Chapter 34 #2
They stared at each other until he broke the contact, lowering into the empty chair at her side.
The memory of his ravaged face when she’d stepped between him and the bloodravager pierced her.
She shook her head, clearing her throat. She had to ask.
“The soulwarden said we were lucky to be attacked by a lynk, but that’s wrong. The bloodravagers?—”
“Aren’t your concern right now,” Dawson cut in, jaw clenched. “The Consortium wants this contained until they understand what those creatures were doing on the grounds. Dexter warned me no one can know what happened out there.”
“Dexter. Of course you’d do as he says—the dutiful prince.” She narrowed her eyes. Those things were dangerous. The entire academy was at risk. “You can’t be serious, Dawson. People need to know. They need to be prepared.”
He sighed, running a hand through his loose hair. “It’s not up for debate, Alaire. It’s out of my control.”
“You are the Prince of House Aetheris. Of course it’s in your fucking control. If you won’t do something, I will.”
“The Consortium will handle it.”
“Handle it?” She scoffed. “They couldn’t handle a toddler in the throes of a tantrum. And you’re just willing to go along with it.”
His gaze hardened, turquoise eyes burning bright. Gone was his mask of indifference. She’d struck a nerve.
Good .
He leaned closer, voice dropping. “Do you think I enjoy any of this? Lying to people, keeping them in the dark? We don’t have a choice. I have to follow orders, and so do you. You made your own deal with the Consortium.”
Alaire’s fists clenched, throbbing pain forgotten in the haze of her anger. “It doesn’t matter. People’s lives are at stake.”
His voice was firm. “I’m doing what I have to do to protect you.”
“Fuck that.” Her eyes flashed. “My life does not outweigh theirs.”
“It does.” He shook his head. “That impulsiveness gives you away, Alaire. Big heart or not, sometimes we have to wait. We bide our time.”
She looked away, jaw tight. “So what? I sit in the infirmary while those things crawl across campus?”
“They can’t leave the Bone Cavern. The Consortium will send people to investigate and seal those that didn’t die from the sun inside.
Bloodravagers are grotesque creatures corrupted by vampires.
Rabid beasts driven by insatiable hunger.
Like their makers, they can’t survive sunlight.
For now, focus on healing, your studies, and preparing for your last trial.
When the time is right, everyone will know. Until then, we play by their rules.”
Alaire crossed her arms. “I don’t like it. Something feels wrong.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I agree, but if we’re going to do this, it has to be quietly. We’ll consult with Beck and Solflara. Somehow, we’ll figure it out.”
She sighed. “Fine. But I’m telling Kaia and Archer. I won’t keep this from them.”
He leaned back. “Fine. Since Caius already knows and Kaia is his partner, that makes sense.”
“I wasn’t asking your permission.”
“Of course you weren’t.” A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.
“I’m not staying here. I need out.” She swung her legs over the bed, clutching the sheets as dark spots danced in her vision.
Dawson’s hand gripped her shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere until you’ve healed. That’s nonnegotiable.”
Alaire lifted her chin. “Yes. I. Am.”
“No, you sure as shit are not. And if you try, I’ll throw you over my shoulder and drag your bratty self right back here. Try me. I dare you.”
Alaire opened her mouth to argue, but her hands trembled against the sheets. “We’ll see.”
I’ll concede this once.
Once she rested and he wasn’t looming over her, she’d be gone.
He gave her a knowing smile, as if he’d read her thoughts. “Get some rest.”
She nodded and settled back against the pillows. He leaned forward, tucking the sheets across her chest.
Soft light painted the room in golden hues. Alaire blinked slowly. The pain was mostly gone, though a dull throb still pulsed beneath the surface.
Dawson was still there, illuminated by the gentle glow. His head rested against the back of the chair, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The faint crease between his brows had eased.
She studied him—the way his lips tugged downward in a restless dream, the faint twitch of his fingers.
A lump rose in her throat.
He stayed.
A memory surfaced, his voice desperate and raw: We’re almost there. Hold on, baby.
She wrapped that memory around herself, letting it seep into the cracks of her heart, needing the weight of it more than she’d ever admit.
For just a little while, she let herself dream of what might have been if she’d lived another life, if circumstances had been different—if fate hadn’t carved out a path of war and loss.
She could almost see it: slow mornings, whispered laughter between kisses beneath the sheets, fingers laced together.
It would’ve been everything.
Her chest tightened. She knew she shouldn’t let her mind go there, that she couldn’t. This moment was fleeting; it wouldn’t last.
And in the morning, she would face the harsh truth of her reality. But tonight, she let herself dream.