I lay there next to him for hours. The sun rose, leaving streaks of pinkish daylight seeping under the drawn velvet curtains, the castle growing quiet, and I remained.
Atrius slept heavily, but fitfully, despite the sedation. In the beginning, he stirred every hour, muscles twitching and deep lines of concern or anger or terror spasming over his forehead. In sleep, he had a much lighter hold on his presence—or perhaps my connection to him still lingered from earlier that night. I could feel that fear, just like that terrible cold, seeping out.
I didn’t wake him. With every nightmare, I sent him another comforting wave of peace until he finally stilled.
With every one, I solidified the realization that this was likely the first time Atrius had slept for more than an hour or two in a very, very long time.
Eventually, the gaps between his nightmares grew longer. In the dead quiet of midday, my own exhaustion started to set in. It had taken so much of my energy to treat him. My magic and my body were spent.
I didn’t remember drifting away—only that when sleep came for me, I accepted it with open arms.
19
The caress on the bare skin of my shoulder almost tickled. Almost.
I was warm. Peaceful. Something gentle was stroking my skin, back and forth, in feather-light touches. My hair rustled as if by a distant breeze.
Such a nice sensation.
I had no thoughts yet, only nerve endings. Only a foreign, primal sense of safety and companionship and…
…Something else, something that whispered of things I only let myself feel alone at night.
The touch ran up my arm again.
This time I was aware enough to feel the goosebumps rise with the stroke of that fingernail. My skin shivered, the chills circling the most sensitive parts of my body—my breasts, my inner thighs—like a pleasant plea for more.
Mm. A nice dream.
I arched my back. Felt a thick hardness against my rear. Felt a firm wall of a body. A low groan reverberated through me as arms pulled me back against that warmth, and lips pressed against the shell of my ear.
I stiffened.
All at once, I was awake.
My dream was very much not a dream.
I was no longer sleepy at all. I jerked upright, sending Atrius rolling roughly onto his back, blinking blearily, obviously disoriented.
I cleared my throat. “Good—”
It wasn’t really “good morning” for vampires, was it?
“—evening.”
He blinked at me. The sedation would make him groggy. He seemed like he had to fight his way back from sleep.
Then a slow horror fell over him.
He practically leapt to his feet.
“I apologize,” he said. “I was—I thought—”
I was grateful for the many years of training that allowed me to look utterly nonplussed, even if I didn’t feel it. I held up a hand and gave him a small smile.
“It’s nothing.”
“I thought you were—” He cleared his throat. “I had… dreams.”
Oh, he had dreams alright. As if I didn’t notice the way his eyes lingered on how much skin I had showing now. Or the way his hands were folded over his lap.
I told myself that this was good. It was better for my task if he wanted to fuck me. The closer I could get to him, the better.
Weaver, he was actually blushing. That was so amusing it made it blissfully easy to ignore the little, uncomfortable truth—that it had felt good to be touched that way. I didn’t want to think too much about how my own body had responded to his.
“It’s fine,” I said. “Really. Besides, I get the impression a good dream was probably a nice break for you.”
I was being overly charming, worming my way into his affections. And yet… it was still the truth. The ache of his pain still throbbed under my skin, a distant echo. I knew how to withstand pain, but even I couldn’t imagine living with that every day.
For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. His hand wandered to his chest and pressed there, as if in wait.
“You are in a lot of pain,” I said.
His eyes flicked back to me, a wordless rebuke, but I stood firm—confronting it, even if he wouldn’t.
“I won’t tell anyone,” I said. “I know you aren’t a man who likes to reveal your weaknesses.”
His jaw tightened. He let his hand fall. “Good. I expect as much.”
I stood. His stare lingered on my body. I was suddenly aware of exactly how much skin this stupid little scrap of silk didn’t cover.
I only smiled.
“Enjoying the view?”
“Go change into real clothes,” he muttered. “Before the others see you.”
“Why? Are you jealous?”
Risky, to tease him like that when he was so obviously embarrassed. I wasn’t sure why I did it, other than an inexplicable, compulsive need to make light of the uncomfortable sensation I couldn’t shake.
He gave me a flat glare.
“No,” he said. “They don’t need any more distractions.”
“I’m a distraction? That’s very flattering. And here I thought you didn’t notice.”
A beat. An odd expression crossed his face. Almost a smile, maybe—albeit from someone who had never witnessed one before.
“I’m not the blind one,” he said.
I was so caught off-guard that a choked laugh escaped me without my permission, and maybe I imagined the glimmer of satisfaction that slipped from between the walls of Atrius’s ever-guarded presence.
No, he wasn’t the blind one.
I was, and yet I still was very conscious of his bare skin as he led me to the door.
“I noticed you didn’t come back to your room yesterday.”
It was a long, busy night. Atrius was preparing to march out again soon, leaving behind a skeleton force to keep control of Alka, which meant there was a lot to do here and not very much time to do it.
What I had done to help Atrius was outside of my usual abilities, and stretching myself like that had exhausted me thoroughly. My head ached for the rest of the day, and I was unusually clumsy because the threads around me were fuzzier and more difficult to grasp.
By the time I collapsed into the armchair in my bedchamber, I was more than ready to sleep. But at Erekkus’s comment, my head snapped up. I arched my brows.
“You noticed?”
“It’s my job to keep track of your comings and goings, actually.” He narrowed his eyes at me as he slumped into the chair across from mine. “Was wondering all night why you’re so tired.”
“When Atrius told you to keep track of my comings and goings, I don’t think he was telling you to keep track of that kind of coming.”
Erekkus snorted, then leaned forward. “So there was coming.”
Weaver help me. That’s what I got for stupid jokes.
“No. There was not.”
“I’m not sure I believe you.”
“He’s your friend. If you want to hear the tantalizing details of his sex life, go ask him. He’ll tell you the same thing I did.”
Erekkus let out a bark of a laugh. “Friend. Goddess, you think I’m Atrius’s friend. As if Atrius has friends.”
That snagged my interest. “You two seem to get along. He talks to you more than the others.”
“Perhaps, but it’s like…” He frowned, searching for the right word. “Do you have stray cats here?”