19. Princess Davina
Chapter 19
Princess Davina
“Love cures people — both the ones who
give it and the ones who receive it.”
— Dr. Karl Menninger
I t’s the pounding in my head that wakes me. My lashes flutter slowly, and a sharp pain throbs between the bridge of my nose. I’m terrified that if I open my eyes, they might start to bleed.
What happened?
The mere thought of fully opening my eyes makes my stomach twist, yet I force my lids apart, my face scrunched in preparation for what awaits me.
As my vision clears, I find myself in darkness, with only a flickering candle casting a faint glow nearby. I squint my eyes, struggling to orient myself, but everything is a blur. I’m completely disoriented, and my entire body feels battered.
It’s hard to think, hard to focus.
Suddenly, awareness trickles back in. I collapsed . I remember.
My heart picks up speed, kicking against my ribs. Swallowing, I wince against the scratch of my throat and try to sit up, but it’s so incredibly painful that I can’t help but let out a yelp.
“You’re too stubborn to die, aren’t you?”
I gasp at the sudden voice, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s Cole.
“For the record, darling, you don’t have to collapse to get my attention.”
I watch as he rises from a chair and approaches the bed, settling at the edge. He runs a hand over his face, and my eyes track the movement, taking in how incredibly tired he looks.
“Wh—” I struggle to speak, the knot in my throat making talking difficult.
“You’ve been asleep for almost four days.”
I blink slowly. “Four days?” I croak in disbelief, my voice barely above a whisper. “What time is it now?”
“Afternoon,” he replies. “You’re in my room. I made sure to close the curtains so it wouldn’t be too bright.”
I try to push myself up, but my limbs feel like they’re made of lead. My gaze shifts back to him. He’s running a hand over his jaw, rubbing at the stubble that’s begun to grow in, then runs his fingers through his disheveled hair. He appears utterly exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes standing out against his unusual pale skin.
It seems like he hasn’t slept at all, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s been watching me while I’ve been unconscious.
“I wasn’t sure if you were ever going to wake up,” he says, breaking the silence.
“I… I don’t understand what happened,” I tell him. “I was fine one moment, and then it felt like someone had squeezed my heart from inside my chest and drained the life out of me.”
“Claire has some medical experience and checked on you. She’s not sure what caused it, but you had a fever for two days. You need to rest.”
“It has to be connected to my powers, doesn’t it?”
“Quite likely.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Since you haven’t discovered your powers yet, this might be a sign they’re trying to manifest.”
I close my eyes, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“How do you feel?”
“Careful,” I mutter, my eyes flicking up to meet his. “I might start to think you actually care.”
He tilts his head slightly, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Mhm, we wouldn’t want that.”
I rub my temples and sigh. My entire body aches—a burning, searing pain that makes my vision blur.
I squeeze my eyes shut again as a tear slips down my cheek.
It hurts like hell.
“Make it stop,” I plead, my voice barely audible.
I flinch as his hands cup my face gently, his thumb brushing away the tears as they fall. I look up at him, and his eyes are locked onto mine with an intensity that is almost overwhelming.
His eyes are so penetrating, so focused, that it’s as though they’re not just looking at me, but through me. It feels like he can reach into my soul and take whatever he wants.
It doesn’t hurt , a voice in my head murmurs.
For heaven’s sake.
I’m so dehydrated that I’m hearing voices in my head.
Nothing hurts.
You’re just tired and need some sleep.
When you wake up, you will be fine.
“Yes,” I murmur, feeling suddenly light-headed. “I’m… really tired.”
“It’s all right,” he says, his voice soft and kind, so unlike him. “Sleep as long as you want.”
The voice in my head sounded like him.
“Stay with me?” My words are slurred as my eyelids grow heavy.
What am I doing?
His eyes linger on me, as if searching for something in my expression. “You don’t want me to stay,” he says, the faintest hint of hesitation in his voice.
I feel too tired to form a coherent response. A wave of drowsiness washes over me, and I can hardly string a thought together.
All I know is the gnawing ache of loneliness.
As he turns to leave, my hand instinctively reaches out, my fingers just barely catching the fabric of his shirt.
My grip is weak, yet stubborn.
He stands still for moment. Then, with a sigh that seems to come from the depths of his soul, he relents.
Cole slides in beside me, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. The bed creaks as he shifts closer and scoops me into his arms, my back pressed firmly against his chest and his intoxicating scent of worn leather and honey wrapping around me.
His fingers gently brush a strand of hair from my face, his touch surprisingly tender. “You’re going to be okay,” he whispers, his breath a soft caress against my temple.
The words wrap around me like a promise.
His legs intertwine with mine, and I know that in the morning I will regret letting him hold me like this. I will think of how his body feels against mine. I will remember it tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day?—
My eyes flutter shut, the ache in my body starting to fade away.
Just as I start to drift off, I hear him whisper, “What am I going to do with you?”
“Never let me go?” I tease, my words slurred, my voice thick with drowsiness. “Cherish me forever? Love me endlessly?—”
“Careful, or I just might.”