by Sara Page
Thankfully that plate and his boots are the only things Warrick removes before climbing into the bed.
Does he mean to sleep with me?
I scramble backwards but his hands are quicker.
Now I really must protest. “I’m exhausted,” I say, hoping he gets my meaning.
Stars help me if he pushes it, though I’m hopeful he won’t try to force the issue—intentionally.
With one hand he yanks the covers back, with the other he helps maneuver me beneath them. Each touch is gentle but firm as he positions me until I’m on my side, facing away from him.
Perhaps he’s just tucking me into bed, I wonder hopefully. Until he slides under the covers and snuggles up to my back. One heavy arm wraps around my chest and one heavy thigh pins my legs to the bed.
I lay there, stiff as a board, fearing that he’s going to make a move on me. I don’t know how much time passes but it feels like an eternity before he begins snoring.
Seriously?
It’s a struggle, but with enough squirming beneath the weight of his limbs, and enough straining of my neck, I manage to turn enough to look at his face. He is indeed sleeping, and he looks just as peaceful as when I was stroking his cheek. I watch him, waiting for a sign that he’s faking it but his snoring is steady, even.
It’s hard to lay beside him, listening to the rhythm of his deep breathing without feeling myself relaxing. Drifting.
I jerk awake suddenly, confused about what disturbed me. There’s a clang. Metal connecting. Movement draws my eye. Vis is standing at the end of the bed, removing his armor.
“What are you doing?” I ask, whispering.
He lifts his brows at me. “Getting more comfortable.”
Oh, gods. “Why?”
He just stares at me like I’m idiot or something. “So I can get some sleep.”
I have to swallow down a lump of anxiety before I ask, “Where do you plan to sleep?”
“In my bed,” he answers, yanking the helmet from his head.
Oh, okay. For a second there I was afraid he was intending to sleep in this bed. I feel totally stupid now for over-reacting. Relaxing against Warrick, I begin to fall back to sleep. My breathing picks up his rhythm. I’m drifting into dreamland.
The covers twitch and I’m instantly awake again.
“What are you doing?” I gasp as Vis starts to slide under the blankets.
He stops instantly and scowls at me. “Getting into my bed.”
I hold my breath for a moment as I wrap my mind around the realization. This is his bed? Why didn’t he say something?
Uh-uh. No way are these two going to make an Ameia sandwich out of me. “You are not sleeping in this bed.”
“Where am I supposed to sleep, princess?” he asks expectantly. “I’ve given you my bed. Do you mean to show your appreciation by banishing me to the floor?”
Why does he have to make me the bad guy here?
“You didn’t tell me this was your bed,” I argue, refusing to feel guilty. “How was I supposed to know?”
“I thought it was obvious.”
“It wasn’t,” I frown.
“I’m sorry for that,” he apologizes.
I’m so shocked by his apology that I’m speechless. He must take my silence as acceptance. He starts to slide into bed again and I blurt out, “Please,” to stop him.
He pauses and his head inclines to the side. “Please?”
“Can’t you sleep in the white room?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t trust you enough to leave you alone with him.”
Damn. He doesn’t trust me? He’s afraid to leave Warrick with me?
It’s so absurd at first I almost want to laugh, but the dark look Vis gives me quickly sobers me up.
“I don’t want to hurt him,” I say quietly and it feels like Warrick’s arm flexes a little bit.
Vis nods his head. “I believe you. But we both know that wanting and doing are two different things.”
He’s already made me feel like such a villain, I have the greatest desire to prove I’m anything but. Dammit all, I shouldn’t have to do this. I’m the victim here. I’m the one who was kidnapped.
Vis drops the blanket and begins to pull away from the bed, probably resigning himself to the floor.
I reach out and grab the blanket, yanking it back.
Vis jerks to a stop and looks at me like he can’t believe it. There’s a moment where his guard drops from his eyes and I look away quickly, both shocked and terrified by what I see in there.
“Do I have your permission?” he asks so quietly, so softly he almost sounds vulnerable.
“Yes,” I croak out and wiggle back, retreating into Warrick’s warm arms.
Chapter Ten
I don’t know how I fall back asleep but somehow I do.
I dream of shadows dancing, and of monsters roaring. Stars fall and palaces explode, but the ball must go on.
Drawn to the dance floor, I wear a gown of ivory fabric so soft it feels like it was crafted from the clouds. The dancers on the floor beckon, their eyes gleaming and their edges wavering. My feet carry me towards them against my will.
I’m passed around, from one set of arms to the next. Each dancer is different yet they all feel the same. The same tight grip, the same menacing grin. The same steps. I try to pull away, but it’s all in vain, a waste of strength. It’s not until I accept that I’m trapped that I fall through the floor.
I land in Beast’s arms. He spins me around, leading me through the appropriate steps. Keeping too many inches between us. I try to talk to him, try to touch his face but he looks right through me like I’m not even there.
I cry and wail, beating at his chest, giving into despair. Still he’s unaffected, his features frozen. Not even a flicker of recognition. He passes me off to the next partner like he doesn’t even care.
It’s not until my next partner grabs me, spinning me around and pressing me close, that I feel a spark of hope.
“Ameia,” Striker purrs and nuzzles his face into my hair.
“Striker,” I gasp and grab onto him, never wanting to let go.
“I told you to remain quiet,” he sighs.
“I know, I’m sorry,” I apologize. I’ve never been more sorry in my life.
“It doesn’t matter,” he says, pulling away. “None of it matters anymore.”
“Don’t leave me,” I cry, feeling him being pulled away, slipping right through my fingers.
“We’re coming for you, Ameia,” he promises and his eyes flare. “Don’t let him break you.”
He’s gone suddenly, disappearing into thin air. I spin in circles, searching for them. Searching for a way out. I take two steps and feel the shadows thickening, cutting off the air.
“Ameia,” a voice growls, filling me with fear.
I pick up my fluffy skirts and run. The floor scrolls beneath my feet yet I feel like I’m getting nowhere.
“Ameia.” The growl softens, sounding more familiar.
I stop. Hesitating. Listening.
“May I have this dance?” Vis asks, stepping out of the darkness.
I take a step towards him but pull up short. I don’t know why but something about this feels very wrong, like it’s forbidden.
“Ameia?” he asks, his face falling.
My heart tightens with his disappointment.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize, and turn away from him. “My dance card is full.”
* * *
“Ameia.”
Something bumps against my nose and I mutter, trying to roll away from it. I don’t want to wake up, I want to keep dreaming.
“Ameia,” the voice says again, interrupting my fall back into unconsciousness.
I only want oblivion.
“It’s too early,” I grumble and would yank the covers over my head if they’d move but something heavy is weighing them down. “Just a few more minutes.”
My n
ose is bumped again, and I feel myself growing angry. Can’t a girl get any sleep around here?
“Ameia.”
“What?” I snap and peek my eyes open. The face in front of my face is not the one I was expecting to be there.
It all comes rushing back in as I take in Warrick’s twisted horns and obsidian features. I’m not asleep with one of my guys on the Harpy or the Harpy’s Talon. My guys are gone, Beast and Striker are gone, and I’m trapped here.
For one blissful moment I was ignorant, oblivious.
“Ameia,” Warrick says softly, his face mirroring my pain.
“Stars,” I gasp and close my eyes to hold back the tears.
Warrick shifts above me and then pulls me up, cradling me in his lap against his chest. I don’t even fight him; I have to focus all of my strength on holding myself together.
I’m so close to breaking, so close to letting the pain shatter me into a million pieces. It would be so easy to let go. To let the pain take me. But I can’t be weak, I don’t have the luxury. Mentally and emotionally I need to keep my shit together. There are two little ones who need me to be their hero.
“Ameia,” Warrick says once more, and I wonder why he keeps repeating my name over and over.
Then it hits me. Pulling away, I tip my head back and peer up at his face my damp lashes.
“You can say my name?”
Warrick’s lips curve into a smile, pleased that I’ve finally acknowledged his accomplishment. “Ameia.”
“Can you say anything else?” I ask.
Warrick nods his head, his eyes flashing brightly. “Mine,” he rumbles deep in his throat.
The way he says it causes something to tighten deep inside of me. It feels too right, too solidified.
I’m just a little freaked by it.
“Could you say my name yesterday?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
What does this mean?
The door to the room opens. I arch up to peek over Warrick’s broad shoulder. Vis walks in, outfitted once more in his armor, carrying a soft bundle in his hands.
Shutting the door behind him, Vis eyes our position on the bed. Lifting a brow, he asks, “Am I interrupting something?”
I shake my head and duck back down, hiding behind Warrick’s back. I remember how the three of us slept last night and I feel just a little weird about the whole situation. Who is Vis? What is he to Warrick? How do I fit in?
Warrick seems to be content in our current position. Snuggling me close, he buries his face in the crook of my neck, just breathing me in. I find the intimacy oddly comforting. Even relaxing against him as a purr softly vibrates his chest.
Intellectually, I know Warrick is a stranger and I should not feel so comfortable with the liberties he’s taking. Yet today I feel like I’ve known him for much longer than a day. I feel like I can trust him and take what comfort I need from him.
“Princess?” Vis inquires softly from the side of the bed.
“Yes?”
I lift my head slowly, feeling dazed. I didn’t even realize I had leaned into Warrick, pressing my forehead against his shoulder as he pressed his lips to my neck.
“King Zar has sent a clean garment for you to change into.”
“He has?”
“Yes, we are to dine with him tonight. You will be his guest of honor.”
“How… flattering…” I say with just a pinch of uneasiness.
I’m not sure I’m ready to face the Devourer just yet, much less eat with the man. Is he even still a man?
“Would you like to bathe before you change? You are welcome to use my personal facilities.”
“That would be lovely, thank you,” I smile tightly at Vis.
Something has changed with him as well. It feels like there’s this weird, strained pleasantry between us, like Vis is trying hard to be nice to me. Perhaps it’s all a show for Warrick? Or perhaps the Devourer said something to him?
Vis nods and stands to the side, waiting expectantly.
Warrick grumbles something unintelligible while reluctantly helping me off the bed and to my feet.
“What was that?” Vis asks with a start.
Warrick grumbles again and Vis asks, “What the fuck? When did you start talking?”
Personally I wouldn’t necessarily call that talking, but Vis appears to be disturbed or excited by it. I can’t tell which.
Warrick shrugs his shoulders and Vis turns to me.
“Has he talked to you?” he asks almost accusingly.
“He’s said mine, a lot. And he’s spoken my name…”
Warrick grins. “Ameia.”
Vis’ eyes widen at Warrick. “What the fuck?”
I look between Vis and Warrick, then step closer to Warrick. He takes my move as an invitation to wrap his arm around my waist and pull me closer.
Vis glares at the arm wrapped around me angrily.
“Why are you so surprised?” I ask Vis.
His gaze flicks up to glare at my face. “Up until a couple of days ago, Warrick has been mostly mute for years.”
I glance up at Warrick in surprise. His dark eyes seem to be twinkling as he grins back down at me.
“Truly?” I ask.
He nods his head and his arm squeezes around me.
“What does this mean?”
Now I understand Vis’ disturbance. Did I cause this?
“I don’t know,” Vis says slowly, but I get the feeling he’s not being completely honest with me.
I stare deeply into Warrick’s twinkling eyes. He may be mostly mute, but his eyes are full of humor and intelligence.
“Ameia,” Warrick growls softly and bends down, gently kissing me.
Vis clears his throat loudly to get our attention. “I hate to interrupt, but if you wish to bathe before we leave you must make haste.”
Reluctantly Warrick pulls away.
Shaking my head, my cheeks burn and I feel out of sorts. Why did I let him do that? What is wrong with me? I’m supposed to be using our connection to manipulate him, not allowing it make me weak.
“Your dress, Princess,” Vis holds out the bundle of fabric.
I nod my head and try to step out of Warrick’s arm. There’s a flex of resistance before he releases me.
After accepting the bundle from Vis’ hands, Warrick tries to follow me into the facilities but I beg for privacy. The hurt way he looks at me I almost feel guilty about doing it. I know it makes him feel uneasy being separated from me but he relents to my request. He plants himself in front of the doorway, standing guard.
Vis may have told me to make haste but I take my time showering. Scrubbing hard at my skin.
I waste as much time as I can. I scrub and scrub but I don’t know if I’ll ever feel clean again. This place has tainted me in some way, I can feel it in my soul, feel it in my flesh. Beast was so worried about me spending too much time on the Other Side because it corrupts. Is that what’s happening to me? Am I being corrupted? Is that why I feel drawn to Warrick?
I miss Beast and Striker. Stars, how I miss them. I reach out just like Striker taught me how to do when I was blind, floating in the dark, and I feel them. I do. But it’s faint, far away. I can’t even guess the distance. They’ll come for me, I have faith in them. For the time being though I suppose I’ll have to do my best to stay alive and take comfort in knowing that they still exist.
“Princess…” Vis urges from the other side of the door.
“Just a minute,” I call out and slip the black gown he handed me earlier over my head.
The fabric of the gown is thin, nearly transparent. Sleeveless, the hem reaches the floor, but the neckline is such a deep V the tip ends below my belly button.
Is my stomach a little rounder? I wonder, or is it just the shape of the dress?
“Princess?”
“This dress is indecent!” I call out in protest. You can see nearly all of my breasts.
“The King insists.”
The King is
sick.
“Ameia,” Warrick says and the door handle rattles.
Lifting my chin in the air, I set my shoulders. Do I create a fuss about this too? It hardly feels worth it. I need to be careful what battles I pick. If I bitch and complain about every little thing, it will quickly grow tiresome. So what’s a little cleavage? I’ll just have to suck this up and deal with this.
Sweeping out of the bathroom, I pull open the door and walk into stunned silence. Both Warrick and Vis stare at me, nearly gaping. I can’t help but flush, warming from the attention. Warrick’s face is hungry, his eyes devouring me. As the seconds tick by, Vis appears to be growing more and more angry.
“Shall we?” I ask impatiently and move like I’m heading for the door, expecting them to catch up or follow me.
Chin up, Ameia, you can do this.
Vis steps in front of me, cutting me off as I reach for the door. He moved so fast, I pull back and gasp in surprise.
His mouth curves into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Allow me.”
Opening the door, he steps out, granting me just enough room to squeeze pass as he holds it open. I’m all too aware, however, of the tension intensifying between us. Walking through that narrow gap he leaves me feels somehow precarious, and yet a challenge. Almost as if he’s daring me to do it.
I think Vis is pissed at me, perhaps even hates me, though I don’t know why. The air feels charged with restless energy that only intensifies as I accidentally brush against his side.
Unlike the sparks I feel with Beast, Striker, or even Warrick, it’s not a pleasant feeling. It’s a feeling that promises pain and violence.
Warrick growls behind me and shoves past Vis, forcing Vis to take a step back.
Taking my hand, Warrick tucks it into the crook of his arm and leads me down the hallway. Behind us Vis growls softly, viciously. Warrick either doesn’t hear it or chooses to ignore it. The growl reminds me Vis is my foe, not my friend. And I should do everything in my power to ensure I’m never left alone with him.
Chapter Eleven
The journey through the dark halls and down the spiraling staircases goes by entirely too fast. I almost wish there were more long, dark hallways… More spiraling stairs to traverse.