“Oh, you wish,” I snipe back with an irritated sigh.
Niko’s gaze darkens as he swallows slowly, and for some ridiculous reason, my eyes are drawn to the bob of his throat. The tantalizing ripple of his tattoos. Since when is swallowing attractive?
“I don’t wish, Willa. Idream.” He says the word like it’s wanton, his tongue rolling over the syllables in a way that feels tantalizingly indecent.
I shift beneath the unnatural heat of his eyes, ignoring the wicked glint in the depthless obsidian. The Carrion King delights in crawling beneath my skin, in prodding and poking until he finds his way beneath my cool demeanor. But just as he’s learned the paths beneath mine, I’ve become educated in his: specifically, his infuriating habit of unsettling me as a means of distraction. A way to keep me away from the more vulnerable parts of himself.
“Get in the bed, Your Majesty, before you collapse on the floor. My back still hurts from the last time I had to carry your giant ass.”
Niko shimmies primly. “I think we both know my ass is exquisite.”
I point to the bed. To the mass of blankets tangled in the center, like he’d been thrashing with nightmares of his own before being woken by mine. Niko doesn’t move, only stares up at me sullenly, his expression guarded.
“I won’t touch you,” I assure him softly. “I promise.”
Surprise flickers in his eyes, followed by an unmistakable flash of rage. His ribbons begin to writhe around his arms, and for a moment, I worry I’ve made a grave miscalculation. If I’ve speared too deep and will be punished for it. But then, Niko rises to his feet, body swaying precariously, and I don’t know whether to be relieved I’ve read him so well, or furious he truly wants nothing to do with me.
“After you, Darling,” he says in a tired voice.
Pushing away something that feels dangerously close to disappointment, I climb onto the massive mattress. I feel the weight of Niko’s eyes on my bare thighs as I pile a few pillowsinto a makeshift wall at the center of the bed. I shoot him a cheeky look. “To protect your virtue.”
He rolls his eyes, stretching out on his side of the bed. The lanterns along the walls immediately wink out, like they’re attuned to their king. The only remaining light comes from the shine of the stars outside, which is admittedly, pretty bright. But I like that he didn’t block them out with curtains or blinds, like that it feels as if we’re sleeping on the edge of the sea beneath the night sky.
It’s open and airy. Not at all like the thick concrete of the lab or even the stifling walls of my apartment. With a contented sigh, I lay down on my own side, tugging one of the thick comforters up to my throat. I nestle into the pillow, breathing in the soft scent. Sandalwood.Him.
It calms my nerves, soothing the edges of the anxiety that seems to spike through me perpetually. I’ve never slept without nightmares, even before the camps. My mind was always a vivid, wild place, with no law, no peace. I’ve never found a quiet deep enough to soothe it.
“What if—what if I dream again?” I ask into the dark. It’s easier, somehow, to give voice to vulnerability in the cocoon of the bed.What if I dream? What if I can’t find my way back?
Niko’s ribbons slither over my makeshift wall, tangling themselves up on the pillow beside my head. They don’t touch me, but I feel their presence more than see it. A heavy calm. A smooth, endless void that slows my breathing and relaxes my tense muscles. There is nothing in death—not even nightmares.
“I promise I won’t leave you alone, Willa,” Niko’s deep voice rumbles in the dark. “You’re safe now.”
The truth of his words slides through me, and I give into the pull of exhaustion.
And for the first time in my life, there are no nightmares.
Chapter twenty-two
Ipush my food listlessly around the plate with the edge of my fork, staring at the fluffy eggs and flaky croissant without truly seeing them. My death slithers around my wrists and forearms, and though pain lances through me, it is more distant than usual. Perhaps because my mind isn’t at this table at all, but seven floors above, where I left Willa still curled asleep in my bed.
‘Left’ is generous. ‘Ran away from’ is probably more accurate.
No matter how exhausted I’d been, I hadn’t expected to get any sleep with Willa so close. Close enough to hear her sounds, but not be able to see the way she looked when she made them. To smell the scent of the soap on her skin but not be able to taste it. It was a unique form of torture, wanting her so badly while hating myself for every moment I did.
But in the end, the same awareness tormenting me, lulled me into the deepest sleep I can ever remember. There was comfort in the rhythms of her: the soft breathing, the warmth of her body, the rustle of the sheets as she tangled herself up in them.
When I opened my eyes this morning, there was no stiffness in my muscles, no raw ache over my skin. My mind was clear of the usual haze of agony for the first time in so long, that for a brief moment, I wondered if I was dead.
But when I’d turned to Willa—her hair sprawled over the black silk pillow like a halo, her mouth parted and quiet for once, her cheeks rosy with sleep—that sense of quiet had given way to a furious rush of emotions spiraling through me so fast, I nearly tumbled off the bed.
IlikedWilla being close enough to protect, and that was an abject problem, considering my plans for her. Considering how gloriously I’d ruined everything the last time I’d let my heart wrap itself around someone.
I lurched out of the bed, hopping around in an ungracious attempt to escape the sheets knotted around my ankles. Yanked my ribbons away from where they’d been nestled happily beside her, and wrapped them so tight around my waist, I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out.
Even as I devoured the sight of her, drinking in the luscious curve of her thigh left bare by that ridiculous nightgown and the delicate arch of her neck, I anchored myself in pain. A reminder that this relief, however Willa’s presence grants it, is temporary. She is not mine.
I’ve learned not to allow myself reprieve. Enduring pain is an acquired skill, and a moment’s relief only makes it worse when it returns.
