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Four parts of her heart were in this room, in this bed. The last piece, the most important piece, was in the bed in the other room, sound asleep… naked, warm, pure heaven. Bette was restless, on edge, her anxiety making sleep elusive, her mind occupied with the possibilities of an injured hawk, a ruined message, a threat to her family, her crew. Was she overthinking this? Possibly. Likely. But the stakes. Jesus. The stakes were huge. She made her living, her very reputation depended on reacting to her doubts, her suspicions.
Trust no one.
See the dagger in the night before it is unsheathed, watch the shadows, listen for the whispers.
Passing the window in their bedroom where Tina lay sleeping, she glanced at the black night, noting the hidden moon, the way the wind silenced all other sound, the blackness of the sky. And the hairs on the back of her neck stood up… she could not shake the feeling of impeding doom. Opening the latch, she let the glass paneled window slide wide open soundlessly, leaning out to see how far into the night her visibility went. Not far. Not far at all. It was like a blanket had been hung to cover the scene in front of her. A wall of nothing met her gaze.
The cold hit her, biting, making her want to shut the window, crawl back under those covers, lose herself in the warmth of the naked body of her lover, in the soft skin and even softer lips. And she was so tempted, knowing would it feel like to slide under the blankets and meet that softness, that scorching heat, the way Tina would reach for her, adjust for her.
It would be so easy to let darkness and dreams take her, to fall asleep in Tina’s arms, ignore the warning bells in her head, replace them with the steady breathing of her girlfriend. Come what may.
A deep breath. Then another. Think. Pulling on all her senses, she tried to pinpoint the cause of her worry. It was the way the darkness did not move in front of her eyes, the way everything about the weather and the time of night seemed specially designed to obscure, to evade detection of its true intent. The wind blew like a whistle, concealing any typical night sounds and the darkness made it even more difficult, the clouds masking any light from the weak moon. No owls were hooting, the coyotes quiet, normal rustling of leaves or underbrush muted.