Page 35 of Of Nightmares & Fire (Elusive Umbra #1)

Chapter twenty-eight

Astraea

I stand in the doorway to the bathing chamber, looking down at the man I just witnessed use magick unlike any I have ever heard of. I am frozen in shock. Kyros is crouched down next to the bath, where I see he has added oils and petals and filled the tub nearing the edge.

“You need to calm down.” He says finally, after what feels like an eternity of us just staring at one another. We both have questions; that much is clear.

“And what about you?” I ask, shakily.

“I am calm.”

“You are hurt and bleeding. I—I saw everything.” Another stretch of silence fills the space between us as he stands and walks to stand in front of me. His size is imposing, but nothing ever even touches the intensity of his eyes.

“And? What are we to do now, Shula?” I can feel the heat radiating from his body with how close he stands, and all thoughts leave me as I see his blood clouding the fabric of the gray tunic he wears.

Before I lose my gall, I toss the blanket to my vanity chair, revealing my sleep dress beneath.

His eyes track my silhouette, and I ignore the heat I see entering his gaze as I reach for the jar of healing balm on the tabletop.

“Take your shirt off.” I say without turning to face him as I snag the jar.

“And here I thought I was going to be the one getting you naked.” He chuckles, and the sound is so foreign that it causes me to pause.

I stop, half way done removing the lid to the balm, and I gawk at him.

There were no questions about my wanting his shirt removed; he just obliged.

I swallow as I take in the sight of him.

I’ve seen him without a shirt from afar and in the Colosseum, but then I was being careful not to let my eyes wander.

I was being watched by my father and hundreds, if not thousands, of people.

Right now, though? In the privacy of my own bathing chamber, I take my fill.

His body is like a dark god. Crafted of sin and shadows. The tattoos that swirl along his arms, chest, and torso reach over his impressive shoulders and toward his back. And the ones on his stomach dip low beneath the line of his trousers .

“My eyes are up here, Shula.” He whispers as his fingers lift my chin to meet his onyx stare. I cough, looking away from him as embarrassment heats my entire body.

“It seems we both have some secrets, but I think I have one that will help you.” I turn back around, showing him the jar.

“May I?” He says nothing after looking at it but narrows his eyes before responding only with a nod.

I hesitantly step around him, and I grab one of the bathing towels from beside the bath.

“Sit.” I say, gesturing to the edge of the alcove bathtub. He slowly does as I say and watches me as I dip the cloth into the water. Before I touch it to his skin, I pause, wanting to see his face, but at the same time, I’m also terrified of the truths I might find there.

“You don’t have to do this.” He breaks the silence and snaps my reluctant eyes to his. There is kindness I didn’t expect, and just like last night, a conflict fights for attention on his features.

“It's my fault you’re hurt. It was my nightmare.” I don’t even know what I’m saying.

What is he even doing here? If those angry claws had gotten me like they did him, I likely would have been dead.

I don’t have magick to fight like he did.

I look at him through my lashes. “This might hurt a little.” I say softly before I press the rag to the wound. He barely flinches.

“Does this happen often?” His eyes track every movement I make with my hands but quickly return to my face between each. The small space feels even smaller with his attention on me like this. I don’t think my voice is going to work without breaking, so instead I nod .

He is silent longer than it takes for me to ensure the wound is clean and even so after applying the balm.

I’ve never actually tended to anyone else’s wounds.

I’d only ever felt Colette doing my back or watched as she did any markings that were made to my arms, and never with a magickal balm, only the cleansing solutions.

This can't be that different, can it? He doesn’t react to its warming or the magick that it's surely imbued with, only watches me.

“Why do you have such a balm?” He finally asks. The question I knew was coming, and as much as I don’t want to lie, I also can't face what his reaction might be knowing how weak I am, so I settle on a half-truth.

“It was brought to the castle for Colette.”

“Your chambermaid?” He asks, trying to catch my gaze, but I cannot look at him.

Not with my father’s words bouncing through my head.

He must feel the same. A man in such a position that he’s in, but the longer I think about it, the more my frustration begins to peek through.

As though by looking this closely he can see into the fine cracks in my surface and is trying to whittle away at them, one gaze at a time.

I think about all the interactions I saw of him, with his men, with Mavros and Zinya…

He might be an asshole, but I genuinely sense that he cares about people too.

Something I can’t say at all about my father.

I am his daughter, and he whips me and allows his men to abuse me too. My eyes finally meet Kyros’.

“My friend.” I tell him, lifting my chin, ready for him to try to cut me down .

“You are a very kind friend to keep such a thing for her in a place like this. When it could mean your life being forfeited just by possession of it.” He tilts his head, surveying my response. I can't help the way my mouth pops open in shock. I can't say anything else.

“Have you ever needed to use this?” He’s phishing. I can tell by the glint of curiosity I see in his eyes, and even though I have revealed truths to him, I’m not ready to reveal those truths.

“You prepared a bath?” I deflect his question, and if he notices, he doesn’t say. He stands, stepping away from the edge of the tub, which brings him much closer to me after setting the balm down next to the basin of water in front of the mirror.

“It’s for you. I thought it would help you calm down after that experience.” My breath catches in my throat, and I flinch just enough that the hand that he had brought up to my cheek pauses before he touches me. My eyes close without thought, tears gathering behind my lashes.

Seconds pass where I know he’s watching me, but I’m frozen in place with fear. I don’t know if it is the lingering effect of the nightmare or the fact that I was assaulted so recently in this very space, but I couldn’t have his touch here. I couldn’t accept what he was possibly offering.

“I’ll be right outside. I'm not leaving you alone.” He whispers, and I nod without opening my eyes.

I don’t see him leave the bathing chamber, but I feel his powerful presence dissipate.

The warmth from where his hand hovered just above my skin— gone.

As much as I wanted his touch, I’m also terrified of these feelings he provokes in me.

I'm terrified that he will see my scars, the flaws that are proof of my weaknesses; proof that I am just as unworthy of his attention as I am of the crown on my head.

With a heavy sigh, I undress and sink into the bath.

The lingering panic from the nightmare is still present, but not like it usually is, and the even more bizarre part is the pounding in my head, or lack thereof.

I keep my eyes open as I replay the events of the night and wake up with my room flooded with the most magnificently beautiful magick I couldn’t even conjure up in my dreams. I never even read of such magick.

If I thought Kyros’ eyes were like the glittering black stone that the blades of Tsalalerian Steel were made of, they have nothing on the shadows that bled from his skin.

I curse under my breath as I step from the bath, realizing the only clothes I have in here are those drenched with sweat from the nightmare and left lying crumpled on the floor.

Wrapping the bath towel that hangs on the hook around my body, I look at myself in the mirror.

My hair is dripping, my cheeks are flushed, and dark circles that seem to always shadow under my eyes these days are ever present.

I was calm for a second, but even thinking about walking from this room, knowing that Kyros is on the other side, makes my heart rate spike.

The room is dark when I step into it. Only the slight glow from the lantern I left in the bathing chamber and the moon's light illuminating the space.

I expected to see Kyros sitting in one of the seating options in the room, but where I found him was least expected.

His feet are planted on the floor, but he is laying on his back in the center of my bed.

I can see his chest rising and falling at a slow, even pace.

The telltale sign of someone being fast asleep. My heart swells at the sight of him.

I look around, still wary of the monsters that are after me when I sleep, becoming much more real entities.

Turning back and grabbing the lantern, I bring it to the vanity and turn the knob on the side to its lowest flame.

The armoire door creaks when I open it, earning a wince from me.

Kyros must have used a lot of energy expelling his magick and likely saving me from great pain, just like last time.

I owe him some restful sleep if nothing else.

I pull a dark-colored nightdress from the interior drawer and duck behind my dressing screen in the corner of the room and slip the lightweight fabric over my head. I check the lock on my door, extinguish the flame on the lantern, and pad over to the bed where Kyros rests.

This may be one of the biggest mistakes of my life, but something is telling me it won't be the last, and for that I am grateful. Bending down, I slowly unlace Kyros’ boots.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t budge, even when I struggle a bit to pull his boots from his feet and lift his heavy legs up onto the bed.

When I finally finish getting him into what looks like a mostly restful position on my bed, I am panting and have broken a bit of a sweat again.

Looking down at the giant man sleeping in my bed, I laugh lightly at what I just did and everything that has come to light tonight, feeling a bit of the nervous energy return.

I don’t see how this can't change things between us.

We have each other's secrets, both of which could mean our deaths in a kingdom like Eathian under the rule of its vicious king—my father.

I stand there staring for what could be a long, embarrassing amount of time before Kyros stirs for the first time.

“Lay down and sleep, Shula. We will face what comes next in the morning.” His grunting sentence comes out muffled as I attempt to decipher his words with a frown. Understanding hits when he pulls the blankets back, indicating for me to get into the bed—with him.

“I will sleep on the lounge.” I say, turning away toward it, but as I do, his hand scorches where it wraps lightly around my wrist, halting my retreat.

“Now, Shula. Lay. Down.” Even though his words are demanding, his grip is loose, and while I stand there hesitating, his thumb scores lines on the inside of my wrist and sends that same heat elsewhere through my body.

Swallowing hard, I nod, and he drops my wrist as I move to the other side of the bed and get under the covers.

I lay as stiff as a sword on my back, but he has turned to lay on his side. I feel when he opens his eyes and they train on the side of my face.

“You will need to relax if you ever intend to sleep,” he whispers, and the sound of his voice and the proximity of which he lays next to me cause my heart to take up a furious rhythm as it pounds like a drum in my chest.

“I don’t think sleep is a good idea after everything.” I say just as quietly.

“Are you afraid of the nightmare returning? ”

How do I tell him I'm afraid of everything? I’m afraid of the future, the past, the present, and everything that lies between. I fear for the kingdom, its people, and what it will mean if I allow him any further under my skin.

“I am always afraid of what the future holds.” I finally admit.

“That’s not an answer I would expect to come from the princess of one of the most powerful kingdoms.” He says as he too rolls to lay on his back.

“Where I come from, we have something that can help with warding off those who seek us in the shadows of sleep.” Both of our hands lay at our sides, and as I close my eyes, I feel his little finger brush mine.

I don’t move. “I won’t let you be hurt anymore.

Sleep, Shula. Dream of a future you do not fear.

” And with those words dancing through my mind, I drift into the abyss of sleep.