Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace (Dexter) novel Chapter 200

Chapter 200 

I couldn’t help but laugh despite myself as he managed to tickle my funny bone. “Alright, hold tight. I’m off to run you a bath.” 

He nodded obediently, but as I turned away, I noticed a shadow pass over his face, his expression darkening. 

When I came back to tell him the tub was ready, I could have sworn I saw him fiddling with my phone. 

“Phoebe, my hand really hurts.” 

Just as I was about to grab my phone, he winced, claiming his hand was in pain. Sure enough, the white bandage was soaked through with blood. 

I quickly fetched the first aid kit, redressed his wound, and coaxed him into the bath, drying his 

hair afterward. 

He was as docile as a golden retriever, quietly letting me take care of him. 

By the time I’d put His Highness to bed, I was dead on my feet. 

He gave me a wry smile and pulled me into his embrace. “Phoebe… time for sleep.” 

I was reluctant, sensing some kind of scheme in the air. But exhaustion overcame suspicion, and as soon as I lay down in his arms, sleepiness washed over me. 

His room always had this subtle scent of sandalwood, comforting and perfect for a peaceful sleep. 

And I drifted off. 

There was no need to check on Melody and Dexter since they were just playing their games; I had already alerted the cops. 

Robin was on his way, and he’d be much more useful than me. If it was all an act, Robin would give them a piece of his mind. 

But if it wasn’t… with Robin there, hopefully, the perpetrator would be caught. 

That night, I dreamed Dexter stood before me, drenched in blood, smiling. “Phoebe, I’ve come to join you.” 

I recoiled in disgust, but he kept advancing. 

“Phoebe… I’m sorry; how about I join you and the kid in the afterlife?” 

I shouted back at him, “No! Stay away! You’ll taint my path to reincarnation.” 

His eyes brimming with tears, he said, “Phoebe, I’m sorry, I never knew how to love anyone else. I just wanted you to fall for me…” 

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Chapter 200 

“Get lost!” I screamed. 

In my struggle, I must have kicked something hard. 

My eyes snapped open, my breath quick, sweat beading on my forehead. 

As I came to, the daylight was already spilling into the room. 

Turning around, I saw Colin sitting on the floor, his fluffy head peeking out, eyes looking at me. innocently. 

“I…” What did I do to him? 

“Phoebe… you kicked me.” Colin’s voice was laced with injury as he climbed onto the bed, taking my hand. “Rub it, it hurts.” 

Apparently, I had kicked him really hard. He was only wearing boxer shorts and placed my hand near his groin. 

I blushed furiously. What was he playing at this early in the morning? 

“Phoebe… it’s swollen.” He looked at me with puppy–dog eyes, implying my kick had left a mark. 

Sometimes, I really felt like calling the cops on him. Was he playing dumb or truly clueless?