"Nothing," Sebastian says, making it clear he doesn't want to talk about it.

I shift closer to him, not giving in quite yet. "He said something about a 'they'? People who were hiding? Who is that?" I ask gently.

"Yes," Sebastian says, closing his eyes. "'They.' He means the people I never killed. The ones who I let go into hiding."

I shift up against Sebastian, resting my head on his warm and broad shoulder. "Why did they go into hiding?" I keep looking out at the TV. He starts caressing my hair again, his fingers so gentle and smooth.

"Because Marco found out I didn't kill them all too quickly," he whispers, and his voice sounds like a distant melody. "After only a few weeks, actually. And they knew they had to go into hiding because he would stop at nothing until they were dead. And I… helped them."

"Oh." I keep my gaze trained on my feet. "So this whole thing is about finding them? Why does Marco care about them so much?"

Sebastian sighs. "Angel, I'd rather not talk about this. Okay?"

I hesitate, then nod. "Okay," I say. "That seems fair."

We're silent after that as I finish my dinner. The whole time I find myself listening to the sound of his forks clinking on his plate, feeling the quiet lull of the place take me away. I focus on the TV for a while. I'm not really paying attention to the show, just the voices in it, the sounds of their normalness as they carry me away. I eat until my dinner is totally gone, drink all of the wine, and then I relax, taking in several deep breaths, feeling relieved and okay. My muscles still ache from before, but everything else feels in place, feels right for once in my life.

Finally, after maybe an hour, Sebastian stands up. He peels off his blood-soaked shirt right in front of me, and I watch him despite myself, fascinated with the look of his bare muscle in the candlelight, wanting nothing more than to run my hands along his skin. He grabs a warm cloth and dabs it against a cut on his stomach, wincing a little.

I stand up despite myself, drifting toward him. "Allow me," I whisper. He hesitates, but lets me take the cloth from him. There is nothing but the sound of crickets outside and each of our heavy breaths, mingling together, as I dab the warm cloth against his stomach, feeling his muscle beneath it.

Sebastian isn't looking at me as I work. He just keeps staring off into the distance, as if he's seeing into a world I can't make out. I listen to the gentle sloshing of warm water as I refill the cloth, then press it back against his body, rubbing it gently around the wound.

"Do you love me?" Sebastian asks after a while, his eyes still trained on the door.

I hesitate as I dab the cloth against his wound. He doesn't even wince. Not once. "Does it really matter?"

"Yes," he says. "Everything matters when it comes to you, angel."

"Oh." I blush despite myself. Sebastian's gaze drift down to mine at that, and I feel the intensity in his stare as I consider his question. Do I love him? Do I really? I already know the answer, of course. I already know it's the reason I've stuck by him all this time, the reason he makes me feel the way he does. "Then yes," I say, meeting his gaze. My words are slow and quiet, but they sound so right as they roll off my tongue. "Yes, I love you."

A smile spreads across his face. Not a cocky smile this time, though. Not a forced one, either. Just a genuine, warm smile. "I love you too. But you already knew that."

"Yes," I say, pressing up against his warm body. I smile despite myself, because just Sebastian smiling makes me smile. "I did."

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me in, burying his nose in my hair and breathes in the scent of me. His arms are thick and muscular, and they feel so great around mine. All I want to do then is to stay there forever, in his arms, for him to rock me back and forth and kiss me until there is nothing left in the world but him and me.

"Make the pain go away, angel," Sebastian says after a minute, holding me by the arms and leaning back so he can look into my eyes.

I hesitate, still clutching the warm cloth in my hand. "But your cut--"

"Forget the cut," he says, unfurling my fingers so the cloth falls to the ground. "You are all I need."

His fingers lace with mine, and just the touch of his skin makes my stomach feel hot, makes my body buzz with energy and desire. I feel his erection pressing against me again as he holds me, feel each little groove of his body against me. And I want him again. My skin is numb and tingly, and I know I want him. I know I love him.

"Can I have you?" he repeats, bringing his lips down on mine. His kiss is hot and fiery, sending an ache throughout my body and leaving me wanting so much more. He moves his hands around my hips, pressing his torso to my back, and the feel of him on me is addicting, intoxicating.

"Yes," I say as he pulls back. Then I lock eyes with his. "Take me," I whisper.

And he does.

I find myself gasping for breath by the time Sebastian and I finish. Everything about him is so incredibly sexy, from the taste of his lips to the gentleness of his touch to the arch of his muscle to the moans he gives me to the feel of him inside of me. My skin is still hot and sweaty and shivery, and as I slip on my underwear, I find myself watching Sebastian dress beside me, fascinated with each little movement of his body, with the muscle in his chest and the arch of his back and the little V veins his torso make. I love him, love him even when I shouldn't. He is dangerous, he's a killer, and yet, everything about him feels so right.

Once he's put on his underwear, he walks over to the couch and pushes off the cushions, then unlocks a mattress and pulls it out. He grabs some sheets and a blanket from a basket beside the couch and spreads them out across the mattress, tucking them in on either side.

"We sleep here tonight, angel," he says quietly, shifting the pillows from the couch to the mattress.

He sits down at the edge of the bed, swinging his legs over and into the sheets. When I don't move to join him, he pats the space beside him. I sit down, my hand brushing his. Sebastian smiles a little, reaches out, and gently wraps his arms around my body, drawing me into his chest.

"You feel so good," he whispers into my ear. I lie there beside him, in the bed, with the candles flickering throughout the huge and dark and empty living room.

I don't say anything. There aren't any words to say. There is just the feel of him.

"You're sleeping with me tonight," he continues. "But that means I have to keep you here. That means I have to… hold you here." He pulls a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket. "Okay?"

I hesitate, glancing between the handcuffs and his fiery blue eyes. "You don't trust me?" I say, not bothering to hide the hurt in my voice.

Sebastian sighs, shakes his head. "It isn't an issue of trust, angel. People don't leave you because they don't trust you, or because you don't trust them to stay. People leave you because they don't know better, because they don't even realize they're leaving you until it's too late. And I'm not taking that risk with you," he whispers. "I'm not risking losing you too."

The genuine hurt in his words is almost too much to bear. My heart aches for him, wishes I can make him better. I need him to feel okay, just like he makes me feel okay. Our relationship has always been about that; healing the other with our touches and our words. But sometimes, I doubt that I'm really healing him. Sometimes, I think no one can heal Sebastian.