Chapter 25 #2
I barely sleep. I’ve never shared a bed before, and it’s surreal having Elliot beneath the covers with me.
I lay with my back pressed to his chest, the heat of his bare skin burning against mine.
I don’t typically sleep naked, but after we had sex last night, I couldn’t fathom putting clothes on.
It’s too lovely, the feeling of his skin against mine.
For as long as we have this, I’m going to enjoy it.
Even if that means I can’t sleep, too intoxicated by his presence to do anything but count his steady breaths.
He doesn’t move in his sleep, not like I know I do.
By the time morning rolls around, he’s in the exact same position as when he fell asleep.
His chin is tucked against the top of my head, and his arm is wrapped protectively over my waist, snaking up between my breasts.
I keep my hands on his forearm, lightly brushing the skin of his wrist.
We’re surrounded by memories. They line the walls of my bedroom, filling the small space with endless colors. The thrashing greens and blues and reds all make up years of hard-earned control. It’s difficult to imagine giving it up.
Elliot’s breath shifts. It’s almost indiscernible. If I hadn’t spent all night noticing him, I might have missed it.
“You’re awake,” I say.
He jolts like I’ve stabbed him.
“Hells,” he gasps. “I thought you were asleep.”
I don’t respond. I study all the jars on the walls.
It will take days to reabsorb them. We probably shouldn’t do it all at once either.
I’m not sure if memory overload is a thing, but if it is, we definitely have enough to cause it.
There are years of memories around us, and it will likely be unpleasant, putting them all back.
“Secora?” he asks.
His voice is gravelly with sleep as he untangles himself from me.
He props onto his elbow, gently rotating me until I’m flat on my back.
His skin is golden and smooth. His hair is an absolute mess.
Until we shared a tent, I had no idea how long it took him to make his hair look like it normally does.
“What’re you thinking?” he asks. He traces my jawline, stopping to press his thumb against my lower lip.
“Nothing,” I say. “Just…enjoying this.”
“Yeah?” he asks. Despite everything, he looks unsure.
“Yeah.”
“Good,” he says. He presses a feather light kiss to my lips, then my temple. When he glances at the wall to my right, his eyes reflect the colorful memories. I expect him to say something, but he only kisses me again, firmer this time.
“We’ll probably want to do it slowly,” I say. When he smirks, I roll my eyes. “The memories, I mean. At least in the beginning, we should make sure there aren’t side effects. It’ll be better to do a little bit at a time.”
“Whatever you want,” he says. Another kiss on the side of my mouth. “Slow. Fast. Rough. Gentle. Against a tree. In the lake…”
I shut him up with a kiss, and I don’t let up until we’re both breathing hard and he’s cleaning remnants of himself from my thighs. I touch myself as he gets dressed, feeling the pleasant soreness, the subtle ache that’s already desperate for more.
“You keep touching yourself like that, and we’re going to be here all day,” Elliot says as he tucks his shirt into his pants. He’s already wearing his shoes, and his hair has been styled.
Meanwhile, I’m still naked in bed, fantasizing over what we just finished.
“Is that a bad thing?” I ask innocently.
“Most days no,” he says. He holds a hand to me, keeping his eyes locked on mine, even as I keep my hand between my legs. “But today, we have a lot to do.”
“Like?” I ask.
“You need to educate your clan on our plan for the sunwalker spell,” he says. His hand doesn’t falter, even as I glare at it like it’s a serpent. “And I need to go back to the Day Realm. Henry’s been covering for me, but I need to make an appearance before Mama sends out a search party.”
A sour twist punches through my gut.
It’s not that I forgot our reality. It’s that I hoped it would stay away, if only for a while longer.
“I’ll be back,” he says. “I won’t be long. I’ll just need to treat Mama, and I should at least stop by the center to make—”
“Your mama,” I interrupt. All at once, pieces fall into place, and I feel like a fool for not realizing it myself. “She’s the one who’s sick.”
It’s not a question, but any doubt is washed away when Elliot swallows. For the first time, his attention shifts away from me. His jaw tightens as he looks over the displayed memories.
“I’m sorry, Elliot,” I say, surprised at how much I mean it. Maybe I don’t care for his mama, but Elliot’s affection for her has never been a question. Vampires killed his father before he was born, so that woman is the only family he has. To know he might lose her…
“I’m figuring it out,” he says quietly.
“Does she know?” I ask. “About the blood?”
It’s hard to imagine the infamous Madam Lyrie approving something as vile as a vampire blood treatment. When Elliot doesn’t answer, it’s answer enough.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. Two words have never felt so useless.
“Yeah, me too,” he says on an exhale. With another deep breath, he looks back to me.
There’s nothing guarded in his expression.
I can see it all: the sadness, the disappointment, the rage.
And encompassing it all, the determination.
“She thinks the Mother is punishing her for the sun curse. I’m hoping the sunwalker spell might change things. If the death stops, then maybe…”
He trails off, glancing away.
“The Mother will show mercy?” I guess.
“Yeah.” He nods. Then, looking back to me, he adds, “I know it sounds stupid.”
“It doesn’t,” I say. I don’t think it will work, but it doesn’t sound stupid. “Do you think she’ll agree?”
“No.” He shakes his head and sits on the edge of the bed.
His hand spans the width of my waist, and his thumb moves in small, rhythmic strokes.
“I’m hoping it works anyway. I’m not going to ask for her blessing.
This disease, this punishment, is going to kill her unless I do something.
Unless I convince the Mother to spare her. ”
I struggle for something more to say. It’s been years since I’ve honored the Mother. I’m not sure I even believe in Her, but from what I remember, She wasn’t the forgiving type. If Madam Lyrie’s affliction is truly from the Mother, the sunwalker spells won’t change a thing.
When Elliot’s head hangs, chin dropping toward his chest, I move to straddle his lap.
I may not know what to say or how to help, but I can be here with him.
I rest my head against his chest, relieved when his arms wrap around me.
A hoarse sob breaks from his throat, and I lean into him, praying I am enough to hold him together.