Page 28 of Shadowbound

He crawls under the covers with me and I wrap my arms around him and pull his head down to my breasts. I call upon my power and pour peace through him, easing the terror of the dream.

“Gods, Mistress…” He wraps his arms around me and holds me tight, pressing his face to my breasts. His big body is shaking against mine—I feel it and it makes me sad—so sad for that little boy he once was. I feel tears stinging my eyes as I hold him.

My own mother was cruel to me, but not physically—with her it was the emotional distance she kept between us—the coldness that was always there when all I wanted was to be held, the same way I’m holding my Paladin now.

Alaric is more awake now and he looks up at me, his eyes uncertain in the dimness.

“That dream…that fucking dream—I haven’t had it in fucking months,” he growls. “Thought I didn’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“Do you have it often, then?” I ask him.

He shakes his head.

“Not as often as the others—the fucking sex dreams.”

The Jewel of Knowing pulses at my temple and I see what he means. He’s been denying himself for years, so of course his body craves release. The only place that can happen is in his sleep, since he’s always rigidly controlled when he’s awake.

“You asked the blacksmith to make you a sheath studded with spikes to keep from getting hard at night and giving in to the dreams,” I murmur, unable to understand this level of self-harm and pain.

“It was the only way to keep from fucking coming in my sleep every night,” he growls. “Those dreams are the most common. But the other one…” He squeezes his eyes tight for a moment and I see the pain on his face.

“What happened to him—that horrible priest?” I ask fiercely. “I hope he was hung for what he did to you!”

“Well, he did get his ‘just desserts.’” His voice in the dim room is dry. “The first time my Celestial Fire came out, I blew him to fucking Kingdom Come.” He gives a harsh laugh. “So much for ‘building the Holy Fire.’”

“Good!” I exclaim. “I’m glad of it! How dare he hurt an innocent child like that?”

“He was just trying to bring out my power so I could serve the GodKing,” Alaric protests.

But I see the pain on his face and feel the deep shiver that runs through his big, muscular body. The memory haunts him and the dream is only a symptom of the agony and terror inflicted on his younger self. It lingers with him still.

I want to heal him. I have a number of healing spells—I studied them on my own, of course. My mother had no interest in such things but I have amassed quite a collection. And of course, I know where I can find the best spell for this moment.

I start to get off the bed but Alaric’s arms tighten around me.

“Where are you going?” he demands. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“Don’t worry—I’ll be back,” I promise.

Drawing my robe around me, I go to my Ritual Room and find the Thornheart Grimoire already on the altar. I knew it would be waiting for me—it appears when it feels my need.

Of course I must feed it a drop of blood or a tear to make it open. Tonight I have no need to prick my finger. I simply bow my head and let a tear fall on its leather binding.

It groans and droplets of black blood form around its edges as the pages part, but it opens exactly to the spell I need.

Some spells call for special ingredients—some only need emotion. The Grimoire has offered me the latter, for which I’m grateful—I want to get back to my Paladin quickly.

I read over the spell and then speak it aloud, pouring all the horror and sorrow I saw in Alaric’s dream and all my caring into every line. The more emotion, the stronger the spell and I’m filled with feelings right now.

“Now in this my darkest hour,

Fill me with the healing power.

Let me take away the pain,

Let the evil memories wane.”

As the words leave my lips, I feel the spell working on me. My breasts are suddenly fuller and my nipples are tight. Good—I’ll be able to heal him now.

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