Not that I’m getting nearly as much as I need—nor is it as strong in that state as it is when we’re awake. None of our senses are, least of all touch and smell. I’d guess taste falls into that category, as well.
Fuck, it’s better than nothing. I’d do anything to never go back to what things were like before we got to Briarhollow.
Living under one roof and never getting a moment with her is killing me. It was hard enough to stay away when we were in the same town, but this could be classified as emotional torture.
Which has brought me to standing outside her door for the last fifteen minutes, working through all the possible outcomes of me knocking on that door.
She could be asleep.
Rowyn could have charmed this whole place to notify her when anyone disturbs Renata—I wouldn’t put it past her.
Renata could open the door and slam it in my face. I don’t think my ego would recover from that one.
Nestor, who has avoided me so far, could appear before me and do Gods know what.
Or maybe, just maybe, she’s awake and agrees on my late night adventure.
Before I come to a decision, two giggling voices pull my attention to the staircase in the middle of the hallway. Esme and Clover fall into curious silence when they see me. Realization dawns on them almost immediately.
I’m not surprised to find them together, sneaking a plate of Rowyn’s dark chocolate raspberry squares and glasses of warm milk. They’re the closest in age to each other—a few years younger than Sybil, Rowyn, Renata, and me, but more than half a decade older than Clementine.The entire coven is as close as sisters, but there’s a special connection between those two. I see the same thing in Renata and Rowyn.
My mouth drops open but after a few seconds of uncertainty, it closes.
A slow, smug smirk pulls on Esme’s lips as Clover’s eyes twinkle with giddy surprise. There’s anticipation radiating off of them. I’m not sure if it makes me excited or anxious.
Not sure what else to do, I shrug my shoulders as if that’s answer enough.
Apparently it is, because the two witches share a long look before glancing at Rowyn’s door.
Esme quietly slides across the wood floor in her thick, wool socks, and comes to a stop a few feet away. “Oh,” she whispers and waves her hand in the direction of Rowyn’s bedroom door. “She’s a twenty-seven-year-old grandmother who sleeps like the dead during a full moon.”
My brows flick up at the strange fact about my new chaperone.
“It’s true,” Clover says with a nod. “There’s no waking her until approximately sunrise.”
Looking back at Renata’s door, I ask, “And this one? Does she sleep like the dead?”
Sharing another quick look, Clover shakes her head, but Esme’s the one who says, “No. Never.”
Staring at the door, the only obstacle separating us other than our own stubbornness, I take a deep breath and steel my shoulders. When I look back at the two of them, they are already sliding in Clover’s room.
I hear the quiet click of the lock at the same time my bravery starts to wane.
The worst she can say is no, I tell myself, and the worst that could happen is upsetting Nestor.
It probably shouldn’t be as comforting as it is, but I don’t over think it. Quickly knocking, I wait… and wait… and w—
The door flies open, and there she is, practically glowing in the soft candlelight. Her white-blonde hair has a faint golden tint to it because of the flames, and her cheeks are flushed, like she quickly got out of bed. She does look startled, even a little concerned. It fades into something else when she realizes it’s me.
There’s curiosity, sure, but also a very faint sparkle of pleasure twinkling in her eyes.
“Archer,” she breathes and glances across the hall. “What are you doing here?”
Chuckling, I lean against the door frame and shove my hands in my pockets. I haven’t bothered changing because I knew there was a small chance I’d be getting sleep tonight.
That’s what ultimately sparked this plan—not wanting Renata to wonder why I didn’t come find her in our dreams. The longer I thought about it, if I couldn’t sleep, it only made sense to come to her while I was awake.
“I heard the warden sleeps like the dead during a full moon,” I say with a tilt of my lips.
