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They didn’t have to. They all knew the reason. You don’t get to be an heir to a demon house without paying your dues, without passing your tests. Without showing beyond a shadow of a doubt that you can torment others and be tormented yourself and say you like it.
Yeah, I like it, hit me harder. Keep hitting me until I pass out. I’ll grow to like it.Sure, all demons are the same. Sure, we all love torture. Do unto others what you want done unto thyself. Give pain, receive pain, have it for breakfast, lunch, and fucking dinner, andthank you, Sir, can I have some more?
You learn to endure. You learn to hide your reactions. You learn to be tough like dragon hide, to get up every single time even when you think you’re dying. It leaves its mark. Takes its toll.
And I’ve run out of sleeping pills and reasons to live.
That’s what has me knocking on Sindri’s door before dawn, and then I remember he’s run out of fae drugs. Maybe he got more, but again it’s moot because he won’t fucking answer. He can’t have fallen asleep already, can he?
Why am I knocking on the asshole’s door when he won’t look me in the eye? I knock one last time. I think I hear a groan from inside but nothing happens, so I turn away, fuming.
He’s just being an ass because I’ve gone over to Ophelia’s side. Can’t bear losing, can he? His fault for choosing the weaker side, the side of the lying bitch who…
Saved me. Kissed me. Helped me. Stroked me and pleasured me and then…
I shake my head. There’s a buzzing in my ears. Black spots swim in my vision as my magicpullslike an injured muscle, leaking, sending ripples of pain over my skin and deep in my bones.
Fuck, no. Why now? I lean against Sindri’s door and fight it, fight to stopper the leak, to wrangle the power back into me. I recognize Ophelia’s magic, its pull, a net that surrounds me.
Ophelia is the strongest. She is the Queen we have been waiting for. She wants to help us, she is telling the truth, only the truth, she’s on our side—
“Fuck.” I’m on the floor, panting as dragonscale flows over my skin. “Enough, goddammit, that’s enough, stop—”
A different force touches me. Something tugs on me, a different kind of pull—soft, gentle, with a dash of fear and affection. It relaxes the net around me, helps me focus, haul back the surge of magic in me enough to breathe and take stock.
With my hand braced on the door, I make it back to my feet. The subtle pull calls for me, like a song, not a command, and the melody seems to echo in my brain.
No, not a melody. A voice.
Mia.
She’s afraid, something’s wrong, she may be in danger,and before I know it, I’m jogging down the corridor and climbing down the stairs.
Mia, I’m coming.
She doesn’t answer the door when I knock and what’s the fucking deal with people not answering their doors tonight? I can still feel that chilling fear and I know it’s coming from her. Is someone attacking her?
I turn the handle, push and break the lock, opening the door. “Mia!”
She’s on the bed.
Alone.
No attacker in sight, but she’s curled up on her side, shivering. A sound reaches me and I realize she’s quietly weeping into her pillow, her shoulders shaking—and yet she doesn’t seem to hear me enter.
Nightmares. I know all about those, like I said. I can recognize the signs when I see them. Still, it doesn’t explain why I take off my T-shirt and climb into bed with her, why I pull her into my arms, try to soothe her. She comes willingly, turning to burrow against me, resting her cheek on my chest. I tuck her head under my chin and close my eyes.
It’s strangely calming, holding her. Like holding a teddy bear, I guess, only I’ve never had teddy bears. She’s warm and soft and smells like flowers. Holding her is pleasant. She’s cuddly. Warm. Soft.
And sexy, too, but my body is too damn exhausted from this endless day to appreciate that fact properly. I’m content to hold her, glad that she seems to relax and drift back into sleep.
I can’t sleep but at least, I can do this for her and… My eyes are closing. It’s good to lie down and rest for a while. She sniffles in her sleep and I rub her back and images of flowering fields and white houses flash behind my lids. Children laughing, a melody playing. The light is golden and low, a brook flows and burbles. Where am I? I often dream of sinking into the ground but I feel light. I often dream of burning alive but my feet are in cool water. I often dream of the past but what I’m seeing isn’t part of it.
I don’t even realize when sleep claims me until some indeterminate time later, her voice says in my ear, “What in baby Jesus’ name are you doing in my bed, Rys?”
Waking up from the first real sleep I’ve had in ages is hard. Surfacing through layers of what feels like soft blankets and clouds to full consciousness, I become aware of the fact that I have a pretty, sexy girl curled up against me and that at some point during the early morning hours—when I arrived here, I remember now—the straps of her top have fallen over her shoulders and her cleavage…
Oh, fuck me now…
