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17
Iwoke, cheeks slick with tears, my breathing shallow. Auriol’s name whispered across my trembling lips. I sat up and found that Faenir was still in the chair. Relief flooded through me, and I fell back onto the pillows.
Faenir slept soundlessly. Simply reminding myself of his presence helped pull me from the dregs of the night terror. He was the reminder I needed to understand I was no longer in that nightmare, for the real world was one far more frightening.
It was hard to focus on what I had dreamt which made me wake with tears. Auriol had been there as she had most nights, waiting for me in the dark. Sometimes she welcomed me, other times she wept as though she could not see me, as though I was already dead.
This time the dream was different.
Her stomach was swollen, her hands cradling it as if she required some assistance with its heavy presence. She sang to it, a beautiful voice full of hope and promise.Then she stopped. Her pregnant belly was gone. She looked down at her hands, now sodden with blood, and she screamed. Auriol’s gentle face split into a drawn-out cry that warped her features. She howled and thrashed, begged for her child to be returned to her.
I woke before I saw any more.
I laid like that for a while, looking up at the towering ceiling above whilst listening to the Faenir’s soft breathing. Beyond it was the gentle lap of the Styx, one of Haxton’s greatest lies. It sounded so peaceful, yet I knew it was far from that. How could both sounds be so calming yet come from such dangerous things?
A chill blew in through the balcony doors, causing the brush of lace curtains to skim over the stone flooring. It cooled the tears across my face and chilled my skin until I shivered from more than just the low temperature.
Despite all the sounds of night it was Faenir’s breathing that captured my attention. Soon enough that was all I could focus on. How both his inhale and exhale was feather soft. It was so terribly quiet that I fixated on each breath just to make sure he didn’t break his rhythm.
I drove myself mad listening to him.
So, without much thought, I slipped from the bed and padded over to the chair; the floor was cold against my bare feet. Perhaps it was my delusion that drove me to his side. Maybe my exhaustion or the bang to my head when Gale had thrust me to the floor. Deep down I knew it was neither of those things. It was my own selfish need, a want to fill my mind with other thoughts, more delicious and consuming. Tom would have been that distraction for me… but Faenir killed him. Yet that still did not deter me from reaching down and tracing my fingers across the hollow curve of his cheek.
Faenir’s breathing faltered; his golden, tired eyes crept open. “Why are you crying?”
Embarrassed, I cleared the stubborn dampness with the back of my hand. “I had a bad dream.”
I didn’t expect for Faenir to console me, nor did I know why I had come over to him. But his distraction was a powerful thing and I feared if I closed my eyes again, I would see Auriol and I couldn’t handle that again.
“Tell me what it is I can offer to help ease your sorrow.”
I played with his words, toying with all manner of thoughts that speared through my mind.My legs wove between his, pushing his knees apart with a soft nudge. Soon enough I stood between them, all the while Faenir had hardly moved a muscle; his attitude burned with anticipation and wonder.
“May I?” My eyes flicked to his strong thighs in silent suggestion.
Faenir’s hands reached for the arms of the chair and gripped them tightly. He opened his mouth as if to reply but a string of jumbled stutters followed. The chair creaked as I climbed onto it, straddling Faenir’s thighs until I sat perfectly upon them. He watched me with wide, unblinking eyes.“It feels as though I am the one dreaming now.”
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” I asked, leaning into him until my lips brushed across his neck; Faenir still gripped the chair as though his life depended on it. “To be touched. To feel what others do?”
“Arlo,” Faenir groaned as my tongue traced the skin at his neck in intricate circles. “You have been through a lot. You are confused.”
I pulled away enough that I could look up at him through the stubborn strands of ash blond hair that covered my eyes. That frown that Faenir wore so well had vanished. “I know what I am doing. If you wish for me to stop, then say so.”
“…I…”
“What?” I said quietly. “Believe me, Faenir, if I did not want you, I would not be doing this.” I did want him. But I wanted Faenir like I did with Tom, a way of filling the nights with more than just bad dreams.
Faenir shifted beneath me. I jolted as his hips moved and his legs widened in stance. Before I could fall two strong hands pressed against the tops of my ass and held firm. “Careful,” he said, fingers tensing. “I would not want you getting hurt.”
“But that is the point. Youcan’thurt me.”
I almost cried out when he removed one of his hands from my ass. My breath shuddered as his fingers surprised me, brushing across the side of my face and pushing the hair out of it. Faenir’s gilded eyes followed the movement of his own finger as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world.
“I still cannot fathom that you are real. Sometimes, for a moment, I trick myself into believing you are just a figment of my imagination, conjured from years of longing and wasted wishes… Yet here you are.”
I reached up and gripped his hand so it pressed against the side of my face and could not move away. “Well, I am real. So tell me what you wish to do with me.”
Perhaps I had said the wrong thing. My words caused Faenir to hesitate. The softness in his face hardened, his frown returning to its rightful place.
