I pulled away, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my forehead resting against hers.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be," she said, her voice soft and steady. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
I looked at her, her eyes filled with a love and understanding that I didn't deserve. She pulled me back to her and our lips met again. This kiss was different, slower, deeper. It was a promise, a vow to face this together, no matter what.
I picked her up again, not breaking the kiss as I carried her to the adjoining bathroom. I needed to wash the night away, to wash the blood and the death from my skin. I turned on the shower, the hot water steaming up the room, creating a cocoon of privacy, a temporary escape from the world.
We stepped into the shower, the hot
