared at the wooden beams of the ceiling. A spider was tucked up in the corner, perfectly still in its web, and for some weird reason, it made me feel less alone. There were so many thoughts crowding my head, but they all buzzed too loud to follow. Ethan. The agency. My mom. This whole imprinting thing. I hated how much it was all starting to pull at me, tangle into one big, messy knot of confusion that no amount of hot water could unwind. I sighed and dipped under the surface again, letting the water muffle the world. When I came up, I blinked through wet lashes and rubbed at my face. My fingers were still very pruney. I’d been in here for way too long. Dragging myself out of the tub felt like tearing myself out of some weird
The day passed in a weird, floaty haze. I’d spent most of the morning pretending to read a book, lying on my stomach across the bed that Ethan told me was mine now. The blanket still smelled like wood and detergent. I kept rereading the same damn paragraph, my brain foggy, not from exhaustion, but from overthinking. Every time I blinked, I remembered the way he groaned against my neck, and how I definitely, 100%, should not be blushing about that. But I was. God, I was. Eventually, I gave up on pretending I had my life together and reached for my phone. It was nearly dead, naturally, but still alive enough to buzz to life in my palm. The screen was a mess of missed notifications. But the ones that made my heart sting a little were from Tessa. Tessa: Camila, are you okay?? Why are you not picking my calls?? Girl, you're scaring me? Talk to me, please. I stared at the messages for a while, my chest getting tight. I should’ve replied. I wanted to reply. But what
I brought the mug up to my lips, grimacing with each bitter, icy sip. Ugh. Maybe I should just throw the whole thing at him. That would be satisfying. I didn’t hear him until he was right behind me—like a goddamn shadow or one of those smug cats that knows it owns the place. Before I could react, two strong arms wrapped around me from behind, warm and firm and way too comfortable. He pulled me back gently into his chest, and I felt him chuckle low against my back. “Let me go,” I grumbled, trying to sound serious but probably coming off like a flustered mess. “I was just teasing,” he said, voice stupidly soft. Then I felt his breath at my neck, the press of his nose as he buried his face there. I froze. Then he inhaled. Deeply. Like he was trying to memorize the scent of my skin. A satisfied groan slipped from his throat, one that vibrated against my spine, and I swear my soul just about left my body. “Ethan,” I whispered, not trusting myself to say anything else.