13
I jolted upright in bed, heart hammering in my chest.
Except I didn’t have a heart in the Dream Realm; my chest was cold, empty as a drum.
Still, the ghost of a heartbeat pounded beneath my sternum, echoing an ominous beat from a faraway dream.
My fingers clawed at my nightgown, racing to loosen its neckline.
I stretched the fabric away from my throat, breathing deep.
After what seemed like hours, the phantom sensation faded.
I pressed my palms into my eyes, holding back a scream. The demonic voice still clung to my mind, much like the echo of my phantasmic heartbeat. Every waking moment I dreaded its return; it was becoming impossible to ignore. How long would it be until I acted on its impulses?
Focus on something else.
Anything else.
Shadows pooled thickly in our bedchamber, stretching as they rose to greet me.
They nudged open the wide curtains at our balcony, welcoming both starlight and a swirl of fresh air into the room.
I breathed deep, relishing the scent of night and the faint, lingering trace of roses—a reminder of the celebratory dinner we’d shared with the Weavers after the third trial.
Shadows continued to swirl, meandering over our various pillows, rugs, and paintings.
The candelabras were long extinguished. There were no flames in our fireplace.
Starlight alone provided any illumination.
Erebus was still asleep, lips partially open and moon-white hair spilling across his pillow in long, silky tendrils.
He wore nothing but supple black pants and a matching shirt, open at the collar and sleeves pushed up around his arms. Gone were the days he wore full armor and a draconic helm to bed; with me, he preferred his chest partially exposed and arms bare.
My gaze traveled up his body, lingering on his neck.
Another phantom memory sprang to mind, entirely unbidden.
Of me kneeling over him, ready to pierce his soft throat with a fire poker.
I slowly grazed my fingers across his neck, wiping away the imaginary hurt.
Erebus’s skin, pale and without fault, was cool to the touch.
His face was partially hidden by shadows, the hollows of his cheeks and the lines of his powerful jaw contrasting with the starlight that trickled in.
Even in sleep, he looked as he always did: haunted and beautiful, with the weight of ancient power pressed into the curves of his tempting mouth.
When his fingers brushed mine, I nearly jumped out of my skin.
He’d been awake.
“You should be sleeping,” he murmured. The gravel in his voice, made rough by sleep, made my stomach tighten. “Rest is important, even while dreaming. It helps to restore us, just as it does in reality.”
“I know,” I agreed softly. “I just can’t seem to manage it.”
He leaned forward, narrowing in on me. Starlight kissed the planes of his face, illuminating his eyes. “Is it the voice again?” he asked, stroking my palm with his thumb. “Or something from the trial?”
I glanced away from him, looking past our balcony. If I concentrated, I could see the demon-infested Nocturne on the horizon. It was a monster in wait, a serpent longing to devour us. And we had no choice but to conquer it.
“The voice,” I confessed. “I fear it’s waiting for me to lower my guard so it can strike. And as soon as I falter, it will sink its teeth into me.”
His eyes became steely. “Let it try. You’re stronger than it realizes.”
“Am I?” I let out a small, short laugh. “After today’s trial, I finally felt confident.
Capable of handling everything this world has thrown at me.
” I shuddered and Erebus tensed. “But when I’m alone—when the night draws near—I’m frozen in fear again.
I’m more afraid now than I was after Eden died.
And every time I close my eyes, Corruption spreads farther.
” All my doubts, every dark, terrible thought, began to spill.
Maybe it was the privacy of our bedchamber, but I suddenly wanted to tell him everything.
“What if we fail, Erebus? What if we can’t purify the Dream Realm?
Maybe it’s better to let dreams go entirely. ”
I didn’t mean to say the last part.
Hadn’t even known I’d been considering it.
He surprised me by nodding. “In my lowest moments, I’ve wondered that, too.
Which is ironic, considering I once believed the opposite.
I used to wish I could dream forever. I never wanted to leave the Dream Realm.
” A quiet laugh escaped him, tinged with something bitter.
“But the world needs both. Reality and dreams. Without reality, dreams would have no meaning—no depth, no urgency, nothing to wake for.”
My eyes snagged on the balcony again. On the Nocturne, beckoning in the distance.
“And dreams?”
“And without dreams, reality would be empty. Banal existence without wonder and possibility. We’d walk as shells, adrift in a sea of meaninglessness.
” Erebus gently tugged my chin, pleading with me to look at him.
“Dreams are the bridge between what is and what could be; they are how we shape the world into something better. The Dream Realm now is a mockery of what it once was.”
“And nightmares?” I asked bitterly, condemning the voice in my head. “Are they worthy of being saved, too?”
“Nightmares are truths we need to face. Shadows we must conquer. To give up on dreaming because of nightmares is like forsaking light because of darkness. And I don’t think you’re afraid of the dark, Esmer.
” I huddled in on myself, retreating; he leaned in, even more determined to prove his point.
“You say you’re fearful. And yet, you’re still here.
Fighting. Deep down, you believe there’s something worth saving.
Dreams remind us of what we can be. They allow us to see past what we fear we are. ”
He pulled me into his arms, raking his fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes, letting his touch anchor me. Slowly, ever so slowly, the remnants of panic trickled away.
“We’ll rid the world of these demons soon enough,” he vowed. “The voice seems to want something from you. Perhaps it will offer power in exchange. But power often comes at a cruel price.”
“I know,” I whispered. “And you’re right—it has offered me power.”
Erebus cupped my face, thumbs catching the tears that were already falling. He was close enough now that I could feel his breath against my lips, intoxicating and calming. As if his body alone could ward off the darkness lingering on the horizon.
“There is no demon that can lay claim to you,” he said fiercely.
“You will be strong enough to face the worst of them. To resist, and to emerge victorious. And I will be there, too.” There was no doubt in his voice, no shred of hesitation.
Only an unbreakable certainty that wrapped around me like a shield.
“And if you ever require more strength, you need only ask.”
His gaze snagged on my eyes, my cheeks, lower.
The silence that followed was charged with something hot and simmering.
“Esmer,” he murmured, voice low and insistent. He lifted my hair from my neck, fingers tarrying on my bare skin. “You don’t have to carry this alone. I know you. I see you.”
The walls I’d hastily built began to crumble.
A surge of emotion overtook me, an intensity I’d only felt recently during the trials—and yet this was something else entirely.
Something raw and exhilarating. Erebus leaned in, slowly, silver eyes locking with mine as he gave me a chance to turn away.
I didn’t. I couldn’t. My world was his, as if he held the power to shatter and mend me all at once.
Shadows and starlight collided as he kissed me, a moment so charged with relief, guilt, and hope that I nearly buckled. His hand slipped to the back of my neck, drawing me closer, and I let myself melt into the sensation, relishing the scent of him and his devoted lips.
He tasted tantalizing, like berries crushed over iced and mixed with something wild and forbidden.
Like night-blooming jasmine and the ghost of something darker, deeper.
Autumn air whisking around a candlelit ballroom or the velvet hush before snowfall.
When my mouth was pressed to his, I forgot everything else.
My fear of failure, the lingering grief of seeing my family members’ bodies, the demonic voice inside my head—gone. All gone.
I inched closer, tugging at his arms until there was no space left between us.
His hand tightened on my neck in response, tangling in my hair as if he was anchoring himself to me.
My mouth parted and his tongue swept in, sliding around mine in a carnal dance.
His other hand dropped to my lower back—lower—pulling me against him in a way that left no doubt of his desire.
My face heated from the way we moved, from the tension pooling low in my belly.
His teeth grazed my lips, a sharp contrast to the softness of his mouth, and a shiver rippled through me.
He must have felt it, because he smiled provocatively against my lips.
Emboldened, I let my fingers investigate his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt and relishing the way his breath caught when they ambled toward his stomach.
“Esmer,” he warned, a strangled plea. Still, he let my hands explore.
Time was irrelevant. We were both lost in the tangle of our limbs and the shadows that eddied around us.
He pulled back slightly, our breaths mingling pleasantly together.
My hands drew back up his torso, fingers brushing the black silk where it clung to his broad shoulders.
I found the first button and slipped it free, then the next, studying his eyes the entire time.
He didn’t move—just watched me, jaw tight, breath shallow.
One by one the buttons were freed, and the shirt fell open beneath my touch.
Then, with both hands, I tugged the fabric from his shoulders.