Whatever Lord Yelling left inside his head, whatever memories keep dragging him back into the dark, we’ll face them together. When Wren wakes up, we’re going to talk.
For now, though, all I can do is keep my body curled around his and hope that wherever sleep has taken him, it’s gentler than before.
Wren breathes in, then out, and settles more heavily against me.
I press another kiss to his temple and keep watch.
23
WREN
Waking up feels wrong.
Too heavy. Too deep. Like I’ve been dragged up from the bottom of a lake with stones tied to my limbs. My body doesn’t belong to me at first. My thoughts don’t either. They drift in slowly each one struggling to catch hold of the next.
Warmth presses against my back. A steady weight curls around my waist. There’s a hand in mine. I jerk hard enough that the room tilts. My eyes snap open to dim golden light and the familiar shape of my apartment.
My body reacts before my mind catches up. I lurch upright, ripping myself out of the warm cocoon of sleep and nearly toppling off the side of the bed in the process.
“Whoa, hey.” Talon’s hand catches my arm before I fall to the floor. “Easy.”
I blink at him. Talon sits half propped against the headboard, his hair rumpled from sleep or stress or both. His blue eyes are wide and fixed on me with so much concern it makes my stomach drop. One of his hands is still wrapped around my wrist. The other braces against the mattress, ready to steady me if I start swaying again.
The last thing I remember is being at Wick’s.
Beau. Wick. A paper bag in my hand. Sleep powder. Oh no.
The memory slams into me. Wick telling me to go to bed. Beau hovering at my elbow. Me insisting I was fine. The floor pitching under my feet. Falling into Beau. The bag bursting.
My face burns. I passed out at work.
I close my eyes and contemplate simply evaporating where I sit. Maybe turning into mist. A decorative lamp. Anything but a Fae who apparently collapsed in front of a full bakery because he was too stubborn to admit he had a problem.
When I open my eyes again, Talon still watches me.
“I’m fine,” I say.
Talon’s eyebrows lift.
“I am,” I insist.
“Wren.” The way he says my name stops me cold.
I drag a hand through my hair and find it full of knots. “Everyone needs to calm down. I’m awake now.”
“Yeah,” Talon says. “After you collapsed because you were so exhausted, you could barely stand.”
I flinch. It’s tiny, involuntary, but I know he sees it.
He sits up a little straighter beside me, giving me space without moving away entirely. “You’ve barely slept in days.”
I stare at a loose thread in the blanket rather than look at him.
“Maybe longer,” he adds.
Still, I say nothing. What am I supposed to say to that? Shame crawls hot under my skin.
“You didn’t tell me,” he says.
