Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
He doesn’t respond, just stares at me with his ocean blue eyes.
“Valen, what does that mean exactly?”
“Sleep here with me, and I’ll tell you.”
“I don’t make deals. Not anymore.” I try to pull my hand away, but he doesn’t let go.
“Then do it as a mercy. You’re a healer. Your presence will help me recover.”
I sit down beside him and give him a wary look. “That’s not how any of this works.”
“But it is.” He pats the bed beside him. “Here. Just stay here with me, that’s all.”
I want to. A big part of me wants to curl up beside him and sleep some of the terrors of the past few months away. But another part of me yells that Valen is one those terrors, that I should get as far away from him as possible.
“Don’t be afraid, kedves verem. Your blood trusts mine. Just listen to it.” His eyes close. “Listen to the song in our veins. Your blood heard it when your mind couldn’t. Your heart knew. You knew me. My soul. You knew …” His grip on my wrist loosens, his body going lax. He’s out in only moments, his body finally giving in, forcing him to rest. The sharp angles of his face are softer now, younger. The slant of his dark brows less severe, the line of his jaw stark but not haughty. He’s beautiful. A slumbering reaper. I wonder if any of the multitudes he’s killed haunt his dreams.
I gently pull the blanket down and check the wound on his side. It’s still open, the muscle layer only now knitting back together. There’s no more blood, as if his organs have absorbed what remained of it. Healthy tissue, all of it healing.
He sleeps deeply, his breathing even.
Glancing at the door, I rise and ease toward it.
He groans.
I turn back to him.
His fingers twitch slightly.
I take a few more steps.
“Georgia.”
This time when I turn, he’s still, but his forehead is furrowed. Asleep but calling my name.
I hesitate for long moments, torn between the two worlds Valen created for me. One where he’s my lover, another where he’s my tormentor.
“Kedves verem, please. Please,” he whispers. ‘Please’ lingers on his lips as he mouths the word but makes no sound.
I take a deep, steadying breath, then pad back to the bed. Crawling in beside him, I settle with a good bit of distance between us.
His forehead smooths, his breathing going even and deep. I watch him until my eyelids become heavy. My body warm beneath his covers, everything here steeped in his scent of soap and him. I should’ve left. I should’ve severed my ties to the Valen from before, the one I let into my body, into my heart.
Instead, I chose him.
Then and now.
Again and again.
6
Istare for long enough that my eyes are able to focus in the low light. Valen still sleeps, his body relaxed, breathing even. He’s facing me now, his dark hair falling against his cheek, the blanket down around his hips.
The wound on his side is completely healed. I don’t know how long I slept, but I awoke warm and comfortable, Valen’s arm beneath the pillow where my head is.
I turn toward him slowly, analyzing every bit of his smooth skin, the musculature beneath, the absence of any trauma or bruising. It’s as if he were never hurt. When I’d cleaned him up in DC, his wounds were often deep or deadly for a human, but nothing compared to what Gregor did to him. Like a systematic murder, taking Valen apart piece by piece in whatever way would cause the most pain.
All this suffering, all of it for me. It’s an uncomfortable, yet undeniable, truth. He could’ve given me up when I killed Theo. Could’ve ended the charade at any time while he kept me prisoner here. His cruelty toward me—it was a kindness. Every vicious act was nothing more than a way to hide me away from Gregor, from death.
“When I found out you were being held—”
His low voice startles me, and I peer into his now-open eyes. Blue and stormy, full of so much emotion that he never allowed me to see before.
“When I found out Whitbine had you for questioning.” His jaw tightens. “I would’ve come to free you then. I wanted to.” He reaches out and strokes my cheek gently, so gently.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Coal.” He sighs, his eyes closing. “He silvered me. I never saw it coming, never suspected he’d move against me like that. He crucified me to keep me here. To keep me from coming for you.”
“What?” I swallow hard. “He crucified you?”
“That torment was nothing compared to what you suffered. But Coal was right.” His voice is deep and smooth, the surface of an underground lake with no bottom. “If I’d come for you like I’d wanted to, Gregor would’ve killed us both without a thought. I had to plan, to wait—it was the only way to get you out. I fed Whitbine my blood, poisoned him with my will to keep him from—” His jaw tenses. “—from doing any worse. But my influence couldn’t be strong enough to be noticed. It took time, and every night you were in that fucking prison, the more desperate I became. Coal counseled patience.”