He was in such unimaginable pain. How could anyone exist like this? He had done so, I could tell, for a long time. This was old pain, etched deep into him, beyond walls he had constructed over the course of years to keep it in.
He started to push himself to his elbows and help me up, but before he could, I rolled onto my knees and pushed him back down.
“What are—” he started.
“Sh,” I said, gently pushing him back to the furs, my palms against his chest again.
I reached for his threads. This time, I stroked them gently—I had worked whatever I could free from his curse, but this was something else.
No, like I’d told Atrius, I was no healer. But I knew how to sedate—though usually for far less benevolent purposes than this.
Atrius went rigid. His eyelids fluttered, though he yanked them back open every few seconds. He didn’t have the strength to raise a mental wall against me, but he tried anyway.
I slid one hand down his arm, my thumb tracing a comforting circle.
“Don’t fight it,” I whispered.
“I don’t have time—” he choked. “I have to—”
“Shh.”
He was tired. So, so tired. When he gave up, he did it all at once.
His hand slid around mine, so his palm lay atop it. I could feel his eyes on me, holding on for as long as he could.
“Thank you,” he rasped, finally.
And then he let himself fall.
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.