Chapter 31
Eryx
Someone’s hand is squeezing mine. It’s warm, solid, encouraging.
Chelsea.
I lie there, afraid to open my eyes. What if I'm still dreaming?
Then everything slams into me—the dream, Helena's threat, the monster, Chelsea screaming.
The kiss.
Her lips. Her taste. The way she melted into me. How she said I was beautiful. How I needed to hear it again—more than air, more than survival.
Nightmare hums, pleased with itself.
You're awake, I think with relief.
Of course I'm awake. Did you think a little blood loss would kill me? Though I will say, being unconscious with you is boring. You didn’t dream. It's like being stuck in a dark room with nothing to do.
Good to see you, too.
It scoffs. At least Chelsea is holding our hand. She can’t be too pissed off that you almost got her killed.
And then the anger comes. Like a rolling boil, it starts in my gut and works its way to my chest. My body goes taut, and Chelsea’s grip on me loosens.
“Eryx?”
Might as well open our eyes. She knows we’re awake.
And she knows about us—fully. She saw Nightmare and me together.
And she called us beautiful.
I slowly open my eyes, and there she is—golden hair like a halo around her face, blue eyes searching me like I hold a key she aches for.
“Don’t try to get up,” she explains. “You were hurt. Badly. Stave healed you.”
I glance down at my chest and see four puckered gashes—the creature’s claw marks. They’re healing, but slowly. “Nothing else came after it? The wards! Did Stave—”
She places a hand on my shoulder. “That was the only creature, and Stave said he increased the shields and wards on the manor.”
I exhale.
Her gaze drops as if she thinks I had something to do with the attack. “Chelsea”—I lift my hand to stroke her cheek, but stop myself—“I had nothing to do with that thing.”
“I know.”
My brows lift. “You do?”
“Stave told me.”
All I can do is nod. She gets attacked and I pass out. What kind of husband am I?
The kind that saved her life.
There is that, I suppose. “Were you hurt?” I search her face, her neck, her hands for any sign of harm, but I don’t see any.
She shakes her head. “I’m fine.”
Silence settles between us. It’s charged, the kind where things go unsaid, words that could change the trajectory of a relationship forever.
But I don’t say she looks beautiful, that I’m burning to kiss her again. All I come up with is, “How long have I been out?”
“Two days.”
Two days without filtering nightmares. Two days of them building. Two days of the district without their king. Two days of Chelsea alone, defending the manor, dealing with… what? Panic? Questions?
Stave would have handled it. But still.
“I have to get up.”
I start to rise, and Chelsea presses her hands to my shoulders. Her touch leaves fiery imprints on my skin—it’s a feeling I want tattooed into my memory.
“You have to stay in bed. Whatever you need, I can get you.”
I shake my head. “You don’t understand. The nightmares have to be dealt with.”
She nibbles her bottom lip, and the urge to kiss her until she moans nearly wrecks me.
As if she senses what I’m thinking, her gaze on me sharpens. Her breath catches.
She blinks. “Teach me.”
I stare at her, processing what she just said. “Teach you what I do?”
“Yes.” Her gaze drops. “If it will help you, yes.”
“No,” I say quietly, firmly.
Her eyes lift, brows pinched. It’s adorable.
Oh, she’s so cute when she’s angry. Make her angrier. Maybe she’ll kiss us.
But she doesn’t kiss me, which is disappointing. “Why not?”
“Because what I do is dangerous. It’s taken me years to learn how to pacify the dreams without getting hurt.”
“Perfect.”
“How is that perfect?”
“Because that means you’ll easily be able to teach me how to do it.”
I laugh. “I’m not teaching you this, Chelsea.”
“You can’t work. You lost too much blood.”
“I’ll be fine.”
I start to sit up, and a wave of lightheadedness hits me. Hard. The room starts to spin, and Chelsea’s hands are on me again, pushing me back down.
“I’m not lying. You need to rest.”
She’s right, dammit. You can’t sift nightmares, Eryx.
I have to.
No. But she can, Nightmare coaxes. She can do your job.
She can’t.
Why are you fighting it so much? Let me out. Let me slip into her. Just a bit. She can take me.
Are you talking about magic?
Of course I am. What did you think I meant?
Never mind.
Chelsea watches me a moment. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes.”
“Let me get something for you.”
She starts to rise, and I grab her hand. “No. Stay.”
Her eyes drop to my hand and the impulse to pull away hits me, but I work through it and Chelsea sits.
She’s staying!
“I can eat later.”
“Good. Because I’m not finished convincing you to let me help with the nightmares.”
I shake my head. “It’s not that simple. You would have to take part of the magic into you, and it’s risky. I barely survived taking on Nightmare, and you would only need a fraction of the power.”
“I can handle it.” She lifts her arm and shows me her bicep. “I’m tough.”
“You are. No one’s denying that. But this is different.”
You’re too weak, Eryx. She’s not.
You just want to have her all to yourself.
True. But I won’t harm her.
It wouldn’t. I know that. And if I let Nightmare have this, then maybe it won’t pull any more tricks like it did on the balcony at the ball, like it did when our magics aligned and we…
Chelsea must be thinking the same thing because she says, “Will the magic obey me?”
“I don’t know because you’re not taking it.”
She rolls her eyes. At me. “What other choice do you have?”
“Wait until I’m stronger.”
“And what happens if you wait?”
You’ll spontaneously combust, Nightmare reminds. You have to take the nightmares in. You have to.
I look away and sigh. “I can’t wait.”
She bites down on her bottom lip.
Oh, those lips—
Shut up, Nightmare.
I exhale and lie back, bringing her hand to my heart. Her eyes drop to the circular scar on my chest, the black mark of Nightmare.
She stares at it. The mark that proves I'm not fully human anymore. The brand that shows I'm bonded to something ancient and hungry.
Most people flinch when they see it. She doesn't.
Her fingers brush the edge of it, tentative. "Does it hurt?"
"No. Not anymore."
Her eyes widen in surprise, but I don’t let go. I’ve only just found Chelsea, and if I release her, what if she leaves and never comes back? What if I never had her to begin with?
You are such a sap.
I kiss the inside of her wrist, and she goes very still. “Nightmares have to be filtered, diluted. The energy builds if it’s left alone—stronger, harder to tame.”
“Hm, sounds like we’ve got our work cut out for us, then.”
I stifle a laugh. “You think you’ve won this.”
“I have won. You need me to do this because you can’t. I’m offering to help.”
I study her. She’s unflinching, unmoving.
She wants this. Give it to her. Let me inside her.
You can’t be trusted.
I’m not going to hurt her.
I know that. Nightmare wouldn’t dare harm Chelsea.
Are you afraid she’ll like me better than you?
No, I’m afraid you’ll know her better.
Nightmare becomes very quiet. I promise I won’t see any part of her that she doesn’t want me to.
Chelsea’s lips part like she wants to say something, but she stops herself.
“What is it?”
She drags her gaze from the gashes on my chest to my eyes. “You…saved my life. Let me save yours.”
My heart stutters to a stop. I drink her in, all of her—her wavy blonde hair that hangs over her shoulders, her blue eyes filled with worry, her lips.
This isn’t a wallflower, a woman afraid to take risks. Every move she’s made since the moment we met has been risky. She’s moved like a chess piece across the board, wide-eyed and ready.
Why do I keep denying her?
Because I'm terrified.
Not of Nightmare hurting her. But of what happens after. Once Nightmare is inside her, even briefly, it'll know her in ways I don't. Her fears. Her dreams. The deepest parts of her mind.
And maybe that's what she needs to see. What I really am. What we really are.
If she runs after this, at least I'll know. “Okay.”
She does a double take. “Okay?”
I slowly nod. “I’ll show you how to do my job. But if anything starts to go wrong, I’m pulling you out.”
A slow smile spreads across her face. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”