Chapter Twenty OneFirst Person Perspective Elena The dream still clung to me like a second skin when the door creaked open. My body stiffened before I even saw him, my pulse jumping beneath my throat as if it knew who stood there before my eyes could confirm it. Salvatore filled the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly brushing the frame. Moonlight from the hall spilled around his silhouette, casting long shadows across the floor that stretched toward me like grasping fingers. His dark eyes swept over me, taking in my tangled hair, the sheen of sweat on my skin, the way my fingers twisted helplessly in the sheets. "Another bad dream? or still shaken by the one from last night?" he asked again, voice low. I swallowed, my throat dry. "Y-yes." The word came out too small, too weak. He stepped inside, the floorboards groaning under his weight. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing us in together. My back pressed harder against the headboard as he approached, the mattress dip
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