Page 143 of Sorrow & Strangers

“I’m not sure that complies with Avalon’s strict uniform policy,” Alice quips.

“Do you think I will get sent to the headmaster’s office?” I ask with a grin.

Alice gasps. “Summer! Do you have a naughty schoolgirl fetish? How do I not know this? Hmm, now I am wondering about this training . . .” We both burst into laughter, and we are still giggling and bantering as we leave the house.

The day is blissfully unremarkable, and the small slice of normal feels good. After my classes, I go straight to meet the stranger in our clearing, wanting to get it over with. As I expected, he’s already waiting for me.

“Princess,” he says, turning to face me. “Are you all right?”

I exhale and start to stretch. My muscles are definitely tighter and more sluggish than they were this morning. Luckily, this kind of training is not as physical. “Let’s go,” I say, not allowing him any pleasantries and refusing to acknowledge how a deep part of me enjoys the pet names he has given me.

He moves closer and cups my cheeks. “That’s not what I’m asking.” I look up at him, a little taken aback by his gentleness. He always catches me off guard with it. “You look exhausted.”

“I’m okay,” I say, looking away.

He gently tips my face to capture my gaze again, and when I meet his eyes, he must see something there because he pulls me against his chest. He curls his muscled arms around me, cradling me against him as if I am . . . precious to him. I tense, but he just lightly drifts his hands down my back, soothing me.

I pull back a little, looking up at him questioningly.

“Just for a second. Rest.”

“Standing isn’t restful,” I snap back, though I immediately regret it. I am confused and lashing out because he has surprised me.

“Just close your eyes and rest,” he says, cupping the back of my head in his massive hand and tucking my face against his neck.

I don’t put up a fight, and I’m not sure why. I inhale deeply, wishing I could scent him, but regardless of my confusion, I start to relax. Deep exhaustion tugs on me, and my eyelids grow heavy. I hadn’t realized how much today had taken out of me. I’m floating somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness when he lifts me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. It is not lost on me, even in my near-dream state, that I was in this position just this morning for a wholly different reason. Here in his arms, all I feel is warmth and safety. I swear his body starts to feel warmer, and I briefly wonder if he has dropped the avatar, but before the thought can take hold, I drift off to sleep, tucked securely against him.

Chapter Sixty-Three

The Stranger

Idon’t know why I stop myself from pushing past her exhaustion. Her various enemies won’t care if she’s tired or injured or afraid, but seeing the weariness that she hadn’t even acknowledged to herself, I can’t resist pulling her into my arms to give her what she needs. So instead of taking advantage of her weariness and training her through it, I wrap her around me in the middle of the meadow and hold her as she sleeps. I can rationalize that I am doing this for her, but I savor every soft breath against my neck, the weight of her in my arms, the warmth of her soft curves pressed against me, even the tiny snores coming from her.

She rests against me peacefully, relaxed in my hold, and I can’t resist burying my face in her hair. I am such a selfish creature. She’s on a clock, and I can’t allow her to waste her time sleeping. Closing my eyes, I step into her dream. It’s surprisingly peaceful—a blank space of warmth and sun. She’s truly exhausted if she’s not even dreaming of anything in particular, only that complete void of security.

Is this a sign she feels safe with me? Holding her in my arms like this?

Deliberately, I push at the boundaries of her dream, working on her subconscious defenses. I want to trigger the ones that automatically engage at an intrusion, forcing her mental walls up to keep me out. But even as the walls strengthen against my intrusion, I hear a voice calling from inside them. It’s the melodic language of the Daoine Sith, whispering to her in sleep, but the words are lost to me. The walls I foolishly just helped her raise are now keeping me out too.

I feel her body shiver in my arms from the chill in the air, and I know I should wake her. Instead, I conjure a blanket, comforting her as I wrap it around us. I don’t move, not even to sit, not wanting to risk this moment being over. I will stand here holding her in the middle of this meadow all night.

She shifts her head on my shoulder, and I drink in her features, but my eyes stutter to a stop at the mark on her neck. My lip curls in annoyance, and I cut my thumb to draw a rune over the bruise, forcing it to heal. She pushes me too far sometimes, and I wonder if she knew how close to the edge I am, if it would make any difference.

My teeth grind. How much longer can I keep my most violent impulses at bay? How much longer can I keep myself from killing those who got to experience her? No matter how they helped her through her grief, no matter that I know she’ll never forgive me if she loses someone else⁠—

“Stranger,” she moans softly into my neck, still asleep.

The single word soothes the anger coiling inside me, at least temporarily. Even in sleep, she searches for me, dreams of me, fantasizes about me. The boys she passes her time with don’t matter. In the end, it’s me. Everything and everyone else is a distraction. They are all just noise.

“Good girl,” I praise her softly. Dream of me. Crave me. Want me.

As if in response to my unspoken commands, her hips rock against me, rubbing her core along my cock. “Fuck,” I mutter. I was already asking a lot of my restraint when I picked her up and wrapped her around me, but her moving like this against me is something straight out of my dreams.

“Don’t stop . . .” she whimpers.

Fuck. Me.

“Princess!” I say, landing a hard slap to her ass. She gasps sharply, and her eyes fly open. I smirk. “What were you dreaming about?”