36. The Hot Guy Comforts You
36
The Hot Guy Comforts You
You
He’s dead. Ziros is dead.
The lifeline is severed, and yet…somehow you’re still alive?
Maybe that should be your first cue that you’re dreaming. That, or the fact that you’re currently standing in your apartment, but your apartment is underwater, and lots of colorful fish are swimming by.
Yes, your apartment is under the ocean.
Because dream logic.
And you can’t actually see Ziros, but you know he’s dead because you’re holding the severed, sparking end of your lifeline.
And your apartment windows are starting to crack, water leaking in. They can’t take the pressure of being so deep under the ocean.
Crack .
It’s too late.
Water rushes in.
You’re going to drown here, trapped in your apartment under the sea.
You open your mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.
“Why don’t you cast a spell, little sorceress?” It’s Poseidon, laughing at you from where he floats just outside your window.
A spell!
Yes, a spell!
But when you open your mouth, only bubbles come out.
You try to form a word—any word—but you only end up swallowing a mouthful of water.
Then you see him—Ziros!
He’s not dead!
But he’s in a cage, floating behind Poseidon, reaching out through the bars toward you as he chokes, unable to breathe.
“Ziros!” you scream—or try to scream, but once again, only bubbles come out.
You try to swim closer, but you can’t. The current is too strong.
You’re sinking.
Because instead of a floor, your apartment now is just a giant whirlpool, dragging you down, down, down, further away from Ziros as you try again to cry out to him through the darkening water.
“ Human ,” growls a sudden voice in your ear, and something very hot and very hard—no, not like that —is holding you tightly. “Stop thrashing.”
The hotness is the heat of someone’s bare chest, his arms wrapped around you.
The hardness is his abs.
You groan, blinking your eyes open. Trying to make sense of where you are.
Still expecting to breathe in water, but to your surprise—and great relief—it’s air that’s surrounding you.
But you’re still in the dark.
And the ground sways beneath you.
This isn’t your apartment.
No.
It’s the superyacht!
“Ziros?” you ask groggily, blinking away the stinging dryness of your eyes. The stinging that says your body knows you should really be sleeping right about now.
Oh, no.
Not just dryness.
You sniffle, reaching up to touch your face.
Your face is wet.
You’ve been crying.
Oh, how embarrassing!
Fortunately, there’s a very fancy, probably-real-gold-plated tissue box holder on the nightstand next to the bed, and Ziros hands you a tissue.
You gratefully wipe your face on it, dabbing your eyes, but the tears just keep flowing.
To your surprise, Ziros pulls you back into his arms, rocking you against his chest.
“You’re okay,” he whispers into your hair, holding you so close, you can barely breathe. “You’re okay… Anzelika .”
And it must be something about him speaking your so-called true name, because just the sound of that word sends strange, pleasant tingles down your spine.
“I know,” you say, wiping your eyes again. “It was just a nightmare.”
To your surprise, he smirks. Like he thinks that’s somehow funny.
Leaning back on his hands so he can get a better look at you, he says, “You sure were muttering my name a lot in your nightmare, little human.”
You freeze.
“I…was?”
“Yep. So tell me, human…” he takes your jaw in one hand, leaning in so close your lips nearly brush. “What is it you were dreaming about?”
You swallow hard. Blushing.
“Um.” If you tell him you were crying out his name because you thought he was dying, you might never hear the end of it. So instead you say, “My apartment was underwater. And I was being sucked down to Atlantis.”
“And you were trying to call to me for help?”
“Yeah, uh, something like that.”
Ziros laughs softly. “Little human, did your subconscious forget? We’re attached. If you got sucked down to Atlantis, I’d be the first to know.”
“The lifeline was—” Oh, no. Ohhhh , no. The stupid tears are coming out all on their own. “ Broken ,” you manage before breaking into sobs.
“ Shhhh ,” Ziros says, rocking you against his chest. “Shhh, human. It’s okay. You’re okay. Everything is going to be okay.”
If you weren’t crying, you might laugh.
Who would have thought the scary-powerful-dude would also be so good at comforting?
At least he doesn’t seem to have realized you were crying over him, not crying out for him.
Because that would be extra embarrassing.
“Here,” he says, handing you another tissue.
When you’ve finally caught your breath again, he scoops you into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom. The bathroom is all fancy marble and glass and polished fixtures, everything as clean and sparkling as can be.
“Hold still.” He sets you on the edge of the counter, running a washcloth in cool water and pressing it gently to your face until some of the stinging fades from your eyes. “Better?”
You nod, taking a deep breath.
“Good.”
He swings you into his arms again, carrying you back to bed.
“Now lie down.”
It’s the middle of the night, and you’re tired enough that you curl onto your side, your eyes closing before your head even hits the pillow again.
To your surprise, Ziros slides under the covers behind you.
“ Now sleep ,” he murmurs in your hair. “And don’t worry about anything, my little sorceress. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”
Did he just call you his little sorceress, or did you imagine that in your sleepy haze?
As you drift away back into dreams, you barely hear him whisper at your ear…
“Oh, and human? One more thing.” His voice rumbles against your hair from behind, so low you could almost miss it. “Don’t cry over me.”
Ziros
Ha!
She was really crying over me. I can’t believe it.
I never thought I’d see the day. A human. Crying over me .
And I don’t know why, but I feel a strange mix of feelings at that realization.
A part of me is oddly thrilled.
Not that I want her to cry.
But maybe I’m a bastard, because I loved the way it felt to be wanted. To be missed.
Okay.
So maybe I’ve become a little attached. I know. To a human.
Yeah, yeah, all that stuff about how short human lives are and how it’s better not to be attached.
I’m breaking my own rules.
But if I’m attached, then so is she. Because you don’t go crying for someone you don’t care about.
Her body feels so small and mortal, so fragile against mine as I wrap my arms around her, my chest pressed to her back beneath the sheets.
I shouldn’t do it. I shouldn’t let myself get closer than I already am.
But maybe it’s okay, if only for this one moment.
Just for tonight.
Just for tonight, I’ll pretend her life will never end, and she can be mine forever.