Page 35 of What Whispers in the Dark
His arm—it was only hisarm. Not his chest or abdomen reformed of scars or …
For Alora, he would offer it—hecould.
So, slightly panic-stricken, Garrik reclined onto his back and outstretched his arm. His heart refused beating when Alora’sheavy eyes surveyed the dark sleeve bunching at his elbow and covering the bulging muscle above. She scanned the underarm curve between his arm and shoulder. From his chest to the brutal scar on his neck. Then, the uncertainty in his eyes.
And like a lamb with a lion, Alora’s face warmed as she carefully laid it on his bicep, accepting his silent gesture. She sank her cheek into the fabric and closed her eyes with an indulgent hum.
He shuttered his own as profound relief rippled through him. Realizing …thiscontact while on his back was not terminal. Not wholly terrifying. He could endurethisso long as it was Alora’s touch.
Not seconds later, his fingers laced through her hair, massaging delicately as his head fell against the blanket and he searched the stars. “I … I am unsure,” what the Stars Eternal looked like, he admitted. Though perhaps not truly as uncertain as he voiced aloud.
Because once, long ago, in the depths of Galdheir’s dungeons, when he clung to death and that … dream returned … Or maybe it was not a dream. Because he couldfeelit. Feel as he—utterly awestruck—brushed his fingertips over the inconceivable golden door and peeked between those gleaming bars.
Mount Caelum—he had been there outside the gates. When he had died. Where death carried him … only to be ripped away when he wanted to stay?—
Garrik shook his head from the memory.
He would never be there again. Would never return to heaven.
But then again, why need heaven when the closest thing to it was falling asleep on his arm? It was only a matter of time before one of them fell prey to sleep. Alora’s advantage was that she did not fear the nightmares.
Those enchanting eyes remained closed. Her cheek pressed into his bicep, as she curled her knees in the space between them and bent her arm so her loose fists framed her face.
Stars, no. In that moment, he did not need the Stars Eternal dream because everything in his was peacefully sleeping on him.
Alora… My dream.
No. Nothisanything. But for a moment …thismoment …
And he wondered as she trembled if his icy skin unbalanced the burning of hers. Perhaps tamed it. With a single thought, Smokeshadows feathered above her, braiding across her body, draping a blanket over her. Her tremors ceased, but he could not remove his gaze from her face.
One eyelid was visible, the other buried in his tunic sleeve. Loose strands of star-white hair tickled her face.
Garrik tucked them behind her ear, causing her mouth to twitch upward. In her sleep, Alora nuzzled closer. Not much, but enough that he felt her warmth without any other point of contact.
His fingers brushed from her temple to her cheek. So slowly, so carefully, not to wake her. Down her neck and to her shoulder, tender whispers of his fingertips as he imagined her doing to him. A comforting touch. Gentle. Something she had rarely received.
Could she feel it?
In her sleep, could she feel his unspoken words? How he cared for herso deeply,he did not understand it. That primal need to drown the world around them until it was only her in existence. That the only sound he wished to hear was her voice beyond a smile as bright as starlight. The only thing to eclipse the sun was her white hair, and to look upon it would prove fatal to his dying heart. That the only color he would ever care to see was found in a pair of bright blue eyes.
He never realized colors would mean so much to him. Not until his own was stolen and everything once vibrant and bright was replaced as lifeless, dull, and gray. Insignificant. Unappealing. Never realized he would care about a prismscale until looking into a pair of sapphire eyes—or wishing to see them now but choosing to not disturb her because that perfect, solemn sleep was more important than returning to camp to rest before dawn. More important than leaving for Alynthia.
There was no rushing for something he wished would last forever.
No rush because, for once in his starsdamned worthless life, forever was right there. In his arms. Bringing color and meaning andlifeback to his eyes to where he could almost imagine them returned to green.
For Alora … he wished they would.
Maybe that once simple, meaningless color would coax her cruel memories to fracture. That she would offer a smile at his coloring like she had begun to in recent weeks as she watched grasslilies sway or studied the mossy veins of jadestone. How she marveled at water spirits’ wings, fluttering like translucent clover flames dancing in the breeze. Elated when her fingertips traced viridian filigrees on leather tomes or captured the glinting emeralds on the ring of his mother’s he wore. No mourning willow or towering pine went unnoticed; their leaves a thing of beauty. Even the putrid stench of bioluminescent algae, though a vile thing, inspired visions of redemption and renewal.
Dusk: a masterpiece of ivy, mint, and seafoam melting across the horizon. Nightfall: a symphony of unending verdant auroras ribboning through the darkened sky.
He had never stared at a green gradient for so long, only when it was her eyes as the looking glass. Garrik had never found perfection in it like she did. Such a … trivial thing. But to her,even if she did not realize it … meant more than justsomethingthat he wanted to study it too.
He always noticed. Started looking for it—the moment when that color would brighten her eyes with wonder. With joy. A joy he wished he could bottle and unleash the very second she needed it. When her past haunted her. When she encountered a staircase and discovered his eyes?—
Starsdamnit… If only they would return to green.
