Of course I'm awake. Did you think a little blood loss would kill me? Though I will say, being unconscious with you is boring. You didn’t dream. It's like being stuck in a dark room with nothing to do.
Good to see you, too.
It scoffs.At least Chelsea is holding our hand. She can’t be too pissed off that you almost got her killed.
And then the anger comes. Like a rolling boil, it starts in my gut and works its way to my chest. My body goes taut, and Chelsea’s grip on me loosens.
“Eryx?”
Might as well open our eyes. She knows we’re awake.
And she knows about us—fully. She saw Nightmare and me together.
And she called us beautiful.
I slowly open my eyes, and there she is—golden hair like a halo around her face, blue eyes searching me like I hold a key she aches for.
“Don’t try to get up,” she explains. “You were hurt. Badly. Stave healed you.”
I glance down at my chest and see four puckered gashes—the creature’s claw marks. They’re healing, but slowly. “Nothing else came after it? The wards! Did Stave?—”
She places a hand on my shoulder. “That was the only creature, and Stave said he increased the shields and wards on the manor.”
I exhale.
Her gaze drops as if she thinks I had something to do with the attack. “Chelsea”—I lift my hand to stroke her cheek, but stop myself—“I had nothing to do with thatthing.”
“I know.”
My brows lift. “You do?”
“Stave told me.”
All I can do is nod. She gets attacked and I pass out. What kind of husband am I?
The kind that saved her life.
There is that, I suppose. “Were you hurt?” I search her face, her neck, her hands for any sign of harm, but I don’t see any.
She shakes her head. “I’m fine.”
Silence settles between us. It’s charged, the kind where things go unsaid, words that could change the trajectory of a relationship forever.
But I don’t say she looks beautiful, that I’m burning to kiss her again. All I come up with is, “How long have I been out?”
“Two days.”
Two days without filtering nightmares. Two days of them building. Two days of the district without their king. Two days of Chelsea alone, defending the manor, dealing with… what? Panic? Questions?
Stave would have handled it. But still.
“I have to get up.”
I start to rise, and Chelsea presses her hands to my shoulders. Her touch leaves fiery imprints on my skin—it’s a feeling I want tattooed into my memory.
“You have to stay in bed. Whatever you need, I can get you.”
I shake my head. “You don’t understand. The nightmares have to be dealt with.”
