Page 25 of Trapping His Angel

“I wanted to spend time with you and, since you’re in bed, I figured I should be in bed with you.” I couldn’t help my need to be around her. It was an itch beneath my skin, that was only quenched when she was in the vicinity.

She didn’t argue, she just wrapped her arm around my stomach and cuddled into my side. This was a new side of her I hadn’t seen before. A sweet side. This was why she was my angel. Almost like that commercial about the sour gummy candy.

First, they were sweet and then sour. Or maybe it was vice versa? It doesn’t matter. That was the way my new fiancée was. I squeezed her tight, imagining what our future would look like.

Her small snores were even adorable.

I lay there for hours listening to her breathing, syncing my breaths with her breaths. If any of the men saw me, they’d call me a simp. But I remembered the day Isadora was rescued.

She’d been found with that fucker.

I couldn’t tolerate anyone else hurting her. I would kill for her. Ihadkilled for her. I wasn’t sorry about those kills either. One day soon, I would trust her and she would trust me.

Once we went back to our home, and I could learn about her in a soothing setting, that was. It was only a matter of time before she was submissive and giving me an heir. Then I could feel what Alexie, Viktor, and Roman felt.

I’d understand.

The night hung heavy around me, thick and suffocating. Isadora’s soft, steady breaths should have been enough to lull me to sleep, but they weren’t. They never were. She lay beside me, warm and small, her body curled in a way that felt fragile, as if the weight of the world pressed on her, even in her dreams.

She didn’t belong here; not to this life, not to me. But she was here anyway. Bound to me, claimed by me. And no matter how much she fought it, no matter how much she resisted, there was no changing the fact that she was mine. Every breath she took, every tear she cried, every inch of her; it all belonged to me. Whether she wanted it or not.

I turned my head to look at her; the moonlight filtering through the curtains casting a faint glow over her face. She looked peaceful, her long lashes resting against her flushed cheeks, her lips slightly parted. She looked untouchable. Perfect. And it made something dark coil in my chest, possessive and dangerous. She wasn’t untouchable. Not anymore. Not with me.

My fingers twitched with the urge to touch her, to brush the hair from her face, to feel her warmth under my hands. But I didn’t. Not yet. Instead, I let my gaze roam over her, taking in every detail, burning it into my mind. She was here. She was mine. And I’d kill anyone who tried to take her from me.

The thought should have comforted me, but it didn’t. It wasn’t enough. Because even now, lying beside her, I could feel the distance between us. She was here in body, but her mind… her mind was still somewhere else. Trapped in the shadows of her past, in the hands of someone who should have never touched her. Someone who wasn’t me.

My jaw tightened at the thought, my fists clenching againstthe sheets. I’d killed him. I’d torn him apart for what he’d done to her. But even death hadn’t been enough. He still lingered, his ghost poisoning her dreams, dragging her back to a place I couldn’t reach.

Her body shifted suddenly, a soft, restless movement that snapped me from my thoughts. I sat up slightly, my eyes narrowing as I watched her.

“Isadora,” I murmured, my voice low, cautious.

She didn’t respond. Instead, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her movements slow but deliberate. My chest tightened as I watched her stand, her bare feet silent against the floor. Her head tilted slightly forward, her arms slack at her sides, and she started walking.

Sleepwalking.

Again.

“Isadora,” I called, louder this time, my voice sharp.

She didn’t stop. Her steps were steady, her movements fluid but detached, as if she were being pulled by something unseen. Her murmurs reached me then, soft and trembling.

“I’ll be good,” she whispered, her voice breaking, “I’ll be good. I’ll be good…”

The words sent a chill down my spine. They weren’t just words; they were a plea, desperate and broken. My stomach twisted with anger as I pushed the blanket aside, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.

She was heading for the hallway, her murmurs growing louder, her steps taking her toward the large bay window at the far end. My pulse spiked as I moved after her, my steps quick and heavy against the floorboards.

“Isadora!” I barked, but she didn’t stop.

Her hands were on the latch by the time I reached her, her fingers trembling as she fumbled with it. “I’ll be good,” she whispered again, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’ll be good…”

The latch clicked, and she pushed the window open just as Igrabbed her waist, yanking her back with enough force to make her gasp. Her body slammed into mine, her warmth stark against the cold fury burning in my chest.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I growled, my arms locking around her as she struggled weakly.

Her head lolled back, her eyes unfocused, her lips still moving. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll be good…”