The voices. The screaming. It was so loud, I was beginning to forget what silence sounded like. The absence of noise and the peace of nothingness was a distant memory. Suffering cries greeted me at every turn, reminding me how fragile bonds were. How death could always sever them.
Standing in the captain’s quarters in nothing but a shirt with my bone dagger at my side, I recalled the darkness and the stifling agony that found me no matter where I went. The slimy touch of Akareth’s presence lingered on my skin from a dream that was never real. I tried to feel the cool air from the window licking my skin. I tried to smell the ocean. I did everything to remind myself that I was awake and that the link between us had broken, but no matter what I did, the shards remained, embedded in my flesh like thorns.
My grip tightened on my dagger. The grooves of the carved handle aggravated my palm, but I welcomed the pain. That pain was real. It was not imagined. It was not a dream or a trick.
The echoes of dying cries continued, vivid and distant all at once. I had been staring at the window, but now I could not even see the glass. All I saw were visions from that hellish prison Akareth had locked me in. I wished never to go back there, but if I could not escape it when I was awake, how was I to escape it when I slept?
Dahlia,a voice said. I blinked, unsure whether it was real or imagined.
“Dahlia.”
A hand cupped my shoulder. The world cracked down the middle, shocking me awake from a what wasn’t really sleep. I spun around to see Vidar standing before me, lit up by the lantern on the desk, eyes wide like I’d slapped him across the face. His gaze slowly lowered toward his bare chest and as I followed, I saw the edge of my dagger pressed against his pectoral.
Calmly, he looked back up at me from beneath his brows, the shock on his face turning to that warning look he so often gave to men who angered him.
“You going to do something with that, love?” he said.
“Perhaps… I should not sleep beside you tonight,” I quivered.
“No,” he snarled, reaching up and grabbing my wrist. I tensed as he pulled it to the side, leaving a shallow ribbon of blood across his chest. The scent of it filled the room. His jaw ticked, but he made no sound to indicate he was in pain. “You’ll be sleeping next to me, as you always do, if I have to bind you to me and lock our weapons away.”
I loosed the knife, letting it drop to the floor, and squeezed my eyes shut, the sting of shame making my head pound.
“The dreams are mere dust,” I said. “But so many times, I thought it was real when it was not. Now that I am no longer sleeping, I can hardly tell.” He released me and I pressed bothhands to my face. “How is it that he warped my thoughts so much in just three days? What could he do to someone with far more time?”
“Someone like Lyla.”
“Or my mother. Or any of us.”
I felt his hands on mine, gently peeling them from my face. “It doesn’t matter because he will not get more time.” He cupped my cheeks in his palms, forcing me to look at him. “Alone, you could fight him. I know you could because you’re strong. But you’re not alone. You have me. I am a furious man and you are mine. You aremine, Dahlia. God or no, he cannot have you.”
“Vidar, he was inside me,” I whispered, my heart weeping at the thought. “He tookeverythingfrom me over and over again. And now, here you are, alive. But I lost you so many times and that hurt is lingering even as you stand before me.”
“Do not bend for him.” He gripped my chin with one hand as his other slid back into my hair, grabbing locks of it and tugging my head back. “You need us. You’ve said as much. But we need you, too. We need you to be here.Ineed you to be here. You are everything a god who seeks control fears because you cannot be controlled. You are a storm.”
My muscles grew taut under his touch, the sound of his words making my body yearn for relief.
“Now, a god who hides in his trenches cannot have touched you from afar. He could only have pretended.” He began pushing me back toward his bed, his hand sliding from my chin, down my neck, to the middle of my chest. “But you are awake now, Dahlia, and the waking world is very much in your control.”
My knees hit the bed and I fell back onto my elbows, staring up at Vidar’s broad form in the orange lantern light, small drips of blood weeping down the left side of his chest. He began to unbuckle his belt and instantly, my core ignited with need. A need only he could summon. One that no dream could mimic.
“Stop me if you wish,” he said gruffly.
There was a part of me that was in sheer panic knowing what Vidar wanted to do to me. He could break me far easier than a god, but he could also put me back together stronger every time. I’d been without that touch for what seemed like weeks and I hungered for it. Every part of me that Akareth attempted to soil, I wanted Vidar to cleanse.
“Show me,” I said.
“Show you?” he cocked his head, yanking his belt out of the loops.
“Remind me I am awake. Make me feel. Everything.”
He rolled his belt up before tossing it aside, his gaze roaming over me like whisps of fire.
“You have no idea the carnage I would have wrought had you not come back to me,” he said.
“Forgive me for my foolishness. If I had the gall to kill Lyla before—"
He dropped down to his knees on the bed between my legs, bracing his hands on either side of me.
