They became aware of their position simultaneously. She was in his lap, legs tangled with his, every inch of her pressed against him. His hand was still in her hair.
Hazel scrambled backward so fast she nearly fell off the bed. Marcus caught her arm automatically, steadying her.
“Murraue,” he said. “You were under attack.”
She touched her nose. Her fingers came away bloody. “I was back there. In the forest. But different. Viktor had my grandmother, and I couldn’t…” She shook her head and shut down whatever memory had surfaced. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“It happens.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You can go now.”
“Actually, I can’t.” He gestured to the silver circle surrounding the bed. “We need to maintain the protection until dawn. Murraue are persistent. It’ll try again the moment I break the circle.”
Her laugh held no humor. “How did it even find me? I thought your firm’s wards…”
“Murraue don’t need physical location. They stalk the world of dreams, following the traces people leave in sleep.” He shifted, trying to find a position on the small bed that didn’t involve full-body contact. “The cabin’s wards keep it from manifesting physically or learning where we are, but once you’re asleep, you’re in its territory.”
“Perfect. So I can’t sleep safely anywhere.”
“Not until we identify who sent it and deal with the source.” He frowned. “Three hours until sunrise.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“This is necessary.” It was hard to maintain authority while half-dressed and trying not to notice how her nightgown had fallen off one shoulder. “Unless you’d prefer another round with our friend?”
She glared at him but didn’t argue. They eventually worked out an arrangement: sitting back-to-back in the center of the bed, the circle humming around them. His skin burned where her spine pressed against his.
“Thank you,” she said after several minutes of awkward silence.
“It’s my job.”
“Right. Your job.” She was quiet for a beat. “You’re good at it. The protection spell, I mean. Very… thorough.”
“Approximately five hundred years of practice.”
“Do murraue attack your witnesses often?”
“Often enough.” He felt her tense. “But I’ve never lost anyone to one. You’re safe, Hazel.”
“I could have handled it.”
“Your stubbornness will get you killed.”
“Better than your arrogance getting us both killed.”
They lapsed back into silence. The cabin creaked around them. Somewhere in the walls, mice scurried.
“I wasn’t always afraid of the dark. Started about thirty years ago. Bad situation with a coven in Boston. They specialized in nightmare magic.”
He didn’t turn or push; he just listened.
“I won that fight, obviously. But some things stick with you.” She shifted slightly, her hair brushing his shoulder blade. “I’m guessing you know about things that stick.”
“Everyone in our world has scars.”
“Mine usually don’t show up until I’m asleep.” A bitter laugh. “Makes sleepovers complicated.”
“Is that why you can’t sleep in strange places?”
