Three empty wine bottles sat on the nightstand like a graveyard of good intentions.
I sat cross-legged on the mattress, completely naked, holding a half-full glass of the dark red vintage. My hair was a disaster, a tangled mess of jet black waves cascading over my shoulders, but I didn't care.
Devon lay back against the headboard of his bed, one arm thrown casually over his eyes, the other balancing his own glass on his chest. He was naked as well and I was on my thiry-forth time loop.
The sheet was pooled around his waist, barely covering him. He looked infuriatingly composed for a man who had just been murdered by me in twenty-four different timelines.
"Seventy-four," he said, his voice rough, vibrating in the quiet room.
I took a long sip, letting the alcohol burn my throat. "Excuse me?"
He moved his arm, revealing those icy grey eyes. They were focused on me, heavy and lidded. "That's how many times you tried to kill me but in the loops and the real world. I counted."
