Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
Dreams are windows into the soul. They show us things about ourselves. Sometimes good things. Sometimes things we’d rather not see. But what if someone else can view that window?
— From the journal of Violet Andrever
Iwas on my knees, my sword pointed toward the ground, the flames flickering.
My legs had forgotten how to hold my weight.
There was a low, constant rumble in my ears, as if the earth itself was groaning in pain.
It mixed with the wet, labored breathing of the dying, unnatural silence where there should be screams. The scent of scorched flesh was so strong it burned my nostrils and sunk into my pores.
“Yield.” The voice came out of a creature so dark and terrifying that shadows ran from him. His armor was scaled, the sharp points erupting from every conceivable place. It absorbed the limited light we had left to us rather than reflected it.
I looked up at the face of nightmares. “Never,” I spat out.
Forcing my legs to work, I heaved myself upright. His hand, clad in a gauntlet the color of the blackest night, reached toward my throat, the metallic scrape sounding with each movement.
“Lexa, no!”
The cry came from behind the creature. I looked over at the face of the man I loved, his beloved features covered in grime, a bloody streak streaming from his temple.
“No!” he cried again. He was storming toward us, tripping over the bodies of friends and foe alike, fighting to reach my side, his boots squelching as he struggled forward in the blood-soaked mud.
I tore my eyes from his face, hoping against hope that wasn’t my last look, and met the eyes of the creature in front of me—or at least, the place in the helmet where eyes should be. Instead, there were gaping holes of endless darkness.
“I will never yield.”
The spikes of the gauntlet reached my throat; they surged toward me, stretching, growing as he wrenched me upright off the ground.
“Lexa! Lexa!”
The sound of my name thundered through my body, causing that golden light inside me to bubble and flow, chasing away the darkness.
I was shaking—or no, being shook. I burst upright as I woke, gasping for air.
My hand shot out straight in front of me, flames cupped in my palm, ready to address the threat.
I was trembling so violently that I could barely control them.
I smelled a burning stench and heard a muffled swear.
“Hey, hey, it’s me.” A gentle hand rubbed up and down my back.
I came back to myself enough to focus on my surroundings. I was in my room. In my bed. With—
“Griff? You’re alive,” I breathed. “But you were hurt, the blood…” The fire faded from my hand as it shot out to his face, my fingers trembling as I traced the lines at his temple, feeling the roughness of his scruff. I still smelled the carnage, smoke thick in the air. “How… how…?”
My chest felt tight, each breath coming in short bursts, my body shaking with tremors I couldn’t control. He continued his gentle motions on my back, and I fought the urge to lean against him.
“I honestly have no idea.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I was asleep at my mother’s house. It was like I heard you cry out for me and I teleported here before I was fully conscious. Before I could even figure out what woke me. What happened?”
I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to stop the shaking and ground myself in reality. My room. The pressure of Griff’s hand on my back. But I could still smell the blood, still hear the dying struggling to breathe.
“It felt so real,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I couldn’t save anyone. Everyone was dead, dying…”
He gently reached toward my face and I startled as his hand cradled my cheek. His fingers were warm against my skin as he tipped up my chin, making me meet his eyes. “What is it?” he asked, the concern evident in his voice.
“It was just a nightmare,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Except nightmares weren’t that real. Nightmares began to vanish once you woke up.
I realized I was crying when he brushed a tear from my cheek, his thumb impossibly soft. More tears followed, hot streaks down my face. I couldn’t stop them.
“Must’ve been one hell of a nightmare to make you wake like that.”
“I just…” I trailed off. I just what? I just thought I’d witnessed my final battle? I just felt like I was still there?
My nightmares had never been that real. And I had been plagued by vivid dreams all my life, although I normally only remembered flashes of them.
I realized I hadn’t spoken for a while, but Griff was patient, staring down at me.
His eyes held so much concern—and another emotion I couldn’t name—that I had to look away.
I noticed for the first time that his chest was bare and my mouth went dry.
I’d known he was fit, but Erde be damned, did he have an ounce of fat on his stomach?
“How did you get in here anyway?” I asked, tearing my eyes away from those abs that looked like stone. “I thought this room was warded for intrusion.”
He ran a hand over his scruff. “I thought so too. They must have been fainter today or something.” He looked at me, considering. As he went to stand, panic shot through me.
“No!” I cried without thinking, lunging forward and intuitively grabbing his wrist in a tight grip. The contact sent that familiar jolt through me, but more than that, it anchored me.
Instantly, he sat, alarm in his eyes at my desperate cry.
His hand came up to cup my cheek again and I closed my eyes, leaning into his soft touch.
There was something about this man that made me feel safe, protected.
My breathing still hadn’t returned to normal, and with the battlefield scene and the terror sticking with me, I really didn’t want to be alone.
I struggled for a moment before I gave in and voiced it. “Will you stay? I… don’t want to be alone.”
“Nightmares can do that.” He looked at me, then around the room, stopping to evaluate the desk chair.
I scooted over in the bed to make room. “Please?” My voice broke on the word.
He froze as he realized exactly what I was asking. Before he slid the mask back onto his face, I thought I saw a flicker of… something break through. It certainly wasn’t desire.
“Of course, Princess,” he murmured.
He climbed into the bed, making it creak and shift with his weight as he lay on his side. “Come here.”
He held up his arm, and I hesitated. I was torn between maintaining some distance, some dignity, and a much larger part, the part that was still trembling from the terror, that craved the safety that I knew he’d provide.
I scooted back into the space he’d made, my back pressing up against his bare chest. At any other time, I would have been completely distracted by the firm, broad expanse radiating heat along my spine.
But the nightmare still clung to me like smoke.
I could feel the burn of the flames, smell the stench of death.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw those endless dark holes staring back at me, felt the phantom weight of the gauntlet around my throat.
My heart continued to race and I shook slightly, the adrenaline refusing to drain despite the solid, protective presence guarding my back.
And to make matters worse, here I was asking the Champion to spend the night with me to protect me from bad dreams like a frightened child.
I should have been embarrassed, but I was still too raw and shaken to care about my pride.
I’d see if that returned in the morning.
He gently rested his arm around my waist, respectfully holding me to him. Or as respectfully as he could with his massive, warm body curled around me.
“Sleep, Princess. I’ll be here if you need me.”
His voice was a deep rumble against my back.
I wanted to believe that this, him holding me in his arms, hand splayed over my stomach, would be enough.
But the shadows in the room seemed to shift and writhe from the corners of my eyes.
Every small sound made me tense. But slowly, gradually, his rhythmic breathing and the security of his arms lessened the lingering terror.
I matched my breathing to his, slow and steady.
Somehow, impossibly, I fell asleep.
The next morning I woke slowly, a warmth spreading through me, which was shocking because I was always cold here. I glanced at the window to find that it was still dark out. Something warm shifted under my cheek, and it all came flooding back.
The nightmare.
Griff appearing after being summoned by my terror.
Me asking him to stay like a frightened child.
And… oh gods. I had been using Griff as a pillow.
Sometime in the night, I must have turned to him, seeking his warmth and security, even in sleep.
Now my head was nestled in the hollow of his bare shoulder, my hand splayed across his chest, and I had apparently thrown a leg over him too.
His arm was around my back, holding me to him like I belonged there.
Shit.
His breathing was steady under my cheek. I had no idea how to disentangle myself from him without waking him. I wasn’t even sure if I did want to move. I stayed still, debating what to do, until I felt a hand stroking my hair.
“You’re thinking so loud I can hear you.”
My breath caught. How long had he been awake? I tilted my face up to his and then drew back. His face was close enough that if either of us moved a minuscule amount, our lips would touch.
“Good morning,” he said, his mouth slightly curved.
“Hi.”
I realized my leg was still thrown over his body and quickly moved it. I started to pull away from him, but his hand tightened around me almost imperceptibly, so briefly I wondered if I imagined it, before he loosened his grip and let me go.
I looked anywhere but at him. “Did I set the curtains on fire?” There were char marks around the edges that definitely hadn’t been there yesterday.