“Fuck if I know. I don’t sleep well either.” Not unless he was with me.
With another rumble, he silently hopped from the bed and vanished into the hall.
A shaky breath poured from my lungs, and I closed my eyes, trying to find any semblance of calm. Just when Fane and I had admitted we couldn’t fight this pull toward each other, Venna forced us to Heldrok and then ripped us apart.
Seeing him so confused and torn was just as bad as feeling his hatred and wrath. Fane really couldn’t understand why he’d be with his brother’s killer. Most of the time, I didn’t either.
My scalp prickled, and Fane, in his real body and human shape, appeared in the doorway in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. The green stone, speckled with scarlet like drops of blood, dangled in the center of his chest. I heaved a sigh, so exhausted from lack of sleep. “What now?”
Fane didn’t speak as his head tilted to the side, exploring me. My flesh prickled from the intensity of his gaze and the prolonged silence. Finally, he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
Chapter
Thirty-Two
The moisture zapped from my mouth as Fane pushed away from the closed door. “What are you doing?”
Did he finally decided he’d had enough and couldn’t resist choking the life out of me?
“I need some fucking sleep.” He marched across the room to the other side of the queen bed and slipped under the covers.
I blinked, waiting on the punchline. “Why do you think sleeping in here will help?”
He hit his pillow to puff it up. “You thought it just a second ago. You didn’t mean for me to hear it, but I did.”
Son of a bitch. I’d said that into his head?
“Yes, you did.”
My eyebrows slammed down my forehead. “Stop reading my thoughts.”
“Stop projecting them to me.”
With a huff, I turned on my side, giving him my back. It wasn’t the smartest idea. I should have slept facing him with one eye open.
Fane’s warmth swelled over me as he closed the gap between us, his body aligning with mine. “I might still kill you, maybe even while you sleep. That would be one way to get rid of your nightmares.”
“Or they could permanently stick with you once I’m gone.”
A low rumble shook his chest. “You would be that vindictive.”
“Me vindictive?” I scoffed and yanked the covers up to my neck. “The pot calling the kettle black, Maverick.”
I expected him to move away after he delivered his threat, but he remained directly behind me, curving into me as his breathing evened out.
After a few minutes, his quiet voice spilled into the room. “Did those things really happen to you? Everything in your nightmares?”
“Some of them,” I admitted.
“The ones with a man in a pool house?—”
I stiffened to stone as soon as he brought up Mr. Bowden. “Don’t.” My stomach soured at the thought of Fane seeing what that sick bastard did to me while I was so weak and vulnerable.
Angry heat blazed from his skin like an inferno as a snarl clawed up his throat. “I’d like to hunt him down and kill him.”
“I know.” He’d told me the same thing when he first realized what had happened. “Be my guest. I never want to see him again.”
“What if I bring you his head on a stake?” He hummed, deep in thought. “His hands too. What about his?—”