Chapter 19 Eryx
Eryx
We climb the stairs to the second floor. Chelsea is beside me, her perfume wrapping around me like something I didn’t realize I’d been missing.
Then of course Nightmare breaks the quiet.
If we don’t get a kiss soon, I’m going to lose it.
If you lose it, I remind Nightmare, then you’ll never get that kiss.
Damn. You’re right. Nightmare is quiet while it thinks. Did Stave have enough time?
I hope so. He’s had since last night to get the bedroom ready.
You’re such a devil, Eryx. I like you more today than yesterday.
I roll my eyes. That’s because we married her.
Nightmare is far too giddy when it replies, And soon we’ll get to have her.
That’s still debatable.
A shadow slides across the stairs and Chelsea jumps. Her hand brushes mine, sending a jolt straight to my heart. When she pulls away, too quickly, she takes warmth with her, leaving my hand cold. I flex it to dissolve the tingle, but it lingers.
“Sorry for the shadows. They’re harmless.”
She side-eyes me. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
“It’s just one of the many differences between our worlds.”
“So am I supposed to look them in the eye, too? If that’s the case, you’ll have to tell me where their eyes are.”
I huff a laugh, and Nightmare coos, She is funny. Will she run her fingers through our hair? Ask her.
“They’re figments of dreams. They come and go as they please. You’ll see them outside sometimes. They’re harmless.”
Her eyes tighten, and a stabbing pain hits me in the heart.
You’ve scared her.
I wasn’t trying to. I was being honest.
Maybe you should be honest in bed.
What are you talking about, Nightmare?
You know, when you get a fortune cookie, you’re supposed to add the phrase, ‘in bed,’ to the end of it. That’s what I just did.
There are no fortune cookies here.
Yet, it reminds me.
“Here’s your door,” I say too soon.
We’re already going to let her loose? But she just got here!
We have planning to do.
But I want to brush her hair!
You’ll get over it.
But Nightmare is right. Her hair looks as soft as fine silk. Just as I’m looking at it, Chelsea turns to me and catches me staring. I jerk my eyes away and clear my throat.
“I thought you had something in your hair.”
She touches it with her delicate fingers. “Do I?”
“No, not anymore. Or, you didn’t. It’s fine, I mean.”
You really jacked that up.
Thank you, peanut gallery.
I gesture to the door. “Would you like to do the honors?”
She stares at it a moment and shakes her head. “No, you can.”
Her hesitation makes my heart pound. What does she expect to find inside? Nightmares slithering around? Darkness and a cold, sterile room?
Us naked on her bed with a rose between our teeth?
The urge to rake my fingers down my face has never been stronger than in this moment. Nightmare, please. There are some thoughts you can keep to yourself.
Chelsea takes a hesitant step back that makes my shoulders tighten. I reach for the knob and open the door.
Light spills into the hallway, and I get my first peek inside her room.
Nightmare whistles. Stave has outdone himself.
I’ll say.
When I asked him to prepare this room, he warned me. “The district won't know what to think of this, sir. A Castleview witch as queen.”
He was right. It’s a risk, but one I had to take.
Chelsea’s mouth falls. Her gaze flicks to me and I point inside. “It’s all yours.”
She brushes past me, and I get a whiff of her perfume again. The scent nearly makes me dizzy.
My gaze follows as she absorbs her new room.
The walls are gray, of course, that wasn’t going to change, but Stave—good old Stave—he added touches of color.
Her poster bed has a thick white comforter, but dangling off the end of the bed is a bright pink blanket.
Is that the same color as her sneakers? Nightmare asks.
Yes, I reply with a smile.
Chelsea runs her fingers over the blanket before moving to her bookcase. It’s full of all different types of books.
“I didn’t know what you like, so I made sure you got an assortment of different titles.”
She reads them for a moment and then turns around, grinning. “You did good.”
The look on her face, the sheer happiness, makes my throat shrink. “Glad you like them,” I reply weakly.
What’s wrong with you? Nightmare asks.
It’s nothing. Just allergies.
Since when do you have those?
Since now.
Chelsea leaves the bookcase and travels to a table where a vase of gold roses sits. She fingers each of them delicately.
“They smell amazing. Where did they come from?”
She turns around, waiting for my answer, and in her eyes I spot warmth and gratitude.
Heat crawls up my neck. I fold my arms and rub my chin. “They’re from the balcony.”
She nods and the warmth in her eyes instantly vanishes. I silently berate myself. Why did I say the balcony? I shouldn’t have brought up a bad memory for her.
“You can get rid of them if you wish,” I add.
Chelsea shakes her head. “They’re too beautiful to throw out.”
And something, right then, loosens in my chest. The past ten years of anger created an ice wall around my heart, and Chelsea Thornrose just melted that wall.
Just a tiny bit.
“If you want them gone, just say the word.”
She moves to the bed and sits on it. Not looking at me, she asks, “Why?”
“Why what?”
She eyes me sharply. “Why me?”
“I told you the reason why.”
“But that’s not all, is it?”
Her eyes flick around the room, resting on the various touches that Stave added.
My throat tightens and I lean against the doorjamb.
Trying to look cool?
Shut up, Nightmare.
“You’re right. That wasn’t the whole reason.”
She rises and walks back to me. Peeking out from under her jeans are sparkly shoes.
Oh, they’re blue this time.
To match her shirt, I tell it.
When Chelsea is a couple of feet away, she stops and cocks her head. Her eyes search mine. “Then why did you ask? What’s the other reason?”
Tell her about me! Do it! She’ll feel bad for you. Let us put our head in her lap so she can stroke our hair.
My gaze drops and when I lift it, she’s eying me curiously. Not like she’s afraid—which is how most people look at me. But like she sees something inside me that other people don’t.
The woman who killed my father used to look at him like that. Before she murdered him.
But Chelsea isn't her. Chelsea makes roses, not corpses.
Still. I should remember that trust has killed better men than me.
I clear my throat. “It’s hard being the Nightmare King. There’s a lot of misinformation about who I am.”
She steps forward, chin up. “Then who are you?”
My fingers flex. The urge to touch her hair, her smooth skin is strong.
You can thank me for that.
I won’t.
“I’m someone with a lot of secrets,” I finally tell her.
“What kind?”
“The kind that grabs you by the throat and doesn’t let go.”
Her gaze flicks to my throat. My lips. My eyes.
Go back to the lips!
She takes another step closer, and now I feel her body heat. Chelsea is like a lightbulb full of potential. All she needs is to be flipped on.
“You know my secrets,” she murmurs.
“I know your curse.”
“They’re the same thing.”
“Are they?” It’s my turn to search her eyes, and before she can mask it, her gaze sharpens, her eyes hiding something. “You’ve got more secrets.”
“But not about my curse.”
“Maybe not.”
We stand a foot apart. She’s close enough that all I have to do is lean down and brush my lips over hers. Would she kiss me back or slap me?
She takes one more step in, closing the last remaining distance, and lifts her chin high to look me in the eyes. “So why did you marry me, Eryx?”
The way she says my name, it sounds like a song dripping from her lips. “I married you because we both benefit.”
"That's not an answer." She steps even closer. "Why you? Why me? Why does it have to be us?"
Because Nightmare won't stop. Because when you touched my hand, roses grew and I felt something other than rage for the first time in ten years.
But I can't say any of that.
“Stop circling,” she says when I don’t reply.
She’s showing those teeth again!
She sure is. My gaze drops to her hand. I take it and she jumps. My eyes dart to meet hers and I wait for her to pull away, but she doesn’t.
I turn her hand over, studying it. “There may come a time when I tell you everything, but right now you and I are virtual strangers.”
“Are we?” she challenges as our magics beginning to mingle, feeling each other out.
A shiver skates down my back. “Our magics might not be strangers but we are.”
Why aren’t you telling her about us? Nightmare demands.
Because it will scare her and you’ll spend the next year being miserable. Trust me, I’m doing us a favor.
With our gazes locked, I lift her hand to my mouth and kiss the back of it. Chelsea goes very, very still.
“Dinner is in an hour. I’ll see you then.”
Then I drop her hand and walk away. My heart beats recklessly. It feels like I won’t be able to breathe. It doesn’t loosen until I hear the soft sound of her door closing and the lock being flipped to secure her inside—to keep her safe.
From me. From the man who wants her too much, too fast.
From the man who still has a killer to find.