Page 14

LYSANDER

I ’m not counting the times he touches me. I’m not. It’s just that every time leaves me warm all over, like I’ve been dosed with an extra glass of riigan wine. Yet at the same time bright and crackling with energy. I feel alive.

After the competition, the weight of his arm across my shoulders lingers. The feeling seeps through my skin, slowly settling into deeper places.

That night I have no nightmares. I sleep soundly — better than I have since before the fire.

The next evening, Ezra smiles and taps my hand gently across the bar. I didn’t leave it there for him. I just happened to forget to remove it. The light touch ignites a spark, but not the same feeling as before.

Maybe it was an anomaly.

Later, he brings my second drink and teases me while his hand rests on my shoulder, heavy and firm. I suck in a breath as it sinks into my bones like a blanket of calm.

My sleep is peaceful again. It’s so unusual I wake unsettled, yet all day I hold my breath until I can go down to the club again. Except when I arrive, he isn’t there.

After two nights in a row without seeing him, my nightmares return.

I want to deny it. It’s only in my head — an association I’ve invented.

My traitorous body craves the barest brush of his fingers, so of course I’ve come to think of him as medicine.

It’s almost obscene how I behave to get it.

I linger. I stare. I leave my limbs in unnatural positions in case he decides to brush against one.

When he hands me a glass I reach for it quickly, gripping his fingers, and I pretend it was an accident.

But those brief moments are never enough to satisfy my restless mind.

I prefer when he slides into the booth across from me and his warm knee knocks into mine presumptuously. Or when we’re talking, and he clasps my forearm and squeezes.

Then I feel it all the way to my core, and I know I’ll sleep with perfect ease.

It’s preposterous, yet I can’t ignore the facts. The human banishes even my worst nightmares.

Getting more rest than ever should improve my mood. Instead I’m uneasy and irritable. I bounce between nights of unmatched rest and nights where I don’t sleep at all, except when I briefly, accidentally, drift into a nightmarish haze.

After one such horrible period, I stumble downstairs and am so relieved to see him that I go directly to the bar. Monsters part around me in aversion to my poisonous touch, but also possibly because of the dark circles under my eyes.

Ezra’s eyebrows go up when he spots me. “You okay?”

I blink, trying to gather my thoughts. “Am I?”

“You look exhausted.” He frowns. “You look like you should be upstairs sleeping, not having a drink.”

“Can’t sleep.” I manage a faint smile, but it only deepens his frown. “Can I have the drink anyway?”

“I should refuse service,” he mutters.

His words jolt me. “Please,” I demand gripping the edge of the bar. It’s a little too loud, and heads turn. The back of my neck heats. “The wine is a sleeping aide.”

Ezra’s eyebrow arches. “Do you normally have trouble sleeping?”

“Oh, yes,” I tell him, sleep-deprived laughter burbling up in my throat.

The finished drink swims in my vision. I reach for it, but to my dismay my palm doesn’t connect.

“Whoa there.” Ezra is moving away, and I whimper in displeasure. A moment later he’s here on the other side of the counter, an arm around my waist.

I shudder. Much better than the wine.

He curses. “Sweets—you’re so out of it. Let’s get you off your feet.”

He navigates me to a booth, although how he manages when my limbs are water, I’m not sure. I drift for a moment, and when I come to I’m clinging to him, his hard chest under my palm, his arm tucked across my wings.

“Please,” I mumble, not sure what I’m asking for.

Ezra deposits me in the booth and sets the drink in front of me. He shoots a look back at the bar and curses again. “I can’t stay. I’ll check on you when it’s calmed down, but drink this, okay?”

“Say you’ll come back.”

He swipes a hand over his face. His cheeks are dark pink in the low light, all the way down to his jaw. “I’ll come back, I promise.”

I slump into the booth and let my eyes drift shut.

I don’t know what wakes me — probably the normal chatter of the club. I jolt upright, my memory firing with perfect clarity. Humiliation bursts in my veins.

Oh, no .

I look around frantically. The club is fuller than before and I can’t see if he’s still behind the bar. I made such a fool of myself. He said he’d check on me, but I don’t want to face him.

I leave the riigan wine on the table and flee. I’m sure I’ll sleep like the dead tonight.

After that, the unbearable but obvious conclusion is that I need to break this ridiculous dependence on the human.

Unfortunately sleeplessness makes me terrible company, and it isn’t long before I’ve been rude to nearly everyone at The Sanctum in my quest to stay away from Ezra. I can’t seem to make myself stop. I watch as if from afar, horrified with my own behaviour.

“You need a hand?” Larch offers as I struggle with the newfangled human-style laundering machine. For some reason I’ve decided that keeping busy will distract me, but everything the staff normally does for me is infuriatingly complicated.

“I can do it,” I hiss, glaring at the knobs and dials.

“Alright.” Larch holds up his hands. “Just offering.”

Wrestling with the machine calms me enough to regret my snappishness.

When it’s finally humming away, I escape back to my room, not that it improves my mood much.

The four walls that used to comfort me now feel claustrophobic.

In a fit of frustration, I throw open my box of fabrics and dig through them, looking for something fiddly enough to hold my attention.

A beautiful white silk lace catches my eye. I haven’t made a costume for myself in a while — and when I do, they’re pretty but utilitarian, designed for Bear’s comfort. It would be nice to make something that just feels exciting.

The thrill of cutting, tacking, and folding chases away my exhaustion for a few hours, but by the time Orion knocks on the door, I’m starting to flag again. I rub my face with a sigh and get up to let him in.

“Dinner, Your Highness.” He gives me a faintly menacing grin and my stomach sinks. He slides past me and sets a plate on the dresser.

Both the title and his shallow bow afterward are pointed. They say stop acting like a spoiled princeling.

“Thank you,” I tell him, fighting not to squirm under his eye.

“Thank Larch,” he replies smoothly. “He seems to think you need buttering up.”

I wince. “If you could pass on my apologies —”

“Tell him yourself. There’s a staff meeting tonight after closing, if Your Highness would stoop to join us.”

I open my mouth to decline, but something stops me. “Will Ezra be there?”

“He’s part of the staff.” Orion shrugs. “He thinks he’s done something to offend you. I tried to tell him that’s just how your lot are. Cold and uptight. Except when it comes to the things that matter, like Lilian and the other wildlings. Right?”

I don’t let my dismay show on my face. “Of course.”

Orion is right. For their sake, I should be present. Surely one meeting in Ezra’s presence won’t set me back. I can be exactly as Orion said — aloof.

It doesn’t happen that way at all. Ezra’s face lights up as soon as he sees me and I thaw instantly.

“I saved you a spot.” He gestures me over.

The staff room is almost full, and the only space is next to him on the couch. Completely incapable of saying no to his face, I end up squished between his side and the arm of the couch, my whole body throbbing with warmth and satisfaction. He turns to me and his expression falters.

“Is everything okay?”

“I wasn’t upset with you,” I murmur, unable to keep it in. “I was just…"

I falter, not sure what to tell him. On the verge of begging you to never let go?

His hand lands just above my knee and he squeezes through the silky fabric of my pants. Like before, tingles spread from the spot.

“You don’t need to explain yourself. I just missed seeing your face.”

The tingles explode into butterflies that rush through me. I gulp the drink someone sets in front of me, needing something to do with my hands.

Ezra takes his hand away once the meeting starts, but my whole body still buzzes from his proximity. I can hardly pay attention to what’s being said. His heat seeps into me like the most potent riigan wine and I can’t keep my eyes from drifting shut.

Slowly, the chatter fades.

Gentle shaking wakes me. I startle upright at the touch. “Don’t —!”

“It’s okay.”

Of course. I slump in relief. It’s Ezra looming over me, not another monster.

Then embarrassment blooms hot. Did I fall asleep on him?

“I’m sorry.” I rub my eyes. “I’m just so tired.”

“Not a problem.” Ezra gives me a small, warm smile that makes me shiver. “Maybe we should get you to bed.”

The staff have scattered and pizza boxes sit open around the room. It’s long past time for me to leave. I’m not sure I caught a single word of the actual staff meeting — I must have fallen asleep immediately.

“‘M fine. I need to stay awake.”

In truth I’d probably sleep just fine, but I can’t shake the irrational fear that the nightmares will come back.

Ezra holds out a hand. “C’mon, sweets. You look exhausted again. Or still.”

I slot my hand into his and let him pull me up, and he urges me toward the stairs. It’s hard not to let him steer me. A deep heaviness sinks into me and I can’t stop leaning into him, like a flower seeking the sun. My head is too foggy to be awkward about it.

He pauses at the top of the staircase. “Which room is yours?”

“End of the hall,” I mumble.

I expect him to leave me, but instead he follows me to the door.

“Cozy,” he remarks, his gaze sweeping across my desk where the bare shape of my new costume is sketched out in lace, then back over the hangers full of costumes and the rumpled bed. My face warms.

“Sorry for the mess.”

“If you think this is messy, don’t come to my place.” He runs a hand over the costume on the desk and I shiver as if he’s made contact with my skin. “You make these? That’s amazing. Are you going to wear this one?”

“Bear doesn’t like when my costumes have frills, so maybe not.” I check the lace is properly tacked before lifting it to my body. “I think it will look good, though.”

He gives me a look and my stomach twists in a way I don’t understand.

“It’s gorgeous,” he says with his eyes fixed on my face.

I put the costume back down and straighten the fabric out to avoid looking at him. “Thank you.”

“Is this what’s keeping you up at night?”

“It’s not that.” I sit on the edge of the bed and get a clean sleeping set out of the nightstand. I reach for the hem of my shirt and Ezra coughs and turns his back.

“I can go,” he offers.

“Why?” I ask, bewildered.

He makes a strange noise. “Never mind.”

I change into the soft, silky sleeping shorts and shirt, sighing as I get between the sheets. Ezra turns, and his gaze softens.

“I guess I gotta tuck you in, huh?”

He pulls the blanket up, but when he starts to move away I panic. Everything I’ve been suppressing spills down my nerves, jolting me to life, and without thinking I grab his wrist. I can’t be alone. I can’t face another round of sleepless nights.

“Stay,” I whisper. “Please.”

He chokes. “Um. Like, in what way?”