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Iwoke in a cold sweat, gasping for breath, my lips still parted to form a scream.
“Morgan.” The voice was deep and commanding. “It’s all right. You’re safe. It was only a dream.”
I tried to focus, my breathing ragged. “It’s dark. Where are they? Where are they? We have to get out. They’re coming.”
“They aren’t here, Morgan.” The deep voice became soothing and hushed. “It’s just us. You’re safe now. What did you see?”
I let out a choked sob. “Lancelet.Iwas Lancelet. I could feel their teeth ripping into me. They were...”
Frantically I raised my hands to my face. Touched my cheeks. I was whole. Complete. Alive.
I didn’t deserve to be.
“I shouldn’t be here. I don’t deserve to be here.” I let the truth tumble out. “I don’t deserve to be alive. Not when I left her.”
There was silence. So he didn’t disagree.
Then strong hands grasped my wrists, pulling my hands away from my face.
“You know that’s false. If anyone is to blame, it’s me. Blame me, Morgan. There was nothing you could do.”
I didn’t try to pull away. “You don’t deserve my blame. I have been blaming you because it was easier than the truth. When really, I’m the one who left her.” The words flooded out. “IletVesper drag me away. I was a coward. I saved my own skin. No one else’s. At least you saved Odelna. And me. You saved me.”
Silence again.
I realized I had just admitted Draven had saved me. Like it or not. “I didn’t deserve saving,” I said. “You should have saved her instead. You should have looked for Lancelet. Not me. Why didn’t you look for her instead...”
I knew I was being unreasonable. I didn’t care. There was nothing reasonable or rational about the loss I felt. It was a pain in my heart I didn’t think would ever go away.
I could hear the desperation in my voice. The grief. My cheeks were already wet. Now fresh tears flowed down my face. I didn’t bother to hide them or wipe them away this time. No one ever wanted to cry. But sometimes you got to a point where the tears just couldn’t be held back.
He let out a frustrated growl. “You... I...”
A light glowed from on the bedstand. My eyes slowly focused. In the soft embrace of the lamp’s glow, the small black horns upon Draven’s forehead reminded me he was from a world not my own. His green eyes were stormy and turbulent, a blend of sorrow and simmering fury.
“What do you want me to say, Morgan? I’m sorry. I will always be sorry for not being able to save her. I hardly knew her, but I could see her worth. She was a good friend to you, I know that.”
“She was the best,” I choked out. “The dearest.”
“But you,” he continued, ignoring me. “I willneverapologize for saving you. I will never fucking regret coming for you. And I would do it again in a heartbeat. So don’t ask me to say sorry. Don’t expect me to. And don’t you ever, ever fucking say you didn’t deserve to be saved again, do you hear me? Listen to me clearly, you are worthy. You deserved saving. You deserved much more.” A dark look came over his face. “So much more than I’ve given you.”
I was shocked by the torrent of words. More than shocked. I was moved. I tried to hide it. “You don’t owe me anything. Some freedom maybe. I’m probably entitled to that.”
He gave a wry chuckle.
He was still holding me by the wrists. He seemed to realize it, too. I watched as he stared down at my hands. But instead of letting go, he started to make small motions along my skin with his thumbs, slowly and gently tracing soothing circles over the silver symbols that crossed my arms. After a few moments, he slid his thumbs down my wrists to my hands, opening them gently. His fingers moved across my skin, fingertips dancing along the contours of my palms, tracing the paths of each lifeline. Each stroke was deliberate, each stroke a caress.
I felt disoriented. Disarmed. What was this? A nighttime truce between two warring parties?
I could break it. Yank my hands away. Speak rough words that would drive him away–well, to his side of the bed at least.
But something in me was stopping me.
Something about his touch on my skin felt more right than anything I had ever felt before.
He wouldn't meet my eyes as he worked. His gaze remained lowered, his eyes fixed on my hands, his jaw locked stubbornly.
I tried to stay silent as my body awakened under his touch, relaxing and softening, the warmth returning to my limbs after the chill horror of the dream. Eventually the pleasure was too much to bear. As his fingertips dipped into the hollows of my palms and massaged gently, I let out a little moan of gratification.
