You try to swim closer, but you can’t. The current is too strong.
You’re sinking.
Because instead of a floor, your apartment now is just a giant whirlpool, dragging you down, down, down, further away from Ziros as you try again to cry out to him through the darkening water.
“Human,” growls a sudden voice in your ear, and something very hot and very hard—no, not likethat—is holding you tightly. “Stop thrashing.”
The hotness is the heat of someone’s bare chest, his arms wrapped around you.
The hardness is his abs.
You groan, blinking your eyes open. Trying to make sense of where you are.
Still expecting to breathe in water, but to your surprise—and great relief—it’s air that’s surrounding you.
But you’re still in the dark.
And the ground sways beneath you.
This isn’t your apartment.
No.
It’s the superyacht!
“Ziros?” you ask groggily, blinking away the stinging dryness of your eyes. The stinging that says your body knows you should really be sleeping right about now.
Oh, no.
Notjustdryness.
You sniffle, reaching up to touch your face.
Your face is wet.
You’ve been crying.
Oh, how embarrassing!
Fortunately, there’s a very fancy, probably-real-gold-plated tissue box holder on the nightstand next to the bed, and Ziros hands you a tissue.
You gratefully wipe your face on it, dabbing your eyes, but the tears just keep flowing.
To your surprise, Ziros pulls you back into his arms, rocking you against his chest.
“You’re okay,” he whispers into your hair, holding you so close, you can barely breathe. “You’re okay…Anzelika.”
And it must be something about him speaking your so-called true name, because just the sound of that word sends strange, pleasant tingles down your spine.
“I know,” you say, wiping your eyes again. “It was just a nightmare.”
To your surprise, he smirks. Like he thinks that’s somehow funny.
Leaning back on his hands so he can get a better look at you, he says, “You sure were muttering my name a lot in your nightmare, little human.”
You freeze.
“I…was?”
