Chapter Ten
Leonora
Laughter spilled out of us, echoing between the carriages as it drifted out of the dirty windows. The heat was stifling, my top already sticking to my back despite the breeze as the tube barrelled forward. My eardrums pounded, the squealing of the brakes leaving me dizzy, but we only shouted louder, laughed harder, mimicking the posh lady’s voice as it sounded over the speakers.
Blonde hair danced in front of my face, rippling like it was in slow motion as soft tendrils brushed my cheeks. I couldn’t remember her name, though her face was familiar, her brown eyes warm and her smile big. I was smiling too, enjoying the freedom of the empty carriage by being obnoxiously loud.
My heartbeat was fast and my head was hazy from whatever drug we’d taken at the club. The night tube was dead at this time of night—or morning, technically, but it still managed to feel alive. Like the tracks were breathing.
Eyes on my skin. A prickle on my neck.
We weren’t as alone as I’d initially thought.
Dark hair. Sweet eyes. A smile that dripped with amusement, sincere, yearning. Like it was a simple pleasure he’d not experienced before. My smile was inviting and I inclined my head for good measure, laughing loudly when he stood up and walked over to join us. His white skin looked tanned under the yellow lights and his teeth a little sharp when we were plunged into the shadows of an approaching tunnel.
The blonde girl was shouting excitedly, her tongue piercing showing as she laughed with her full body. His eyes were focused on me. Wholly and absolutely.
Our stop arrived and we fell out of the doors, the dark-haired man’s hand clutched in mine and his arm tucked under the blonde’s. We swayed, all three of us, like we were on a ship, somehow managing to keep each other upright as we walked.
Time blurred, stopped and shuddered, and we were somewhere else. Drinks in our hands and quiet music in our ears, and he was still there. Watching me, grinning into his drink when he thought I wasn’t looking, and when we left the pub, there was never a question about whether he was coming with us.
Until we fell. Until I bled.
Then those sweet eyes belonged to a monster who was more teeth than soul and the darkness was pouring into me, like the stars wanted to sink into my marrow as his tears hit my cold face. I was dying. I was dying and the warmth was leaving me, sinking into the pavement, into his body as he drank me down ? —
Laughter spilled out of us, echoing between the carriages as it drifted out of the dirty windows. The heat was stifling, my top already sticking to my back despite the breeze as the tube barrelled forward, the blood—the blood? No. No, there wasn’t any blood. Just sweat and sound and laughter and life. The yellow lights cast us all in a sickly pallor, the shadows kissing our complexion as we pushed through a tunnel and the stars yawned up above us, heat sinking into the pavement as the tracks breathed and breathed and ? —
I was dying. I was dying. I was dying ? —
“I’ve got you, love.”
Blue. Like ice, like water, chasing away the dark and the blood and the heat.
I blinked slowly, disoriented. I was dying, wasn’t I?
“No,” the blond-haired devil wrapped around me murmured. “No, you’re not dying. You’re dreaming.”
Dreaming. “Hayes,” I whispered and the ache in the words was okay, because this was a dream. It wasn’t real. Here, I could let him in. Here, it was safe.
I reached for him and his hair was soft under my fingers. The side that was shorn short had started to get long and I played with the baby hairs absently as the room seemed to filter in around us. We were on a bed, his bed, the one he’d had in Ashvale. The pale arms around my body were strong, holding me tightly like I would fall apart if he let go, and the muscles I could feel pressed against me under his T-shirt, beneath his jeans, were warm.
There was a languid heat between us, like stretching your body after a particularly good nap, luxuriating in the sun as it warmed your bones. Comfortable, blossoming, like it could explode into fire at any moment with just one touch.
“Do you dream about that night often?” he asked, voice soft in a way I was sure I’d never heard before as he stroked his fingers through the heavy length of my dark hair.
“Whenever I close my eyes,” I admitted. “I don’t know her name though, the blonde girl. Sometimes I think I know it, but nothing feels quite right. I did what I needed to do with Rowan. I couldn’t have done anything else. But…”
Hayes stayed quiet, not judging, just listening. “But it hurt.”
“Yes.”
“You’ll learn to control your instincts, as time goes on.”
“What do you mean?”
He tilted my chin up to look into my eyes, his palm cupping my cheek. “You’re strong, Leonora. Powerful. Even if you had wanted to spare Rowan, the part of you that’s driven by blood, by predator, could never have allowed it.”
Predator . There was something in that word that resonated, even if it wasn’t what I’d chosen for myself.
“It’s not a bad thing,” he said, picking up on the thought. “Predator doesn’t mean evil. You can decide what it means for you.”
“Protector,” I murmured without even thinking and he pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I just thought that going to Ashvale, searching for answers, I thought it would fix things. Fix me.” There was a tightness in my chest that made it hard to breathe, even though I no longer needed air. It was like drowning in emotion, in pain, and my muscles clenched as I tried to hold it in, my teeth creaking against one another as I set my jaw, forcing the words out like they might ease the ache. “But it didn’t. I tried to fix it, so why do I feel more broken than ever?”
I didn’t need a response, not really, and this version of Hayes, the sweeter, dream version, didn’t offer a solution. He just held me tighter, my face buried in his chest, his hand curled protectively across the back of my head, and when the first sob shook my body, I didn’t hold back. Had I really cried for myself yet? For Rowan? For the people I couldn’t remember but who had once been my world? I wasn’t sure, but it felt like the floodgates were open now. At least crying in a dream wouldn’t have real repercussions. My eyes wouldn’t get red and puffy, my throat hoarse, I was half-surprised that I could cry. It seemed so human.
“Thank you,” Hayes said softly, the words a breath in my ear. “For trusting me. I know the hearing for Elowen is tomorrow, and I know it’s going to be hard for you. But Cal will be there, and I will be too.” My brows scrunched as I frowned. But before I could ask him any questions, the dream became hazy and he sighed. “You’re being woken up.”
He seemed awfully lucid for a dream. “What?—”
“Nora… Stay safe. Okay? I’ll see you soon, love.”
My eyes flew open and I was met with the unfamiliar darkness of my room at court. My head felt fuzzy, confused after the hyper-realistic dream. A knock sounded at my door, thumping impatiently, and I could only assume that was what had woken me.
The floor was cold under my bare feet and if I’d been human, I might have shivered, as it was, I barely felt the cold anymore.
I pulled the door open a crack, peering out before opening it wider. Novalie. There was dark, smokey eyeshadow around her eyes and a deep red colour painted on her lips, the corset-top Emerson had convinced her to bring hugged her waist and highlighted the slender curve of her chest, dipping down dramatically to the low-rise jeans that hugged her hip bones.
“Why are you dressed like you’re going to a party? Shouldn’t you be asleep?” In all honesty, I had no clue what time it was. My schedule had become a little flipped since I’d been away from Ashvale. Most undead avoided the sunshine, but I was determined to soak in as much of it as I could, while I could. The same couldn’t be said for the nocturnal traditionalists in the catacombs.
“Because we are.”
Emerson appeared, closing the door opposite mine gently. Her clothing choices were a little more reserved than Novalie’s, but she still looked unreasonably hot in a short, tight dress that hovered between red and coral. Against her bronzed skin, the dress made her glow.
“I was sleeping,” I said, reluctant to change out of the comfortable T-shirt that hit mid-thigh and into something appropriately slinky.
“You can sleep when you’re dead,” Novalie said with a grin, like it was the most original joke I’d ever heard. “Come on.” She pushed past me and Emerson gave me a little shrug, as if to say, what can you do? Before following her roommate inside my room.
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. But this better be good.”
Novalie raised a sly eyebrow, mischief sparkling in her eyes as she turned to my wardrobe and began rummaging for a suitable outfit. “We’re at court. We might as well have some fun while we’re here.”
“You mean, the frequent attempts on my life aren’t your idea of fun? Strange.”
Em snorted and Novalie tutted before hurling several items of clothing at me. “There. Put those on and let’s get out of here.”
I grumbled but complied and had to admit I never would have thought to pair this dark mesh top with the long bodycon skirt she’d picked. It would have been boring, except for the slit that ran nearly to the top of my thigh and the fact that my top was sheer. I’d snagged a black bra to go under it, despite Novalie’s protests that going bare would be ‘fucking hot.’
She might have been right, but I had no idea what kind of vibe we would be walking into and it would have seemed gauche to have my tits out at a formal cocktail party.
“Ready?” Novalie said, hovering by my door as I finished the last flick of my winged liner.
“Yes, yes, fine. Let’s go.”
The door closed behind the three of us and I couldn’t help the slight buzz of excitement that ran through me. Maybe a party was exactly what I needed to take my mind off of the unsettling dreams and the upcoming trial.