“Does it meet with your approval?” he teased.
“It does. And you don’t know this about me yet, but I steal blankets.”
Roman smiled, following her to the bedside. “I do, in fact, know that from experience.”
From the night I became yours.
He thought back to it now. The night before the world fell apart. They had been together but in utter darkness. There had only been their bare skin and their hands, their mouths and their names. Discovering each other slowly on a pallet of blankets.
Roman looked at Iris now, fully clothed in her sweater and skirt, trench coat belted at her waist. Stockings up to her knees. Boots coated in dust. She did not seem real in that moment, and he wondered if he was imagining her, like he had countless times before. Envisioning what she would look like in his bed.
“Join me,” Iris whispered.
Roman eased down to the mattress, feeling it give beneath his weight. Iris turned on her side to fully look at him, one of her legs sliding between his own, her foot hooking around his ankle. He suddenly felt empty of words, as if the heat of her body had melted them all, but the silence was comfortable. He savored it, watching Iris intently.
She began to trace his face with her fingertips. The arch of his brows, the edge of his jaw, the corner of his lips.
“Do I look the same as you remember?” he asked. It was a foolish question; they had only been separated for a span of weeks. Not years. But he wondered if she could sense the changes that had evolved beneath his skin. The cracks and the wounds. He wondered if Iris would embrace those broken pieces or be wary of them.
“Yes.” Iris touched the hollow of his throat, making him shiver. “Do I?”
He returned the caress, following the bridge of her nose, the bow of her lips. The waves of her hair. The dark curl of her eyelashes. And he knew that she had changed too. They weren’t the same people that they had been when they first gave each other their vows. It only made him ache for her more, and his fingers drifted along her body, remembering the curve of her ribs.
“Yes,” he said.
His hand traveled farther, down to her hip, stopping only when his fingers hit something concealed in her coat.
Roman paused. “Is that a book in your pocket?”
“See for yourself,” Iris replied.
He did, withdrawing a small green volume from her coat. There was a bird embossed on the cover, but Roman’s attention was snagged by the blue envelope that was folded within the leaves. He recognized it with a wince. Reluctantly, he drew Dacre’s letter from the pages, setting the book on the bed between them.
“What did he say to you?” Roman asked, his voice thick.
Iris sat forward. Their moment shattered, as if Dacre had crept into the room. Following them like a shadow to a place that had once felt safe.
“You can read it,” she said softly.
Roman couldn’t resist, his worry and anger getting the better of him.
As he pored over Dacre’s words, Iris slipped from the bed. She had removed her boots and coat by the time Roman finished, his blood pounding hot in his veins.
“He thinks you are a bird to collect and keep in a cage,” he said, rising from the bed. The paper crinkled in his fist. “A bird that should sing only for him. I hate that he’s trying to draw you in.”
“I confess that he has a way with words.” Iris met Roman’s gaze. Her expression was inscrutable. “And if I didn’t know his true nature, he might have fooled me. But I have an answer for him. I’ve thought about it, most of the day.”
“And what is your answer?”
She crossed the floor to stand before him, toe to toe and eye to eye, plucking Dacre’s letter from his hand with a defiant tilt of her chin.
“He will never have me,” she said.
Roman watched, spellbound, as Iris tore Dacre’s letter into shreds.
She wasted no time, striding into the lavatory. A second later, Roman heard the toilet flush. He imagined Dacre’s ink fading in the water. Disintegrating on its way down to the sewer.
“All right, Kitt,” Iris said when she reemerged. She crossed her arms and leaned on the door frame. “We need to talk.”
“About what?” he asked, surprised by how hoarse he sounded.
“How big this lavatory is!” she exclaimed. “In all my life, I’ve never seen a shower like yours.”
“Would you like to test it as well?”
“I would, actually.”
Roman smiled and walked past her into the chamber. The black and white tiles glistened as he opened the glass door and turned the lever. Water cascaded down from the ceiling, enveloping them in a sultry haze.