Page 33 of Cursed Dreams (Shadow and Dreams #1)

T halia woke with a gasp, her hand flying to her chest, breath shallow and ragged. A strange cold burning sensation ached there.

The temple was dim now, the braziers burned low to soft embers, casting long shadows across the stone walls. It was empty, hollow and quiet, a reflection of how she felt, as though the stillness around her had simply mirrored the emptiness settling inside her chest.

“No…” she whispered, her voice cracking, hands trembling as they fisted in her lap. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if doing so might draw her back into the dream.

The pain of the separation hit her like a blow. She felt it in her bones, in the hollow ache behind her ribs. He’d been about to tell her how to save him. How she could help. Frustration bubbled it’s way to the surface. “Damn it,” she hissed under her breath, pressing her palms to her eyes.

“What in the gods’ names are you doing in here at this hour?”

Thalia jumped, nearly falling off the bench.

The voice was low, rough, and sharp with accusation, but she knew who it belonged to.

She turned sharply, flushing with surprise and embarrassment as she met his silver-eyed gaze. Vaelith stood in the arched doorway, his frame half-shrouded in the flickering light, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His jaw was clenched, and tension rolled off him in waves.

“I—” she started, then quickly gathered herself, eyes narrowing. “I fell asleep. Visiting the temple. Not that it’s any of your business.”

His stare darkened. “If your going to lie to me, Little healer at least makes it convincing.”

She stood, brushing down the front of her robes and turning her back on him. “Why are you even here?” she snapped. “What do you want?”

“I was enjoying a quiet drink at a tavern,” Vaelith said tightly, “when your very drunk friend Nyla stormed in, pointed at me like some jilted lover, and accused me of ‘breaking Thalia’s spirit and making her all moody and miserable.’”

Thalia gaped. “She what?”

“She shouted it,” he added dryly. “In front of the entire place.”

Thalia’s face burned. Nyla thinks this is about Vaelith? That he’s the reason I’ve been distracted and distant?

A hot wave of mortification rolled over her.

Vaelith threw up a hand in exasperation. “So I came to find you. Because apparently, I’m some kind of heartless bastard who’s shattered your soul. And what do I find?”

He gestured sharply toward the empty temple. “You. Sitting here like some pious priestess taking vows.”

She turned on him, eyes blazing. “I wasn’t, ! You have no idea what I was doing. ”

“Oh, forgive me,” he snapped, voice laced with sarcasm. “You were praying, were you? Seeking divine clarity about which potion to stir next?”

Her fists clenched at her sides. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m not stupid, Thalia.” His eyes narrowed. “You’ve been walking around like your heart's been carved out of you. And now you're here, playing acolyte at midnight in the dark, and I’m supposed to believe it’s nothing?”

She stepped forward, her voice sharp. “You don’t get to ask questions. You don’t get to assume. I am none of your concern.”

His eyes flared. “Why the hell do you look at me like I’m the villain in your story?”

“Because you are! Always so cold, so distant, like you're playing a game I never agreed to be part of!”

Vaelith’s jaw tightened. “Cold? That’s what you think?” He shook his head, eyes flashing. “I’ve been right here, offering help, offering answers, but you never wanted them. You just wanted to hate me.”

He stepped closer, his voice low but unyielding. “This isn’t a game, Thalia.”

His eyes locked onto hers, bright with something raw and unguarded. “I wasn’t cold when I touched you. I was burning. Every time you’re near me, it takes everything I have to keep control. You’re not just on my mind. You never leave it. Morning, night, in every breath between.”

His voice broke slightly, not with weakness but with weight. “I’ve been trying, in every way I know how, to be there for you, to protect you, to help you, but you don’t see it. You never see it. You shut me out like I’m the enemy when all I’ve done is want you.”

He took one more step, close enough that she could feel the heat of him. “So no, I wasn’t cold. I was holding myself back, or you. And if you think I’m not always thinking about you, aching for you... then you’ve never been paying attention.”

He paused, gaze fixed on hers. “But go ahead. Pretend I’m imagining things. Pretend you haven’t been thinking about me too.”

“I haven’t!” she snapped, her voice shaking.

It wasn’t exactly a lie.

Since Caelum, she’d barely spared a thought for Vaelith. The emotions Vaelith stirred in her felt different now, more confusing, clouded, nothing compared to how she felt when Caelum looked at her.

But even still, something in her chest twisted at the way Vaelith looked at her now, like she’d wounded him. Like he hadn’t expected her to say it.

“So just, go,” she added, breathless. “Leave me alone.”

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with the heat of all the things they weren’t saying, the weight of truths neither of them could bring themselves to speak, yet, neither of them turned away.

Vaelith’s jaw flexed, his silver eyes burning. He took one slow step toward her, then another, and another, closing the distance between them until she could feel the heat radiating off him.

“If only I could,” he murmured, voice low and edged with something rougher than anger.

Before she could blink, his hand wrapped around her arm, not painfully, but firmly, like he needed to anchor himself.

“I wish I could just walk away from this,” he growled, “from you.”

Thalia's breath hitched in her throat. “Then do it,” she snapped, trying to pull her arm free. “Go. Walk away!”

His grip didn’t budge.

“You have no idea what you're doing,” he said sharply. “No idea what you’re tangled in, Thalia. There are things about my life, about me, that you will never understand.”

She frowned, heart pounding. “Then tell me! Stop talking in riddles like some dark, brooding puzzle box and explain it!”

Vaelith’s face twisted, pain, frustration, desire all flickering across his usually unreadable expression.

“If I were a lesser man,” he said, his voice lowering to a growl, “I’d throw you over my shoulder right now and march you away from this godforsaken world before it breaks you.”

Thalia froze. Her heart thudded violently in her chest, torn between a hundred emotions at once, confusion, fury, and something dangerously close to wanting.

“What does that even mean?” she asked, blinking up at him, breathless. “Why are you like this?”

“You’re no shrinking flower,” he said through clenched teeth. “So, stop acting like one. You have power, Thalia. A mind sharper than most I’ve met in centuries. Wake up and use it. Figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” she snapped. “You keep throwing cryptic warnings and then acting like I should magically know what’s going on, like I’m supposed to piece together the mystery of you, when all I get are broody stares and threats of being carted off like a sack of potatoes!”

She threw her hands up in frustration, her voice rising with every word. “You’re an arrogant, self-important, intolerable, cryptic bastard!”

His gaze dropped to her lips.

Dangerously.

Hungrily.

“Careful,” he said, voice suddenly low, warning, laced with heat. “You keep spouting filthy little insults like that, and you’ll find yourself in a position you’ll either regret…”

His eyes lifted to meet hers again, silver igniting with something feral and star-hot.

“Or never stop thinking about.”

Thalia’s lips parted, whether to argue, swear again, or gasp, she wasn’t sure.

She couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t look away from the storm unravelling in his eyes.

Her confusion twisted with something headier. Something that made her skin hum and her thoughts scatter.

Her blood roared in her ears.

Vaelith’s breathing was uneven now, ragged, strained like he was trying to hold something back that refused to stay buried.

His eyes…

Thalia froze.

They weren’t silver anymore.

Molten gold.

They blazed like liquid fire, catching every flicker of torchlight, and suddenly she knew, knew, she hadn’t imagined it the night in the alley.

It hadn’t been the faerie wine.

Staring up at him, remembering the way his body had felt pressed against hers in that shadowy corridor, the memory crashed over her like a wave.

The scrape of stone against her back. The heat of his mouth.

The way he’d whispered her name like it was a curse and a prayer all at once.

Like a damn breaking suddenly all she could think of was him, need flooded her, she wanted him she couldn’t deny it.

Vaelith cursed low under his breath.

Suddenly shadows swallowed them. The temple vanished.

She gasped, air snatched from her lungs as the world shifted, magic curling cold and sharp around her skin before it gave way to warmth and scent and silence.

They reappeared in a room she didn’t recognize, dimly lit, opulent and sparse, with dark stone walls and a fire crackling in a hearth across the room. She barely had time to register it before her back hit the wall and Vaelith was on her.

His mouth crashed against hers with raw, unrelenting hunger, his hands anchoring her hips to the wall, his body a solid force pressing into her like he was trying to burn the shape of them into one.

Her mind emptied.

Words shattered into pieces.

She kissed him back like she had no choice—like her body had remembered something her soul had never forgotten.

When he pulled away, barely, his breath ghosted over her mouth. “All I do is think about you,” he growled.

Her chest heaved.

“Your eyes, your laugh… your damn smile,” he said, like it pained him to confess it. “Your body. The way you shattered over me—”

Her legs trembled.

“—your infuriating, sharp little mouth.” His voice dipped lower, hoarser. “And all the things I want to do to that mouth.”