Page 20 of The Soulbond and Her Beloved

The scent of stale ale and unventilated space assaulted her nose. Scanning the room, she searched for him.

His once-immaculate bedchamber was a mess. Clothes were strewn carelessly across the furniture, empty bottles of ale littering the floor.

But... he doesn’t drink.Emeriel’s heart lurched; ale upset his stomach and made his beast restless.

Then, she heard a faint groan.

Following the sound, she walked around to the other side of the bed…

Grand King Daemonikai lay sprawled on the floor, his large frame partially hidden by the shadow of the bed. Head rested against the side of the mattress, eyes closed.

“Your Grace?” she called, tentatively.

Nothing.

Emeriel bent down, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder. “Your Highness...?”

His eyes snapped open, the sudden movement startling her.

Gaze unfocused, darting around the room as if trying to piece together where he was. Then his nostrils flared... and then his eyeslockedonto her.

They watched each other without any reaction from him. Then, without warning, images of him, unhinged and merciless, tore through her mind.

The memories ofthatnight.

Emeriel squeezed her eyes shut so tightly it almost hurt, trying to banish them with sheer will, fighting to steady her breathing.

Then, he sighed. “It’s nice to know you can still visit my dreams.”

Pulling herself out ofthere, she cleared her throat. “It’s not a dream..."

Daemonikai blinked.

For someone surrounded by gallons of ale, he didn’t look drunk, but he also didn’t look entirely present.

“You know, I think I prefer this dream," he said. "It’s better, compared to…”

“Please, get up.” She tried to pull him upright, but it was like trying to lift a slab of solid rock.

“I need you to help me here,” she said in a strained voice, bracing herself as she slid both hands under his arms to support him.

Another heavy sigh. But, he moved, pushing himself off the floor. As he stood to his full height, he leaned heavily against her, burying his face into the crook of her neck.

“For someone who’s only a dream,” he murmured in a muffled voice against her skin. “You smell incredible.”

Then, he pulled back, the haze in his eyes clearing. “Emeriel? What are you doing here? You should be in bed.”

“I’m fine right where I am.” Her eyes swept the room again, taking in the disorder. “What are you doing, Daemon? This isn’t you.”

He looked away. “Well, it seems I do not know myself anymore.”

“Come, let’s get out of here. We can wait in the study while the servants clean up.”

Battle warred in his face as he looked at her with pain and hesitation as though he couldn’t decide whether to accept the hand she was offering or retreat further into the darkness.

“Emeriel…”

“Please,” she urged, taking his hand in hers. “Do it for me.”

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