Page 159 of Blackheart

Breath hitching, I leaned forward. “Why do you have these?” That was Sapphire behavior. Singer was within reach, just on the nightstand.

“I need them to dream.”

Did I know so little of Dreamsouls and how they use their Nature? He unscrewed the first one, swirling the small amount of blood within.

“Please tell me you are not about to drink that.”

“It’s not so bad.”

I grimaced. “That’s what Sapphires do.”

Ansel rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, they got the idea from us and turned it into something despicable. I can only enter someone else's dreams if I have their blood. I spent all day getting a sample from each of the other Witchlords. I’m going to find out if any of them could be swayed to our side.”

I lay back on the pillow. He hadn’t been cleaning his sword earlier to be prim. He’d been collecting blood.

“You’re telling me you drank Charles the Imp’s blood?”

He gave me a vile glare, shaking his head as if I’d reminded him of a foul memory. “To find out if he was lying about you.”

“Where’s everyone else?”

Ansel downed the first vial, making an unpleasant face. “You can’t hear Amzee snoring down the hall? She went to bed a few hours ago. Beck and Riven are still out.”

I yawned, adjusting myself on the pillow. “Why are you here telling me all this?”

He’d gathered up the remaining vials, laying them out neatly on the dresser.

“I don’t trust anyone else on this side of the sea. It’s been a long day. I will need you to wake me if the dreams become too intense, which they shouldn’t.”

There were moments I didn’t even trust myself, yet here he was, trusting me. I felt a pinch of guilt, thinking about the effort it took for him to get all of this blood, and how he was so far from his family and friends.

“Okay.”

He finished laying his things on the dresser before pulling his tunic off, thick muscles rippling across his pale skin. I turned away, hiding my face as he got into bed.

I considered asking him to sleep on the floor, but that would be ridiculous. He’d already been inside of me, and furthermore, he was trying to dream for a reason. I didn’t want to make it more difficult.

As far as the option of me going to the floor, that was absolutely not happening. I’d spent enough nights without a bed that I knew to always be thankful for one.

A cloud wrapped around me, a cool breeze smoothing down my hair.

“Goodnight, Elora.”

“Sweet dreams,” I replied, eyes wide open.

I held the blanket to my chest like a lifeline, staring at the wall until Ansel’s breathing became heavy. When I was sure he was sleeping, I quietly turned over, watching him.

His angular, almond-shaped eyes were closed so gently—his skin smooth and relaxed like silk as he slept. His thick eyebrows even managed to appear softer as he softly snored.

The muscles of his broad shoulders protruded in his sleep. I took it all in—the powerful man before me appearing so vulnerable.

I tossed onto my back, eyes settling on the blur of the dark ceiling. It wasn’t long before Ansel swiftly woke up, shaking his head.

“The first will not be swayed,” he said, before downing the second crimson vial.

Sitting up, I braced my hands on the mattress. “Are you going into each of their dreams all in one night?”

“That’s the plan,” he confirmed, laying his head back down.