For minutes, he just held her, tightly, as if someone might take her from him. Then, he rose to look at her face, emotions battling across his own. Unexpected ones. She wanted to tip his mind over and play with the contents.
“Hearteater.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. “You are both curse . . .” he whispered against her skin, lips traveling down her neck, to the center of her chest, “. . . and cure.”
After the first time, she didn’t want to stop. It was as if an entirely new world had been opened, and she wanted to explore every inch of it.
Hours later, she woke up sprawled on top of Grim. Her cheek was against his chest. One of his arms was wrapped around her, the other was hanging off the bed.
The things they had done in this bed . . .
She lifted her head, to look at him, and found him already awake. He met her eyes and smiled.
Smiled.
She had never seen him smile, not like that.
“You have a dimple,” Isla said in disbelief. It made him look boyish, and adorable, and she couldn’t believe it.
“Do I?” he said.
He didn’t even know.
She crawled up his chest, to rest her chin on her arms, right below his face. She just looked at him, up through her lashes.
Suddenly, something occurred to her. He had told her Nightshades didn’t keep the same partner for long. Soon, would he leave her? Would he forget her, like the rest?
Grim sat up. “What’s wrong?” he asked, expression filled with worry.
“You—you aren’t going to disappear, right? Now that we . . . now that we—”
He laughed. He folded over, shoulders shaking with it. She pinched him below the ribs, and he kept laughing. “Hearteater,” he finally said, breathless. “I said Nightshade rulers are typically forbidden from bedding the same person more than once. Last night alone . . .”
Multiple times. Relief filled her. It didn’t look like Grim was going anywhere. She rose until she was straddling him. She ducked her head, so she could say right into his ear, “Good. Because I want to do it all again. Immediately.”
Grim groaned. His head fell back, and he closed his eyes again. “Hearteater,” he said. “You are a bane.” She remembered his words from before: You are both curse and cure. “It’s never . . .” He sighed. “For me, it’s never felt like that.”
She wondered if he really meant that. He was her first; she didn’t know what it felt like, other than last night. And last night . . . “So, you won’t be entertaining other women lining up for the privilege of sleeping with you anymore?”
She expected Grim to make a joke, or at least look amused, but his expression turned serious. “No.” He shook his head. “You have ruined me.” He swallowed. “I have a thousand things to do, but all I want is to lock us in this room . . .” He traced his hand down her spine, and she shivered. “All I want is to claim you so thoroughly, that there won’t be a part of you that doesn’t have a memory with me.”
Isla was going to burst into flame. “Do it,” she said. She was ready, she wanted it—
Grim closed his eyes again. His chest quivered with restraint. “A curse,” he said.
Then he took her into his arms.
And he did.
She portaled to Grim’s room a few days later. Within a moment, she was in his arms. He kissed her like he hadn’t seen her in years, even though they had seen each other that morning. He leaned down, slid the bridge of his nose down her neck, and whispered in the place between her neck and shoulder, “You are an addiction.” He bit her lightly, and she gasped. “You are my nightbane.”
Isla was glad he was in such a good mood. “Don’t be mad.”
Grim immediately tensed. It took him a moment, but he eventually stepped away from her. “Why would I be mad, Hearteater?” he asked. His eyes were studying her, as if searching for injury.
“I went back to the cave—”
His eyes widened. He took a step toward her. “Are you—”
“I’m not hurt,” she said. “But . . .”
He crossed his arms across his chest. “Yes?”
She tried to give him her best smile. “It’s nothing bad! Don’t get upset.”
His expression didn’t change. He looked down at her and said, “Hearteater, what is it?”
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then, she said, “I should probably just show you.” She pulled out her starstick, but before she portaled away, planning to bring her discovery to his room, Grim grabbed her arm, taking himself with her.
Which meant he portaled right to the tree where she had leashed her—
“Dragon,” Grim said, staring down at the little bundle of black scales. “Hearteater . . .” he said. “You didn’t.”
Isla knelt next to the little dragon. She had found it wandering alone, near the cave. “I think he was abandoned by his mother,” she said. “Because he’s small. Or injured. I’m not sure yet.”
The dragon was small enough that she could hold him in her arms. His black scales glimmered like a collection of dark gems. His head was rounded. She hadn’t seen him spread his wings yet.
“Think of him as . . . a pet.” Her eyes darted to him and back to the dragon again. “For you.”
He looked at her like he was trying to evaluate her mental condition. “You think I am going to keep this creature in my quarters?”
“Yes,” she said. “I think you are. Because I am asking you to.”
His eyes flashed with disbelief.
“Please, Grim,” she said.
Isla knew he would refuse. Her mind sifted through different places she might be able to take the dragon on Wildling. Maybe she could hide it in the forest and visit between trainings? Maybe she could find someone who would make a good caretaker?
But without another word, Grim frowned, picked up the tiny dragon, held it as far away from his body as he could manage, and portaled them away.
“We need a name,” she said after a week.
“A name? It should be grateful it has a home.”
“Grim.”
“Yes, Hearteater?”
“Stop being so cruel. Look, it just dipped its head. You made it sad.”
Grim whipped around to face her with a look of pure incredulity. “You think that animal can speak?”
She glared at him. “No. I think just like another beast in this room, it might be able to sense emotion. Or, at the very least, tone.” Isla sat down and scooped the dragon into her lap. She stroked a finger between its eyes, and it sighed. “It’s okay,” she cooed. “He’s mean to everyone.”
Grim raised an eyebrow at her. “Is that what we’re calling what I did to you last night? Mean?”
Isla felt her cheeks flush. The dragon tilted its head at her in curiosity, and she wondered if it really did understand them.
“That thing keeps flying into my bed at night,” Grim said.
“That’s adorable!” Isla exclaimed.
Grim looked at her in a way that could only be described as a fusion of disgust and horror. His favorite expression. She looked at him and thought she had never been happier.
FORGIVE ME
It hadn’t worked. None of those memories had been useful. If anything, they had been ruinous. Now Isla felt far more conflicted about what she had to do.
Oro met her in the Mainland woods. She had practiced dipping her hand into the link between them and attempting to hold his powers. She could only ever do it for a moment at a time.
“It will only take me a moment to kill him,” Oro said. “You won’t have to hold for long.”
Kill him. Some echo of her past screamed against the words. She pushed the doubt away.
“You must hate me,” Isla said.
Oro’s brows came together. “Hate you?”
“Yes,” she said. “I summoned Grim. It—it was reckless.”
“It was,” he agreed, “but it helped you come up with your plan. It could save us, if it works.”
She looked at him, incredulous. He should hate her. His endless patience and forgiveness was infuriating, because it couldn’t possibly be real.
Enya was right. Oro deserved better than her. She wasn’t good for him.
“I’m broken, Oro,” she said. “You should really—you should really find someone else to love.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you think that’s how this works?” he asked. “Do you think love is something you can control?”