The soft, even sound of her breathing was the only thing keeping me anchored. She’s here. She’s safe. She’s mine. I watched the gentle rise and fall of the blanket covering Antalya’s slender form, her dark hair fanned out across my pillow. The scent of us, of our frantic, angry coupling, still hung heavy in the dorm room air. My chest ached, a hollow feeling that had nothing to do with physical pain and everything to do with the tear-streaked face of the woman I’d driven to a ...