Page 54 of Slaying the Vampire Conqueror

Atrius went rigid. His eyelids fluttered, though he yanked them back open every few seconds. He didn’t have the strength to raise a mental wall against me, but he tried anyway.

I slid one hand down his arm, my thumb tracing a comforting circle.

“Don’t fight it,” I whispered.

“I don’t have time—” he choked. “I have to?—”

“Shh.”

He was tired. So, so tired. When he gave up, he didit all at once.

His hand slid around mine, so his palm lay atop it. I could feel his eyes on me, holding on for as long as he could.

“Thank you,” he rasped, finally.

And then he let himself fall.

I lay therenext to him for hours. The sun rose, leaving streaks of pinkish daylight seeping under the drawn velvet curtains, the castle growing quiet, and I remained.

Atrius slept heavily, but fitfully, despite the sedation. In the beginning, he stirred every hour, muscles twitching and deep lines of concern or anger or terror spasming over his forehead. In sleep, he had a much lighter hold on his presence—or perhaps my connection to him still lingered from earlier that night. I could feel that fear, just like that terrible cold, seeping out.

I didn’t wake him. With every nightmare, I sent him another comforting wave of peace until he finally stilled.

With every one, I solidified the realization that this was likely the first time Atrius had slept for more than an hour or two in a very, very long time.

Eventually, the gaps between his nightmares grew longer. In the dead quiet of midday, my own exhaustion started to set in. It had taken so much of my energy to treat him. My magic and my body were spent.

I didn’t remember drifting away—only that when sleep came for me, I accepted it with open arms.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The caress on the bare skin of my shoulder almost tickled. Almost.

I was warm. Peaceful. Something gentle was stroking my skin, back and forth, in feather-light touches. My hair rustled as if by a distant breeze.

Such a nice sensation.

I had no thoughts yet, only nerve endings. Only a foreign, primal sense of safety and companionship and…

…Something else, something that whispered of things I only let myself feel alone at night.

The touch ran up my arm again.

This time I was aware enough to feel the goosebumps rise with the stroke of that fingernail. My skin shivered, the chills circling the most sensitive parts of my body—my breasts, my inner thighs—like a pleasant plea for more.

Mm. A nice dream.

I arched my back. Felt a thick hardness against my rear. Felt a firm wall of a body. A low groan reverberated through me as arms pulled me back against that warmth, and lips pressed against the shell of my ear.

I stiffened.

All at once, I was awake.

My dream was very much not a dream.

I was no longer sleepy at all. I jerked upright, sending Atrius rolling roughly onto his back, blinking blearily, obviously disoriented.

I cleared my throat. “Good?—”

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