Page 127 of The Girl Who Fell Through Time
Selene doesn’t want to think about what he has been through these past few days, but she knows the rest is earned.
She shifts beside Dorian, curling her body next to his. The night is cool, a breeze whispering through the curtains, but she doesn’t mind the chill.
“Go to bed,” Soren mutters without opening his eyes.
Selene exhales a quiet laugh. “You first.”
His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t argue.
“Soren…” Selene begins.
“If you try to thank me for saving him, I’m going back to disliking you.”
Selene’s lips purse into a smile. “I read you a bedtime story. I’m your sister now, I’ve decided.”
Soren groans. “Never once in my life have I ever wanted an irritating little sister.”
“I’m older than you,” she reminds him.
“So you are.” He grins. “I notice you didn’t object to the irritating part—”
“I will throw a pillow at you.”
“No, you won’t. You wouldn’t risk disturbing your precious husband—”
Selene scrambles out of bed, marches into the next room, seizes a cushion from one of the chairs, and returns to hurl it in Soren’s face. He laughs. She picks it up and batters him with it, again and again, until she tosses it aside to hug him.
It’s not just to saythank you for saving Dorian.It’s to saythank you for making it safely home.
Soren flinches briefly before exhaling against her stomach, and letting his arms drift around her back.
Mine,thinks Selene. Soren is as much hers as Dorian is Ariella’s. He’s hers in a way she hadn’t known to claim another person. Whatever he says about never wanting a sister is a lie.
“Soren?” she whispers.
“Mmm?” he responds, voice muffled against the fabric of her dress.
“Next time you get poisoned, please let us know.”
“Noted.”
She pulls away from him, picking up the cushion. “Are you going to tell mehowyou got poisoned?”
“Nope.”
Selene takes a moment. “If… if you know about poisons, what happened with Lord Gideon?” she asks.
“I wasn’t there,” he tells her. “By the time I got to the capital, it was too late.”
No wonder he sticks so close to Dorian now. He likely blames himself in a way he shouldn’t, but will.
She looks back at Dorian. He hasn’t stirred once since they gave him the antidote, hasn’t mumbled in his sleep or called out for ghosts from his past. A good sign, she hopes.
Soren shifts, rubbing a hand down his face. “He’ll wake soon.”
Selene nods. “I know.” But soon isn’t now.
She wants to hear his voice, see his eyes open, confirm for herself that he is truly going to be all right. The thought of losing him had been too close, too real. Even now, it lingers, curling in the pit of her stomach like something waiting to pounce.
