Page 157

She bit her lips together, and as he carried her into his bedroom his brows furrowed. “I understand if after what happened today you don’t feel—”

“Oh no,” she interrupted as he set her down. “It’s not that.”

He looked confused. “Then what is it?”

“What if I…get a nightmare?”

For a moment he was still but then he started to chuckle. “Why would that matter?”

“Last time I scratched you.”

“I think I survived it, narrowly,” he teased.

“I’m serious.”

“You’re right, I think I might still be dizzy from the blood loss I suffered that day.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Dawson.”

“Oh, it’s Dawson again, is it?” He grinned, enjoying this all way too much for her liking.

When she still glared at him angrily, he continued. “I don’t care if you have a nightmare. I’d rather be there and wake you up from it. I’m glad I was there last time. In fact, I want to be there every time.”

With trepidation she walked farther into his room. The last time she was here she had been on truth elixir, determined to get out as quickly as possible.

Now she had time to notice the neatly stacked books on the table. His closet was filled with a variety of jackets, shirts, and waistcoats. She ran a hand over the row of button-down shirts. Everything was black and white. No colors. In a tray on the dresser sat cuff links in various shapes and sizes. Some with his initials. Some with the Dark Magic symbol on it.

He watched her carefully as she took inventory of his clothes. She grabbed one of his white collared shirts and put it on, then conjured the black linen trousers she wore at night. She walked back to him and tossed the towel at his face. He caught it with one hand, grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her to his bed. She squealed and he laughed.

They moved under the covers and he slid behind her, wrapping his arm around her and bringing her close to his warm body. He kissed her neck gently, and for the first time in forever, she relaxed.

Perhaps there was still one place where she was safe—in Aidric’s arms.

45

Mira ran as fast as she could, away from the snarling of Feeders, their hands reaching for her. She knew it was a nightmare, but something about it felt real. The danger that was after her, coming closer still, it was there, hiding in the shadows. So she ran. Until her lungs burned and her heart raced. The hallway of the old castle was endless, and although she didn’t see him, she could hear Rakkley’s voice in her head, taunting her.

There is nowhere for you to run. I will find you.

The door she and Aidric had escaped through last time was right in front of her; she just had to get to it. The snarling of Feeders grew closer, but she didn’t dare to turn around. When she reached the door, she opened it but then heard Aidric’s voice pierce through the endless echoes of snarls.

“Mira!” He sounded desperate.

She woke up with dread in her heart. But she wasn’t in his bed. Her blood froze. She stood outside the estate. Barefoot in the snow-covered grass. Past the gardens.

Aidric was in the distance, calling her name. He coin traveled and appeared in front of her.

“Let’s get you back inside,” he said.

Tentatively, he stretched out his hand. Like she was an injured animal and he wanted to make sure she knew he was no danger to her.

“How did I get here?”

“You probably sleepwalked down here.”

Something cold settled over her. The door she had been running to in her dream. It was no exit.

“Aidric, I—”