Page 55 of Relapse

Industrial beams cutting across overhead like something out of a luxury villain lair.

The apartment looks exactly like Dagger feels somehow.

Dark leather couches. Black steel. Weathered wood. Expensive but still rough around the edges. A massive record shelf lines one wall beside giant speakers and scattered books that honestly surprise me a little because what do you mean Dagger, actually reads?.

Sunlight spills across polished concrete floors and tangled blankets while cold ocean wind moves slowly through sheer curtains near the balcony.

There’s a motorcycle helmet abandoned beside the couch.

Chains on the counter.

A half-empty glass beside the sink.

The entire place smells like smoke, cedar, laundry detergent, and him.

Then I notice the tattooed arm wrapped heavily around my waist.

Right.

Dagger.

Memory comes back in ugly flashes after that.

His mouth against mine in the kitchen.

The counter digging into my hips.

Noir in the foam.

His fingers inside me.

Blacking out.…Actually maybe let’s not unpack that one yet.

I shift slightly beneath the blankets and instantly regret it when Dagger’s arm tightens automatically around me in his sleep, dragging me back harder against his chest.

Possessive, even when unconscious.

Insane behavior honestly.

Wait.

I jolt upright so fast the room tilts violently sideways around me and I immediately fall back into the pillows.

Okay.

Blair, you absolute fucking idiot, why would you think aggressive movement was gonna be a good idea right now?

My entire body immediately retaliates like I personally offended it. Muscles ache everywhere, my head pounds harder, and my legs feel suspiciously like they might just give up and detach from the rest of me out of protest.

I squeeze my eyes shut against the wave of dizziness crashing through me.

For one horrifying second, my brain genuinely tries convincing me maybe I hallucinated all of it again. Then Dagger shifts behind me in his sleep, nose brushing absently against my neck while his grip tightens instinctively around my waist.

I twist slightly beneath the blankets just enough to glance back at him.

Still asleep.

Dark hair messy against the pillow. Tattoos disappearing beneath black sheets.