RED NOTES AND KISSES-Chapter 66: FRIDA -

The shower was long and lonely. As she stepped back into the beige and brown room, a towel wrapped around her chest, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror.

A red hickey stood out, a glaring reminder of how good his touch had felt.

She sighed, her fingers tracing the mark. Her skin still felt hot, even after the shower. His kiss lingered, a phantom sensation that made her want more.

On the bed lay a shirt and shorts. She slipped into the outfit, the shirt was so oversized it reached mid-thigh, and the shorts hugged her waist perfectly.

The scent of him clung to the fabric, comforting and intoxicating. freēwēbηovel.c૦m

She found herself taking a deep sniff, her cheeks warming at the indulgence.

The clock read 9 p.m. If she planned to study at midnight, she needed to sleep now.

She snuggled into the thick duvet, turned off the lights, and drifted into a deep sleep.

The darkness surrounded her like a cloak , her heart pounding, hands clammy she clutched at the sheets.

She was sweating, panting, running. Her legs hurt from the force, she was pushing her muscles to the limit, she had to get out of here!

She had to survive!

His dark gaze burned into her flesh, an invisible weight pressing down on her.

The streets were pitch black, the air oppressive as she fled for her life.

He was coming for her, she couldn’t let him catch her.

Her breath came in short, frantic gasps. He was close, so close she could feel him suffocating her, choking her. She struggled beneath him, her lungs screaming for air.

A red note flashed before her eyes: "I’m coming for you."

She woke with a start, clutching her chest, trembling. The room was dark, too dark, and the oppressive fear from her nightmare lingered.

She reached for the light switch, but it didn’t work. Panic clawed at her chest, threatening to drag her under.

Her fingers traced the walls as she stumbled toward the door, her breaths shallow and erratic.

She hadn’t had a panic attack like this in years, not since she was a child. The suffocating darkness felt alive, feeding on her fear.

Laz.

The thought of him brought no comfort. Wasn’t it him?

The red note?

Wasn’t he the one behind it all? But how could he be? He had been with her the entire time.

Yet, doubts crept in. Could there have been two senders? The handwriting had been different... hadn’t it?

Her mind spun with questions as she slid down the wall, tears pricking her eyes. It didn’t make sense. None of it did.

Finally, she grabbed the doorknob and dragged herself up. She would go to him. She had to.

She found his door and opened it slowly. The room was empty. Desperation pushed her forward, her hands feeling along the walls until she found another door.

She opened it to reveal a room filled with computers and strange, robotic devices. Laz sat shirtless at a desk, his face lit only by the glow of the monitors.

"Frida?" His voice was soft, concerned. He stood immediately, crossing the room in a few long strides. "Are you okay?"

She shook her head, her lips trembling. Without a word, he scooped her up and carried her to his room. She sat on his lap, her ear pressed to his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"What happened? I thought you were sleeping," he asked gently, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"I had a nightmare," she whispered.

He caressed her hair, his touch grounding her. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and pleading. "Can you cuddle me?"

His breath hitched. She knew the request would affect him, but she couldn’t care right now. "I just really need it," she added softly.

He pulled her close, his movements slow, deliberate, as if savoring every second she was in his arms.

Gently, he lifted her, her body trembling against his warmth.

When he placed her on the bed, the softness of the mattress was nothing compared to the tenderness in his touch.

Sliding in beside her, he drew her under the covers, their bodies cocooned in the shared heat of the blankets.

His scent, intoxicating and rich, surrounded her, invading her senses like a whisper of forbidden promises.

"You’re safe," he murmured, his voice low, a rasp of velvet that brushed over her like a caress.

Her heart pounded in her chest as he tucked her closer, his breath warm against her temple.

She wasn’t sure where his body ended and hers began, every point of contact a spark igniting something deep inside her.

His hand rested lightly on her back, not demanding, but there, reassuring and protective.

In his embrace, the nightmare faded, and all that remained was the raw intensity of the moment, the unspoken words between them, and the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her cheek.

His arms tightening around her. "I’m sorry," she whispered against his chest.

"For what?" he asked, his voice tender.

"For using you," she admitted, guilt gnawing at her. She knew how he felt about her, and yet here she was, taking advantage of his kindness.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring the sound washing over her like a balm. He pressed a kiss to her hair. "Having you in my arms? If this is what it feels like to be used... I don’t mind, Frida. Use me," he said, his voice trembling with sincerity that made her heart ache. "It feels too good for me to deserve."

She let out a shaky breath, allowing herself to melt into him, her fears momentarily forgotten as sleep began to take her.

Wrapped in his warmth, her mind quieted. But even as sleep claimed her, a single thought lingered: Was this man really the one coming for her?

If he was, maybe it wasn’t so bad.

She’d steal all his red notes and die in his kisses.