35. Chapter Thirty-Five - Blurred Lines
The sensation was wrong before it even made sense.
A strange, hot-cold heat wrapped around my limbs like silk pulled too tight, clinging and suffocating all at once.
My eyes snapped open with a breathless gasp that tore out of my chest. For a second, I didn’t know where I was.
The world spun slowly, thick and distorted, as though I’d surfaced too fast from deep water.
My vision swam, dark shapes melting together, until my focus caught and I found myself staring into the one face I knew too well.
Culver.
He hovered close… so close I could feel the quiet space he occupied, the charged stillness he always carried.
His face rested in a soft in-between state, not fully asleep, not fully awake, his expression smooth and unguarded in a way I almost never saw.
Whatever calculation he usually wore like armor was gone, washed clean by rest. He looked younger like this.
Like the surface of water before it rippled.
My fingers lifted without asking me first, drawn by instinct instead of logic.
They trembled slightly as I touched his cheek, the cool smoothness of his skin grounding me even as it made my chest tighten.
He was real enough to feel, solid beneath my fingertips, and that alone made my pulse jump erratically.
It had to be a dream. It just had to be, because nothing about this made sense after everything I’d messed up.
And especially not after what Kiera had shoved in my face, the pictures of him and that woman.
My throat tightened around the thought, but I forced my voice out anyway, rough and thin with exhaustion.
“Culv,” I whispered, the sound barely holding together. “Wake up, please.”
His eyes opened instantly, like my voice had pulled a trigger.
No haze or confusion, just his emerald-green gaze locked onto mine with immediate focus.
Before I could even process the relief that slammed into me, his arm wrapped around my body and hauled me in.
I felt every inch of him, present in a way that made my stomach dip.
It wasn’t the first time I’d dreamed of him with this level of clarity, and I doubted it would be the last. He haunted my sleep the same way he haunted my waking thoughts, his presence etched into me.
“I bet you feel good,” I muttered, shifting beneath the covers as the heaviness pressed down on me.
The sheets felt oppressive, clinging to my skin like I couldn’t get enough air.
My body burned, every nerve humming too loudly, and his touch only made it worse.
It was like ice so cold it burned. “Knowing that you’re playing me like a fool. ”
“Never,” he murmured calmly, his hand sliding slowly down my arm.
I shuddered despite myself. It didn’t feel cold to me. It felt like ice left on skin too long, the kind that stings before it numbs.
“But you are,” I grumbled, tugging away from him with sluggish irritation, my thoughts slipping sideways.
My muscles ached, heavy and weak, and my vision doubled for a second too long before I could blink it clear.
Even throwing the covers off took effort, my limbs moving like they were pushing through honey. “I saw it. I saw her.”
“Ira, what are you speaking about?” he asked evenly, his tone careful and controlled, like someone trying not to spook a skittish animal. “Tell me, my little lamb.”
“I’m not your little lamb,” I snapped, twisting to glare at him as the room tilted in a slow, nauseating wave. “I saw a picture of you kissing another woman! I mean, shit! We just started dating, and you’re already cheating on me?”
His brows knit together, not with anger, but with something gentler, almost uncertain. It wasn’t what I wanted to see, and that alone made my chest ache. Still, he answered at once, as though hesitation might shatter me completely.
“Where did you see such a picture?” he breathed, pulling me back in without resistance, his fingers smoothing through my hair with cool strokes. “You are my Ira. And there is no one else. I vouch for this, and may the Gods strike me down if I am lying to you.”
I wasn’t convinced, not even close, because the fog in my head wrapped around everything too thickly to let any of his words really sink in.
But God, I was so worn out in a bone-deep way that sleep couldn’t touch.
I just let out a frustrated puff of air as I sagged against him, my whole body giving in like I was some kid throwing a tantrum but too tired to keep it up.
My forehead found its way to his chest, where I breathed him in deep without meaning to.
The smell of him, all minty cinnamon goodness.
And even with the anger I was clinging to, it eased something tight inside me, just a little.
“I’m still angry at you,” I grumbled, my voice muffled against him as I nudged my forehead slightly, though I didn’t make any real effort to move away.
“Even if this is a dream,” I muttered, slurred by exhaustion and whatever lingered in my system, “you in the real world are still being stupid. You think you can fuck other women and get away with it? When you tell me that I’m everything to you and no one else means anything.
And then I see that fucking photo of you and that… bitch!”
The silence stretched just long enough for my heart to trip over itself, but then his arms tightened around me, holding me without urgency or hunger. He felt like safety, anchoring me to the world.
“You are mistaken, my Ira,” he said quietly, his voice vibrating low against my ear. “This is not a dream.”
I blinked slowly, my mind too fogged to latch onto the meaning of that.
Something warm and aching inside me rebelled at the idea, refused to accept that this could be real, so I didn’t answer him.
Instead, my hand drifted beneath his shirt with slow, unfocused curiosity, my palm sliding across the sculpted planes of his chest like I was mapping something sacred.
“Mnn,” I hummed faintly as sleep tugged at me again, my fingers slowing. “So you’re telling me more lies then,” I murmured drowsily. “You can’t fool me… Kiera told me you’re a liar. It’s in your nature.”
His hand slid across my warm cheek. “Are you willing to believe Kiera, who you have only spoken to a handful of times?”
“There was a photo, Culver.” I raked my manicured nails up his stomach, and his body responded, twitching underneath my touch. “You were kissing this blonde bitch’s throat and holding her close. Her hands wrapped around your wrist. And that was only a couple of days ago!”
“Ira,” Culver climbed over me, my body pressing into the mattress, “believe me when I say that I have not touched another woman in eight months. You have been the only one I have gotten close with. Since the moment I met you, I have not even considered anyone else.”
“We’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks.” I furrowed my brows, the edge of my mind hazing, trying to understand. “So what happened to the other seven months?”
His eyes flickered with unease. “You should rest. Your mind is still hazy with drugs.”
“No, you’re not gonna evade this question.” I reached up and grabbed his wrist. “If that’s true, where did the other seven months go?”
“Ira, you are not completely awake. We can discuss this once you are feeling like yourself,” he tried again, but I gripped his wrist tighter.
He didn’t seem to care about that. “Fuck off, Culver. I may have drugs in my system, but that doesn’t mean I can’t put two and two together and figure shit out.
I’m sick and tired of you glossing over every question that I ask with your evasions.
Tell me the truth, or I’ll walk outta here and never talk to you again. ”
He seemed almost amused by the concept. I jerked against him and started to sluggishly pull myself together. “I’m not gonna sit around and—”
“Fine,” he responded, realizing I wasn’t joking. “You do not understand what you are asking for, though.”
“Stop delaying it.” My eyes widened as I stared up at him, my breathing erratic. “What’re you hiding, Culv? What aren’t you telling me?” I nearly screamed it, not caring who heard.
“I have been stalking you for the last seven months.”
His body went rigid above mine, and my drugged mind hazed at the revelation.
“I promised your mother a bright and successful career here, as long as she brought you with her. I orchestrated our meeting so that you would feel the pull toward me. I have watched you religiously for the past eight months. Everything you have done inside your house, your room, when you thought no one was watching. No, I was there. I saw everything, and I enjoyed every moment of it.”
“Now, as you lay underneath me, I cannot picture any other person here. I have wondered how many days it would take for me to tell you the truth, but I grow a coward as the days press on. Eventually, I knew you would find out, so I wanted to be the one to tell you. I just hadn’t thought it would be like this. ”
“So Ira, no… I have not floundered with any other women.”
What did he just say?
My mind spun with all that he’d dumped on me, the pieces clicking in a messed-up way that left me reeling.
Culver was really a stalker, my stalker, and somehow I’d gone and fallen for him without even knowing it.
He’d dragged me right into his world, pulling strings with my own ma to make it happen.
Yet here I was, not exploding with rage like I figured I should.
I felt more pissed off about the idea of him with some other woman than I did about realizing the whole move to England had never really been my choice at all.
My thoughts flickered through hazy flashes: him seeing me stripped down in my room back home, touching myself late at night with the balcony doors cracked open, all the little weird vibes I’d brushed off in America that suddenly made a twisted kind of sense now.
“What?” I didn’t realize I had asked until I heard my voice echo it.
He sighed, his thumb tracing my cheek. “As I mentioned, you should rest. We can speak more when you wake.”
My eyelids were heavy, but my heartbeat was erratic. I wanted more answers. I wanted more time to wrap my head around what the hell Culver Scarbrough had just laid out for me, but my body wasn’t giving me a chance. It felt inevitable, like my eyes were closing without my permission.
I fell into a deep sleep before I could comprehend anything else.