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My throat closes, hardened to stone.
Concern creases Dashel’s brow. “Comfort only. Is that alright?”
His offer slashes the wound open, gaping and raw. Tears slide down my face, and I bury my face in the pillow I’d used to cover my ears.
Dashel climbs in behind me, pulling my back to his chest. His warmth seeps into my chilled skin, and slowly, I relax in his arms. He hums softly next to my ear. The tune isn’t familiar, but…
His voice slides over me, the melody settling into me, lulling me. Dashel traces soft strokes down my arm in time with his haunting, sad melody, and I let it all go, ruining the pillow with salty tears. He says nothing. Not a single word as quiet sobs wrack my shoulders.
After quite some time, the tears stop, and a pleasant numbness falls on me. My mind stops whirring.
“Rest, Dove,” Dashel whispers, so close his breath fans the shell of my ear. “Rest and know that I will never ask more of you than you are willing to freely give. No bargains. No trading favors.”
I suck in a shuddering breath and eventually fall asleep, cradled in his arms, his warm, smokey scent swirling around me.
There are no nightmares. No blood spreading slowly on my father’s war room floor.
I wake some time in the night. Dashel’s deep, even breathes at my back, his arm still wrapped around me. And with a new sense of resolve.
A stiffer lip, a steely backbone.
I did what I had to, and I will continue to do that until I get my godsdamn soul-bonded.
Fuck the guilt and shame. Fuck the Book of Grace.
I must treat this just like I treat my brain when it goes off-course. I have to lean in, accept my role as the tempting demoness four demon heirs are intent on sharing.
Satisfied with my new perspective, I nuzzle deeper into the bed. Dashel tightens his hold, pulling me even closer. And I drift back off to sleep.
When I wake early the next morning, Dash is gone. And instead of sinking into the confusing mixed emotions seeing the empty bed still rumpled where Dashel lay, instead of letting it pull me into a downward spiral, I just let it be.
I don’t overthink.
I accept it. All of it.
After a few moments, I reach for my tablet for the first time since the Auction.
There are hundreds of missed messages and video calls from Stevie, Jess, and Austin.
Too many to sort through. So I make a new group chat with all four of us.
Dove Collins
Hey guys. Thank you so much for all your messages over the weekend. It really means a lot. I wasn’t in the space to deal then but wanted you to know I appreciate it.
Immediately, typing dots appear at the bottom of the message.
Jess Andrews
Girl! We’re just glad you’re OK. Austin and I were just talking about how you skipped the rest of yesterday and how we hoped you were OK.
Stevie Corvus-Stoclin
Yeah! We’re just happy you’re OK.
In a separate message, Stevie adds her sentiment.
Stevie Corvus-Stocklin
