Chapter 64: Breaking Rules
- RAYA -
Communication is hard. Often we hint around the things we mean without ever directly saying them. But when Dex claims that only one person could text him in distress and send him running, it’s about as plain a confession as it could be. And his gaze makes it plainer.
He’s not jealous of Jay being with his ex, because he doesn’t want her. He wants... me.
At that moment it feels like my heart scatters into a million fluttering butterflies with wings made of flames. And all I can do is sit here and feel it—this match Dex has struck in my heart with his words and what they imply.
I recall him standing at the top of the steps in the loft, out of breath and deeply relieved. He did come running to help me, just as he said. He made it so quickly, because he was worried. Then he hugged me and kissed my head and made me dinner.
And this isn’t even a dream. It’s really happening. And here I am in sweatpants and a t-shirt—not prepared at all like I would have wanted to be.
Since I don’t know what to say, I glance down at the noodles and feel the flames spread to my cheeks. We both play with our forks, twisting the noodles around and making little clinking sounds against the plates that become the unlikely melody of this moment.
"Did you try an avocado?" He asks, changing the subject.
"Yes," I laugh softly, risking a glance at him.
There’s an easy smile on his face—nothing hungry or manipulative or pressing waiting to trap me when I fall under his spell. Dex is just... himself. And despite the fiery wings still loose in my chest, the surprise and strangely terrifying excitement eases.
It’s safe here with him.
"How did you decide to eat it?" His eyebrows arch in curiosity, reminding me once again of a friendly, playful dog. It’s such an innocent question and such an innocent expression of interest. I kind of just want to ruffle his hair and scratch the bristly texture of his face, which appears shorter now that I’m really looking at him and not just the ominous shadows of the night.
"Um..." I try to shift my focus to avocados of all things. "With the tomatoes and basil. It was really good. You were definitely right."
He winks, but says nothing more, and we both finish eating in this oddly comfortable silence that we’ve found together. When he comes to take my plate, he pauses next to my side, eliciting the rush of warmth in every one of my limbs again with how close he is.
"I’m going to take another look in the guest house. Is there anything you need from there?" Why does his voice have to be so deep and gentle? It’s an insanely sexy combination.
"Please don’t. They could still be out there." The prickly edge of fear climbs back up my spine. It’s completely dark now. What if someone is lying in wait in one of the bedrooms?
One side of Dex’s mouth tips into a grin. "I’ll be fine, Raya."
He says it with such reassurance and certainty that I can’t help but wonder if he isn’t some kind of superhero. I believe him. I believe he knows for sure that he will be okay.
Dex drops the plates in the sink, and I get up—deciding that I need to make myself useful. If he can run straight into danger to come to my aid, I can at least wash the dishes afterward.
"Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it." He blocks my approach, gently grabbing hold of my arms to stop me. "You don’t need to wash up. Allow me."
"You made dinner," I frown, but the warmth in my cheeks is back when every fiber of my being turns to give attention to Dex’s hands on my arms.
They slide down from where they were meant to stop me and take hold of my hands briefly before letting them go. "That doesn’t obligate you to clean."
A scoff comes out, because apparently I’ve reached the limit of how much perfection I can take from this man. There is a ceiling, and we’re there. I can’t take any more. My heart is overflowing as it is.
"You need to stop being this nice to me."
"Why?" His lips twitch toward a grin again.
"It’s not normal. You’re too..." I exclaim, gesturing toward him with one hand. He’s too perfect, but I can’t say it. "You’re too nice. Please let me wash your dishes so I can believe you’re real and not just another dream."
His smile slowly falls, and I want to slap a hand over my mouth because even though I know we both know that the dreams are happening, neither of us has really come out and said it. Have we? I definitely haven’t.
"You’ve never been treated like a princess, have you?" Dex asks thoughtfully, surprising me with the question.
I expected him to confront me about the dreams, but he doesn’t. Instead he asks me if I’ve ever been treated like a princess?
"What?" My brows pinch.
He chuckles a little, dropping his eyes before they slowly lift to mine again. "You’re worth protecting and taking care of, and you don’t owe me anything for it. You’re also still recovering from a very serious injury, so please..." he starts leading me to the living area with a gentle hand on my back. "Let me do these things. Have a seat. Relax. Or you’re welcome to look around. But you’re not washing my dishes, Raya. I didn’t bring you here for that."
I turn and look at him instead of sitting, torn between arguing and just standing here, letting the flames of these wings slowly consume me.
"Now, you didn’t answer my question," he says almost as if he’s speaking to a child—patient, gentle, caring. "Do you need anything from the guest house? Is there medication you take at night?"
I have to clear my throat of the wild fluttering that has started to affect my voice. "Yes. It’s next to the kitchen sink."
He reaches up and pinches my chin before making his way to the back door, and I just stand there, stunned and watching those beautiful muscles of his back roll as he leaves the room.
Once Dex is gone, I sink into one of the couches and wait, pulling a leg up to my chest. This house is so big. How did I end up here? I just keep finding myself closer and closer to him. If something is pulling us together, it’s definitely not patient. It’s only been a few nights, and now I’m apparently going to be sleeping in the dream guy’s bed.
I fidget with my hands, nerves twisting in my stomach. There is nothing to be nervous about when it comes to Dex—I know this. Instead I should be worrying about if the darkness is going to gobble him up while he’s gone, a casualty to this fairytale we seem to be living.
When I hear the sound of the back door opening, I suck in a breath and watch the entryway expectantly until Dex appears instead of the monster I was half expecting. It wouldn’t be surprising at this point.
His gaze sweeps over the room before alighting on me, and I feel it the instant it does—like an electrical circuit completes when our eyes meet.
"No one is there," he says with a reassuring smile. He brings me the bottle of medication and sits next to me on the couch.
"Thank you."
He releases a soft, playful growl and my eyes go wide before I realize that I have broken his rule again.
"It’s just natural to say. I’m sorry," I chuckle. "So no monsters were waiting in the guest house?"
"No monsters," he sighs, staring straight ahead in thought before his arms stretches over the back of the couch. "I told you you were safe here. I’m sorry. If someone was taking the liberty to use the guest house, my father didn’t mention it."
"Thank you for being there," I say softly. "For getting there so quickly. And for dinner."
"You are breaking rules," he sighs, his hand finding my shoulder and rubbing it.
It’s another one of those moments that I’m shocked is happening, but here we are. Dex Mobius is rubbing my shoulder in his living room. He tugs me gently, guiding me to his side, and I follow—scooting over to lean against him so his whole arm can wrap around me. It feels too natural—too right. It’s like we’ve always done this, and the calm that floods me is testament to it. Maybe we did know each other in another life. Or maybe it is just the dreams that make him feel like home.
"Can I ask you a question, Raya?"
My heart does a few nervous flips. "Mmhmm."
"Do you promise to be honest?"
Oh god. What is this question going to be?
"Yes," I whisper.
"Was any part of this or the guest house familiar when you got here? Or was it just my imagination? Because lately..." He pauses, his hand pausing on my arm, too. "I’m just not sure what to believe."
I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until my chest starts to ache. We’re going to actually talk about this, aren’t we? There’s no more avoiding it.
