“I’m glad that you sleep better with me.” He wanted to repeat his earlier words, to tell her that he loved her, but it wasn’t time yet. She needed more answers, and when he spoke his feelings, he wanted her ready to give him the same in return.

“And you know what is so very strange? You’re telling me the most fantastical things . . . things I shouldn’t believe. I should assume you’re a lunatic and walk away, but I believe you. It’s like I knew, in my gut, that coming to you would give me answers. And here they are. They’re odd, and overwhelming, but for the first time in a year, I don’t feel afraid. That fear isn’t pressing on me. I feel sick that Marguerite would do this, and I’m worried that she’ll do it again, but at the same time, I just feel relief. The bogeyman has a face, you know?”

“I understand. And I promise you that Raphael and I won’t let Marguerite harm anyone else. Raphael bound her to him.”

“What does that mean?”

Gabriel sighed. “There’s a lot I need to tell you. A lot. Let’s wake Jocelyn up and go somewhere and talk.”

An hour later they had dropped Jocelyn at a hotel after securing her apartment door shut with plywood and feeding her a ridiculous story about rambunctious teenagers running wild through the apartment complex after too many beers. She seemed baffled that she had somehow missed it, but Sara had convinced her she’d had way more wine than she actually had. Now Gabriel and Sara were standing on the deck outside an ice cream shop overlooking the beach and the ocean and he was telling her about his punishment.

Sara leaned on the wooden railing and blinked at him, a strawberry smoothie in her hand that she wasn’t drinking. “You’re saying women become addicted to you? Like they crave you and have to have you?”

He nodded. “Yes. It happens when I touch women.”

“Like Rochelle?”

“Yes.”

Sara shivered. “Oh, God, that’s awful.”

“That’s why I can’t . . . why I’ve tried so hard to stay away from you.” He frowned, realizing that he may have tried, but he hadn’t completely succeeded. “I haven’t done a great job of that.”

“But you touch me. I’m assuming way more than you ever touched Rochelle, and I’m fine.”

“That’s true. I only touched Rochelle on the arm once. But it just means you’re stronger—a lot stronger—than her. She has a weaker will. But eventually you’ll succumb if I were to touch you as a lover.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.”