Guilt was a bitch. Vincent wished he could shove it aside and do exactly what his body craved, but it wasn’t fair to Bryna. He pressed his cheek against hers. “Damn it,” he growled in soft tones. “Conscience wasn’t supposed to enter into this.”
She made a chirping sound of half laughter and half mortification. “But I thought you wanted to.”
“I do, trust me,” and there was real pain in his voice because he was sure his cock was going to explode out of his pants. “But I am supposed to be helping you, not taking advantage of a vulnerable moment.” Not to mention he’d done that the last time and she’d still died.
“This sucks,” she said with another sniffle. “I really need you right now.”
“No,” he said in a tone as neutral as he could make it. “You want Vincent. I’m not him an—” He bit his tongue to keep from saying anymore, but she’d picked up the slip anyway.
“What were you going to say?”
“Sleep. I promise I will make sure your author has the fear of God instilled into him for tarnishing your memory of Vincent.” There, that had to do it.
She snorted, but didn’t move away from his embrace. “Thanks, and I’ll hold you to that, but what were you going to say? You’re not him, duh, but what else were you going to say?”
“Anyway. I’m not him anyway.”
“Liar,” she accused.
“You’re ruining the anonymous savior,” he chided gently. “You need rest. A living body needs all the care you can give it to be healthy and strong.”
She twisted and shifted around until she was situated on top of him with her body curled up on his lap and her head tucked up under his chin. “Fine. Be that way, but if I still want to in the morning, I won’t be happy with rejection a second time.”
Ouch. Damn it! Why did she always have to know the right words to cut into him? “Sex is cumbersome with a cloak and hood.”
She let out a soft sigh and relaxed against him. “Then when it gets dark again—if I live that long.”
“You’re trying to twist my brain,” he accused. “Bryna, please, I only have so much nobility before my true self shines through.”
“Just my luck,” she muttered. “A guy who might actually not be a creep, and not only is he dead, but he also can’t have mindless sex.”
He couldn’t help the quite laugh. He probably shouldn’t have, but it was either laugh at it, or become angry. She wouldn’t understand a tantrum of epic proportions. “You’ll have to live with it,” he said in his most noble tone. “At least for tonight.”
Then she petted her hand down his chest and settled in as he lay back. “That’s better. I might not know how to act with a guy who might really care.”
“I’m going to stop talking now,” he said without thinking about it. “Sleep, sunshine.”
She stiffened for a moment, and then relaxed again. “What color is your hair?”
“Black. Go to sleep.” It was a stall tactic he knew, and he wasn’t going to fall for it.
“What about your eyes?”
“Brown. Sleep.”
“Light or dark.”
“Light,” he growled. “Sleep!”
She laughed softly and snuggled in. “Then stop answering questions. How tall are you?”
“Sleep!”
“Please? Just one little height?”
“Bryna!”
“Night, Wraith,” she whispered and then yawned and lay quiet against him. It took a few more moments before her breathing evened into an easy, sleeping rhythm.
Great. Wasn’t he just an epic moron? Not only was he in need of the hottest woman known to man, but he’d stopped the whole phenomenal experience from happening. He was stuck here for the next eight hours with her lightly moving against him while she slept. Her delectable little body was pressed in tightly against his, and with the way she moved and moaned in her sleep, he knew she wasn’t dreaming of his death. No, she wasn’t dreaming of Vincent at all. She was dreaming of hot, grinding sex with Wraith. Damn it. It was pathetic to be jealous of himself—in a dream, no less—but he was.
* * * *
Bryna came slowly awake as she ground her hips against the heat of a male body. Sometime during the night, his hand had slipped up under her shirt, and his nimble fingers massaged along her spine. So many times she’d remembered waking up in this exact state. The musk of the man beside her brought the past into the present.
“Vincent?” Her eyes fluttered open in the pre-dawn hours. A faint touch of blue touched the dark sky outside the window. His hand stroked tingles along her spine. She moaned with need and shifted up, straddling herself over top of him. A silly hood blocked his face from view, but his groan held desperation.
“You shouldn’t.”
Her bottom slid along his lap as she leaned forward and pushed down the hood. A smile bloomed. Where she’d been expecting nightmares, she found erotic fantasy. All night she’d tried to have this outcome, but each time she’d shoved back Wraith’s hood, the man under her wasn’t the man she wanted.
Vincent stared up at her with his sienna eyes. He’d aged as if he’d not missed a day of life. A ragged scar slashed across his face. A hint of nightmare, but she shook her head, working past it. She wanted one more time with her Vincent, even if it could only be in a dream. She traced her finger along the faded line. It erased the last traces of boyishness he’d had in life, but she liked it. It made her bad boy, and she wasn’t about to quibble the meaning of mysterious scars in a dreamscape.
It was his birthday. Every man deserved a good blowjob on his birthday. She leaned up and dragged her mouth over his. Damn. He tasted the way she remembered him, and his mouth was remembered ecstasy. She moved her hands down his torso, feeling the hard contours of his muscles. “Let me,” she breathed against his ear. “You’ll like it.”
He groaned and his head dropped back, his hips pushing into hers. “Don’t have to.”
“But I want to.” She reared up to take in the sight of him lying under her. After pushing the cloak off his shoulders, she dragged off his shirt. She pressed light kisses to his hot skin. She didn’t care if this man was really Wraith. She needed a prop for this too delicious dream. Her hands splayed out over his chest, and she nipped at the hollow of his throat. “You’ll love it.”
His fingers gripped her hips. “Bryna.”
She captured his bottom lip with hers and sucked. His cock went harder. “Those pants have to be uncomfortable.” She pushed up and slipped her body down the length of him and unfastened the button. “Let me help you.”
“Bryna—” What he was about to say died on his lips when she licked the crease of his hip. His body shuddered in pleasure. “Oh, God.”
She grinned as she unzipped his pants and pulled them down lower on his hips. She lowered her head and focused her hot attention on tasting his skin, and seeing if this man had all the same sensitive spots her beloved Vincent had. She licked along his hip again, and then lightly sucked the skin at the pressure point right there.
He sucked in a breath, and his hips jerked forward. His fingers tangled in her hair. “Holy hell,” he groaned. “Please—” Then let out another soft groan.
She smirked up at him. She sat up and pulled off her shirt, and tossed it to the floor. She leaned forward and let her hard nipples skim down his chest. She stopped her descent to spend a few moments tantalizing his nipples before licking her way down his hard abdomen. His breath caught, and his body trembled at all the right spots to keep her firmly locked in her wonderful fantasy.
*
“Bryna.” Her name on his lips was the giving into what was about to happen. He thrust up into her despite the fabric blocking his entrance into her tight, firm body. He slipped his hands up her back, and tangled one hand in her hair at the nap of her neck. He forced her to look at him. “You don’t have to do this.”
Her eyes narrowed, and then she lowered her head and licked around his navel. “Oh, but I want to.” She pulled out of his hold, and went back to her task of driving him mad. Her soft, hot hands glided over his sensitized flesh. She kept eye contact with him as she moved lower. When she was even with the low-riding waistband of his pants, she shoved them down, freeing his cock from the painful constraint. She flashed an impish grin before she licked his entire length. Her body shuddered with pleasure when he moaned. His hand fisted in her hair, seeming on its own accord, as her mouth wrapped around him.
Vincent knew he was going to die. Not what he’d experienced before, but a sweet kind of death that only left him one road to Heaven. The way she knew how to use her mouth and tongue to cause effects he’d never experienced before could be his undoing. He didn’t care how she gained the experience. Dear God. If there was ever a better reason to find Oblivion, it was with her mouth working him to the point he was sure he was going to embarrass himself.
He had to work at loosening the hold he had of her hair. As much as he’d die to have her finish him, he wanted this to be something more. Gently, but firmly he tugged her head back.
She stopped and looked up at him with apprehension. “You don’t like it?”
“Bryna,” he croaked out. Yeah, he was going to make an embarrassing mess of this, but he might be able to salvage it. “You,” was what he managed to eke out in a raspy voice. He looped one hand around her and pulled her up so she was straddled over him again. His hand was still tangled in her fiery hair. He used it to tug her head back and drag his mouth along the column of her throat. “You first.”
She leaned back and studied him for a long couple of moments before she scooted forward over him and leaned down. Her soft lips touched his before she pushed herself up. Her emerald gaze locked on to his as he moved his hands to cover her breasts.
Then it became about taste and touch and need. Their bodies moved together like practiced lovers. He knew each little spot and crevice to touch or lick or slide his fingers into to make her squirm over him. He loved each sound. He needed them. He watched the way she moved. He hoped every drop of love he felt for her seeped through. She needed to feel it. He needed her to feel it.
Her bottom brushed and ground against him until there was no hope for him to hang on. He jabbed his fingers in deep and stroked them along her velvety insides in just the right place to make her come. Watching her as she came on his hand was something he could do until the time stopped. When her body finished quaking around his fingers, he dragged his hands over her soft skin, wanting to touch every part of her.
He closed his eyes at the exquisite feel of her breasts in his hands. He lightly brushed the pads of his thumbs over taut nipples. He grinned when she let out a soft sigh.
“Vincent.”
He looked at her face as he pushed up to a seated position. He captured her body against his as he lowered his head to skim his lips down her throat. “Need,” was all he could rasp out. The grinding need to be one with her refused to be ignored. He gritted his teeth against the mad desire and tipped her back. He captured the tip of one of her luscious breasts with his mouth, and then he worshiped the other.
He hoped every drop of love he felt for her seeped through. She needed to feel it. He needed her to feel it.
Her bottom brushed and ground against him until there was no hope for him to hang on. He slipped his fingers in deep inside of her wonderful body and stroked them along her velvety, slick walls in just the right place to make her come.
His gaze was locked on hers as he watched her come undone in his arms.
Oh yeah. His body shuddered, and he gritted his teeth as she convulsed around his fingers. She bowed back, and his name tore from her in a beautiful erotic moan. In that second he pulled his fingers out, wrapped his hands around her hips, then he lifted her up and impaled her.
He lifted her up and pulled her down hard on him for a second time. He repeatedly lifted and reentered her over and over as he looked into her soul-stealing eyes. Her body spasmed again as he moved her on him at the frantic pace. The release was mind-blowing. He held onto her like she was his last thread to life until they both started to breathe again after the impact of the soul-melding high.
Her sweat-dampened body relaxed against him. “I love you, Vincent,” she murmured as she drifted back into sleep.
Vincent held her as his body still trembled. Bad. Stupid. Idiot. Those words weren’t enough to describe what he’d just done to his wonderful Bryna. She was going to be pissed off with him when the sun was fully up, but he’d handle it. Until then, he’d enjoy this time to hold her against his body skin to skin.
* * * *
Bryna woke up alone. If she weren’t naked, she could have convinced herself it had been a dream—really, she could have—but she was.
She let out a long sigh as she dragged herself to the end of the bed and fished her shirt off the floor and pulled it on. Great. She really had gone down the tubes. She stumbled into the bathroom to take care of morning business. She’d had the most wonderful sex she’d had since Vincent. It was because she’d let herself get wrapped up in a dream. It was the only way she’d allow herself to keep the wonderfulness of it.
And it had been wonderful.
Wraith was Vincent’s friend. She wasn’t sure she believed that one could develop new friendships once a person was dead, but she’d go with it for now. There were things she had to do today. One was her little visit to Shawn, and the other was visiting Vincent’s grave.
She finished up in the bathroom and tried to keep tears from blurring her vision. Today was the one day she was supposed to keep sacred. She’d not only screwed it up by having sex, but she’d used her wish to be with Vincent one last time as an excuse to let a man she didn’t even know what he looked like into her bed to make the experience as real as possible.
What would Vincent think of her now?
The tears slipped down her cheeks as she made it into the kitchen.
A hooded Wraith sat calmly at the kitchen table. At the seat across from him was a plate with two pickles and some American cheese and a steaming cup of black coffee.
She cried harder.
“Bryna?”
She refused to look at him as she stumbled to the chair and sat down. “You might not want to stick around today if you don’t have to. I can get pretty bad.” There. That should keep him from knowing she’d messed up hugely in the early morning. Too bad she hadn’t gotten a good look at his face. She’d been so wrapped up in her Vincent fantasy she’d projected his face onto Wraith.
“Why are you crying?”
Eww. She didn’t want to deal with this. “Don’t, okay? We had sex, and I said the wrong name. It happened, and I’m a shit for doing it.”
“No,” he said softly. “I’m not going to let you do this to yourself. I thought I could. I thought it would be best if you didn’t know, but honestly, I can’t fucking handle it.”
Pickles and peanut butter. “Look, I know you know him. He was the only person on the planet who knew I like pickles and cheese. You know him. I get it. So we’re going to pretend that didn’t happen and—”
Someone started pounding on the door.
“Who the hell—” Bryna started, but Wraith stood up.
His body was strung tight. “You sleep with the landlord to keep the rent low for the elderly residents.”
Ouch. He was brutal. How the heck he knew that, she’d never know, but there wasn’t any point in lying to him. “Yeah.”
“It never happens again.” He got up from the table.
Somehow, yesterday she’d totally missed the menace in the man. Maybe it was because she couldn’t see his face. Or maybe it was because she hadn’t bothered to see just how large he really was, or, she didn’t know, but she was pretty sure whoever was on the other side of that door was going to die.
“Wraith!” She scrambled after him, but his long stride carried him to the door much faster.
He jerked the door open, wrapped his hammer-like fist around her landlord, Darby’s, throat and picked the man up off the floor by a full foot. He put his face right in Darby’s and snarled, “It’s called coerced rape, asshole. Do it again and not only will the authorities know exactly what you are doing, but there is a special place in Hell for people like you.”
Darby’s face went white. His eyes went huge as if he was watching some horror only he could see. Then he screamed like a little girl not once, not twice, but three times before he peed in his pants and yowled as his hands frantically clutched at Wraith’s wrist. “I won’t,” he cried pathetically. “Please. Make it stop!”
Wraith hurled the smaller man across the hall and into the wall. Darby stood up and swayed for a few moments before he turned and ran down the hall.
“Wraith!” Bryna growled at him through gritted teeth. “Why did you do that? I consented. He didn’t do anything.”
“He’s lucky I didn’t kill him,” he snapped out as he rounded on her. “Would you have bothered to give him the time of day if he hadn’t given you the ultimatum?”
Her arms wrapped around her midsection and she looked down at the floor. “Do we have to do this in the hall?”
“Yes. I want an answer!”
“Why does it matter?” It shouldn’t matter what he thought of her, but it did. This so wasn’t good. This was supposed to be the day she fell apart about Vincent, not get herself worked up into a frenzy because her most recent bed buddy was getting wickedly possessive.
“Bryna, listen to me carefully.” He waited for her to meet his gaze. “I don’t care how many other men there have been. I don’t need or want to know. I don’t care why you slept with them, nor do I care if you did it because you felt something for them or because it was just something to do, but I do care if you did it because you felt you had to do it when you would have otherwise said no.”
She couldn’t deal with this. Not in the hall. Not where her neighbors would be able to hear. Not with a man she’d called the wrong name during sex, and he still had the audacity to become possessive afterward.
Then, as if her life hadn’t taken a turn for the absolute worst, her neighbor from across the hall chose that exact moment to open her door.
“Morning, Peggy,” she said as a round of yapping from her nasty little dog named Pookie bit into her already pounding head. “Can I help you with anything?”
She almost missed the old woman taking a swipe at Wraith. She darted and caught the umbrella before she’d be able to hit him. “Peggy, sweetheart, you can’t go around hitting men forty years younger than you and about three times bigger than you.”
“Oh yes, I can. You really need to learn how to pick a man. We need you here with us.” Peggy glared up at Wraith. “Who is this ruffian?”
Before Bryna could say anything else, Wraith confiscated the umbrella and then picked up the madly yapping Pookie. He growled low at the dog. “Give it up. You know better than this.”
The dog’s eyes went so huge Bryna was worried they were going to pop out of its little white head. The dog looked away and made a small whining sound. Wraith placed it on the floor and gave it a look before he handed Peggy back her umbrella. He shoved back his hood and leaned down so he was face-to-face with the older woman. “I’m her boyfriend, and I am going to fix every fucked-up thing in her life. You don’t need to worry about her anymore.”
“Oh, jeez, Wraith, why did you tell her that?”
He turned on her. “Because it’s true.”
Bryna stumbled back two steps and pressed herself up against the wall next to her door. No. It wasn’t. It couldn’t. Pickles and peanut butter. She lost her mind. That explained everything. That was it. It had to be. She smiled at Peggy. “Don’t worry. He can’t hurt me.” He couldn’t hurt anyone. He was a true figment of her imagination. She’d wake up in a little bit, and he’d be gone. Wow. Her nightmares had taken a sinister twist. She moved away from the wall and then planted both of her hands on Wraith’s chest and tried her best to push him back into her apartment. “Damn you, move!”
Only then did he allow her to shove him back inside. She slammed the door and glared up at him. “Not funny. You’re a shape shifter. I want to see the real you.”
All the anger and danger in him vaporized. He moved to the other side of the room and looked at her with the most haunted look she’d ever seen.
“It’s me, sunshine. I’m sorry. I have no idea what the hell I am doing. I just know you need to live.”
Her face crumpled, and she was sure her heart was somewhere in her feet. She swayed and sat down on the floor right in front of the door. “You’re not Vincent.”
“I am, babe. You need to believe that. Like in the cheesy B-rated horror flicks. I came back to save your life.”
Tears. Damn it. She had more tears. It was expected on his birthday. She was sure she was going to be sick. “So I guess you really were the birthday boy.”
He sat down on the floor across from her. His knees pulled up, and his elbows rested on them as he looked at her. “Yeah, about that. I shouldn’t have let it get that far.” He let out an explosive breath. “Fuck that. I wanted you. I also didn’t want me fucking up your life more than I already have. I thought if we—I—could just feel you one more time, I’d be able to do my job, and then let you go once you were safe.”
She wiped her eyes with her palms. “I killed you.”
“Damn it, Bryna,” he roared. “No. Draven killed me. I love you. I’ve always loved you, and you love me. You wouldn’t have been able to kill me. If nothing else, you have to believe that?”
“But I—”
“I know,” he said as he shifted and started coming closer to her.
She pressed herself up against the door, not sure she should be near him. Not that it hadn’t been wonderful to have his arms around her all night, he’d felt so warm and alive. She hadn’t had the nightmares. He’d delivered on his promise.
Then he was right next to her, folding her in his arms again. She couldn’t help but burrow into him.
His voice was shaky. “I know what you’ve done, Bryna, and I don’t care. What matters now is that you know you’re not guilty of anything.”
“How can you forgive me so easily?”
Vincent squeezed his eyes shut and nearly crushed her he was holding her so tightly. “Because I fucked up and got dead. Anything about your life you don’t like is because I wasn’t here for you when you needed me.”
She was pretty sure he was trying to rip her heart right out of her chest. She gasped for air, and then struggled with him for a moment before he let her go. She shot across the room and just stared at him. Dear God. None of this was his fault. Even if she hadn’t killed him, and the jury was still out on that because no matter how stupid something was that she did, he always easily forgave her for it, she knew what a guilty conscious looked like. She saw it every day when she looked in the mirror. “But, Vincent, it’s not your fault either. You can’t help that you were murdered by a vampire.”
“Maybe not,” he said softly. “But I should have been able to stop myself from doing stupidly wonderful things with you that’s only going to wind up hurting us both more later.”
She moved in closer to him and sat down on the floor again. “Wait a second. You’re not staying?”
His expression filled with pain. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m dead. You’re not.”
“What if I were dead too?” She hadn’t meant to ask the question, and now with the look of absolute horror on his face, she wished she could take it back. “Vincent—”
“No!” he roared and shoved up to his feet. “Tell me what I have to do to keep you alive. I don’t care what it is. If you die, I can’t save you. I’m not stronger than the demon after you, and it can only kill you.” He broke off his rant and started prowling around the room.
To anyone else, they’d think this was when Vincent was at his most dangerous, but if he was the same in death as he’d been in life, he was just confused and pissed off at himself. This was when he was always the most capable of doing the worst damage to himself.
Bryna shoved herself up off the floor and stepped in front of him. His body jerked to a stop before he plowed into her. “It can only what?”
His eyes closed, and he took a visible gulp of air before he looked at her again. “There is a death beyond the afterlife. We call it Oblivion. Nothing of you exists anymore. The demon will make it so we cannot be together even in death. I can’t kill it.”
The last time she’d seen this much desperation in him had been the afternoon before he died. Her uncle had been one of his rare moods, and while most of the time he hadn’t cared what she did or who she was with, he’d threatened to have Vincent arrested if he ever saw Bryna again. To this day she didn’t understand what the problem had been. She’d been fifteen and Vincent seventeen. Everything had been perfectly legal and easy, up until the point Vincent had gotten angry with her uncle and cowed the man back into a corner with his bellowing the day before he turned eighteen. It had freaked her uncle out, and he’d made the declaration. She’d agreed to go home with her Uncle Ron to keep Vincent out of jail.
As much as her Aunt Jeni could be worse than Cinderella’s stepmother, she’d always had a thing for true love. She was five years younger than her Uncle. It would have taken a day or so for her Uncle to calm down and for her aunt to explain to him everything was all right. Really, it wasn’t because her aunt cared that much, but it was easier on them if Bryna was hanging out at Vincent’s apartment. The whole sordid mess probably had Romeo and Juliet stamped on it from the beginning, but she kept getting that wrong, too. Now, maybe she hadn’t messed up nearly as much as she thought.
If her freakish power hadn’t killed Vincent, and her death now caused him to be sent back to save her…No, she couldn’t quite get there yet. “What did you say?”
“I can’t kill it,” Wraith repeated.
Her brow furrowed at the way he was looking her as if she had some power he didn't possess. “But…I can?”
Vincent’s eyes went huge for a moment before he let out a whoop and lifted her up by the waist and spun her around in a quick circle. “That’s it! In every other instance, you killed Draven before the demon, or didn’t know about the demon and Oblivion! That’s what has to stop the apocalypse and why you can’t die, because you’re meant to kill it.”
“Yeah, I don’t do the whole apocalyptical battles well. If you want someone to help, then we need to go talk to Andy. He’s way better at this stuff than I am.”
His head cocked and his jaw started to tic. “Andy? Isn’t he your demon hunter friend?”
Then she was confused. “Yes. You’re dead. Aren’t you supposed to know everything?”
He snorted at her. “You always thought that I did, but I still don’t. If I knew how to keep you alive, we wouldn’t be standing here now talking about it.”
Whoa, that one came back around to knock her upside the back of her head. “Wait. How many times have I died?”
He winced. “One hundred ninety-one times.”
She blinked a few times. So, she had been heading for death, but like with everything in life, it took her longer than average to figure out how to do it. She shook it off, and then her face blanched. “You’ve watched me die that many times?”
He wrapped his arms around her and growled low in his chest. It was a tingly, rumbly feeling that would have been nice, if it wasn’t making the walls rattle. “No. This is only the second time Felix has sent me back to help you.”
“Second? Felix? Back?” She pulled back a little from him. Then she decided it was good she’d learned not to react during a crisis. She only reacted afterward. Once she had time to process this, she was going to be a quivering mess on the floor. “You need to explain things better here. I don’t like being confused.”
He captured her face and kissed her before he looked at her with his too stern expression. “I’ve been dead for two hundred years. I can time walk. Anywhere, anytime I am needed to stop something really fucked-up from happening to the world, I can go there. It’s kind of my job.”
That would explain why the boy she’d known didn’t present in the man in front of her. Still, this was messing with her. “But you’re dead. You look like you’re in your mid-thirties. You can still age while dead?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I really haven’t paid attention to that kind of thing, but I’m guessing it has more to do with experience points than anything else.”
Her brow winged up. “This isn’t a video game.”
He grinned at her, and all of that bad-boyish charm she’d fallen in love with flashed across his face. The scar ran deep, but it still suited him. “Sure it is.” His face took on a greenish hue. “But I do not want you experiencing the game over again.”
“Yeah. I’ve been working hard toward that end. I don’t think it’s going to be easy to pull out of it.” The truth hurt. She didn’t want to be dead. She wanted to be with Vincent, and now he was here. He seemed to have so much life in him, but she’d buried a body.
She’d seen too much of the world not to believe most of what he said, and the other parts she had to believe because he was Vincent. It didn’t take away the soul-deep need she had to be with him in some meaningful way for the rest of forever, but what if he failed to keep her alive? She didn’t know how death worked. Could he get into trouble and be sent to Hell if she died too many more times?
Her stomach twisted. She needed to figure this out.
His hand stroked down her hair as he used the tips of two fingers on his other hand to tilt her chin up. “Death comes for everyone, Bryna, sooner or later your time will come, but it can’t be right now.”
She searched his face. “I want to be with you.”
“I know,” he murmured softly. “But you need to live. I can survive forever without you if I know there is still a you, but I can’t if there isn’t anything left of you, sunshine.”
This wasn’t fair. She couldn’t survive without him. Hadn’t she already proved how much she messed everything up without him? The thought of Vincent never existing again was enough to promptly send her into the pending meltdown.