Chapter 1 #2
I lean forward, lips parted, seeking that cooling balm for my insides.
Baze frowns and grips my chin, tilting my head. A splash of liquid hits my tongue, and I swallow.
Gag .
No matter how many times I punish myself with this bottle-bile, the taste never seems to grow on me. Yet I still reach for it, night after night, like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the world.
Numbness rushes down my throat, stemming the calamity in my head and easing my swollen brain. I moan, then open my mouth for more despite the fact that Baze no longer has my chin in a vice.
“ Orlaith ... ”
I snatch the vial, wetting my tongue with another healthy glug. It’s hard to ignore Baze’s icy tenor as I swallow the slur of blessed, quag-tasting crap with a wince.
He seizes the caspun, eyes slitted.
“What?” I croak, falling back to the bed. I roll sideways and curl into myself while I wait for the last of the pressure to abate.
“You know what,” Baze gripes before dragging a sniff from the bottle’s neck. His face screws up, and he makes a vexing sound that almost makes me smile. “What the hell have you mixed in here? It never used to smell like this.”
I swipe damp hair from my face and tick off my fingers as I speak. “Gingerwelt, lispin, rileweed, and dogwarth—that’s what makes it smell like sulfur.”
His head kicks back, eyes widening. “Doesn’t dogwarth grow on horse shit?”
Unfortunately.
“It helps ease the m-migraines,” I say through chattering teeth, bunching my pillow so I can nuzzle into it just the way I like.
“Wish I hadn’t asked,” he mutters, pulling the thick quilt up around my shoulders. “I thought you were moving past the nightmares? You haven’t had an episode like this in months.”
I shake my head.
I’ve just learned to cram my body full of things that sedate me enough to mask the pain; mixing everything under the sun with caspun to enhance its effect, then drawing deep glugs of the bottle pre-sleep rather than the recommended sip when I wake already ruined.
Not that I’m going to tell him that.
Caspun’s not intended to be used as a preventative, but daily hangover aside, it works.
Baze stoppers the bottle and stabs it back into its spot, hand still pinching the top. Heavy seconds pass filled with only the sound of my chattering teeth, my sweaty nightgown now a burden to my plummeting core temperature.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Nope.”
There’s not a single part of me that wants to tell him my stores are almost depleted.
Or that I’m queasy about the inevitable conversation with Rhordyn—one where I’ll tell him I need more caspun imported, and he’ll say he gave me a three-year supply four months ago, and then things will get awkward.
Baze clears his throat, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Okay, well ... now that I know you’re not dying , I should lea—”
My hand lashes out, snatching his arm, making his well-defined brow arch as he peers down at my unyielding grip.
“Stay,” I plead, and his dumbfounded gaze lifts to my face.
“Laith ...”
“I’m not too proud to beg.” I make my eyes go all big, playing on the fact that he probably still sees me as a child, not a woman who shouldn’t need someone to scare away the monsters that circle when she sleeps. “ Please. ”
He looks to the bed like it’s going to swallow him alive.
Resolve seems to settle on his face, and with a heavy sigh, he strides toward the open-mouthed fireplace, black sleep pants hanging off his hips as he crouches before the hearth like a panther.
Baze is liquid when he moves, even when he’s blowing life into dormant embers. He just looks so comfortable in his skin ...
I wish I knew how that felt.
The fire roars to life, and he stacks it with wood, then makes his way around the other side of the bed. Climbing in next to me, he stuffs a few pillows behind his back and leans against the headboard, pulling a silver flask from his pocket.
“What’s in there?”
“Whiskey. Home brewed.” He unscrews the lid. “Tastes like horse piss.”
Can’t be worse than the shit I just ingested.
“Can I t-try some?”
He lifts a brow, studies me for a long moment, then shoves the flask in my direction. “Only a sip, and only because it’ll warm you up.”
I peel up and take the offering. “So many caveats. You think I’m going to take a liking to it and start distilling my own?”
He gives me a look that suggests I’m not far off the mark.
I roll my eyes and take a glug, choking the moment I swallow.
“That’s disgusting,” I rasp as the cool liquid burns a trail all the way to my belly where it swirls around, adding weight to my already burdened lids. I hand it back and bunker down, drawing comfort from his awkward angles and stiff demeanor. “But effective.”
He sighs and drapes an arm around me. “I’m going to get castrated for this.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” I slur, dragging myself full of his rich scent—blooming nightshade with a hint of woodsy undertones.
“I’m not being dramatic.” He takes a large gulp, hissing from between clenched teeth when he swallows.
“Tanith won’t tell.”
He smirks, studying the dancing flames that are gently warming the room. “To be fair, I doubt your handmaid will have it in her to make it up those stairs in the morning. Not after the state I left her in.”
I jerk upright and glare at him, taking in his naked torso, bed-swept hair, the lazy smile ...
He waggles his brows.
My face twists along with my guts .
“I specifically told you Tanith was off limits!” I stab him in the chest with my pointy finger. “She’s young, and she wants things you can’t give her.”
“She’s older than you, and I gave her plenty, thank you very much.”
Walked right into that one.
“What would Halena think if she knew you were messing around with my handmaid?”
He lifts a shoulder. “She was there, too.”
My mouth falls open, closes, opens again ...
He chuckles, making the dimple on his right cheek pucker, and I consider tossing him off the balcony.
“We tried this thing where we used a ca—”
I stamp my hand over his mouth. “ Just ... stop talking,” I grumble, flopping down and nuzzling in.
He tucks me closer, retrieving Gypsy and the Night King off my side table. “Your loss.”
“That’s open to interpretation.”
I listen to him flick through a few pages. “Well, I was going to read you a bedtime story, but some of this content makes me wildly uncomfortable.”
“It’s romance . Of course it grates you the wrong way.”
“ If I had to choose what to do with my last breath, I’d spend it kissing you until I slipped away ... ” He scoffs, flipping another page. “Hate to break it to you, but no man talks like that.”
“He talks to her like that.” I snatch the book, close the damn thing, and stuff it under my pillow. “She’s the exception because she’s his mate .”
Baze makes a choking sound and draws another swig from his flask, this one much deeper than the last. “That book is toxic,” he bites out through a wince. “You should use it to stoke the fire.”
“Can’t. Tanith lent it to me.”
He curses low and swallows another glug while I stifle a smile, watching dark shapes twist on my walls—dodging the burnt light my blazing hearth is throwing at them.
Moments drag, pulled taut like the anxious band around my chest.
“Baze?”
“Hmm ...”
“Will you stay until morning?”
I hold my breath, waiting for him to answer, pushing down the image of wide, unseeing eyes. Trying to ignore the pull of that chasm—the silence that seemed to reach for me.
“Sure,” he mumbles, leaning over me and blowing out the candle. “My balls aren’t that important, anyway.”