Page 4 of The Call of Crimson (The Crimson & Shadows #2)

Elijah jolts awake. A protective snarl spills from his lips as he shoves Aurelius off me and onto the floor. His fist collides with Aurelius’ temple in the next breath.

“Elijah!” I shout, trying to stop the chaos.

The distraction is enough for Aurelius to retaliate. He rolls them over, landing a vicious punch to Elijah’s cheek.

Blood splatters my floor, the crunch of bone reverberating through the room. Hard pants and a pained groan fill the space as I scream at them both to stop. Both too lost to the adrenaline, they ignore my shouts of protest as they trade hits back and forth.

It continues for what feels like hours—but is really only moments—until the door bursts open.

An irate Ayden glares at us all. The look is not one I have ever seen him with, and it doesn’t suit his beautiful face.

“Perfect,” I groan. “Just what I need right now.”

It takes Ayden less than a second to assess the situation. With barely contained fury, he strides across the room and hauls Aurelius off Elijah, throwing him hard against the wall.

Aurelius hits with a grunt, blood smearing his lip as he sneers, “This doesn’t concern you, Prince.”

“I think you’ll find it does, Prince,” Ayden sneers right back.

Prince.

It hadn’t even registered that Ayden’s revelation about their familial relation meant that Aurelius is a prince.

I kneel, inspecting Elijah’s face for injuries. He’ll have a gnarly black eye—and his nose is definitely broken.

Grasping my hand, he smiles softly. “I’m fine, B. I’ve had worse—from you, if we’re being honest.” He winks.

“Breyla, darling,” Ayden drawls. “Do you care to explain what’s going on here?”

“Not particularly, darling,” I reply mockingly.

“Humor me.”

“Just know Aurelius got exactly what he deserved.”

“He punched me first,” Aurelius snarls, throwing his hands in the air.

“I said what I said,” I snap.

Ayden lets out an exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples.

Unable to let it lie, Elijah adds, “I woke up to Breyla pinned beneath Aurelius as he whispered something about tasting what was his. The shadows around his neck made it pretty clear she was distressed.”

Ayden’s nostrils flare.

“You’re not helping, Eli,” I sigh.

He shrugs and pushes himself off the floor.

“Elijah, thank you for elaborating,” Ayden says, voice tight. “Please return to your own chambers. I can take it from here.”

His eyes dart to mine, but he doesn’t move. “I’ll leave when Breyla dismisses me.”

“I’m fine, Elijah. You can leave. Thank you for staying with me.”

With a nod and kiss to my temple, he leaves me with Aurelius and Ayden.

The two males face each other, and for the first time, I really see them. The resemblance is undeniable. Same strong jaw line, same height, same dark eyes and hair—though Aurelius’ features are just a touch darker. Even their scents carry that same blend of spice and earth.

How had I not noticed it before?

“Aurelius,” Ayden says coldly, “let me be clear—Breyla is not yours. She is my fiancée . And I believe she’s made her feelings about you perfectly clear.”

Possessive fury sparks in Aurelius’ gaze. “Fiancée, or not, she will never be yours. She may be displeased with me now, but it will forever be my name on her lips.”

I glare at him, willing my eyes to burn him where he stands. “Well, right now the only thing my lips are saying is fuck off.”

Reluctantly, Aurelius turns and walks out—but not without pausing in the doorway a moment too long.

I turn my glare to Ayden. “That means you, too, asshole.”

In true Ayden fashion, he ignores me and asks, “Care to tell me why Elijah was sleeping in your bed?” His tone is curious but not angry

“How many times must I explain this?” I groan. “Elijah is like a brother to me. Our bond runs deep, but it’s never been romantic.”

“And do you often share a bed with him?”

I hesitate just a moment before answering honestly, “On occasion. Tonight, he was helping me sleep. His presence calms me. Something I’ve needed lately.” I try to explain without leaving myself exposed. Trust is not something I will give out easily again, and Ayden has not earned it.

His eyes roam over me—not sexually, but like he’s taking stock. Assessing damage. “Tell me why you need help sleeping,” he says. “What troubles you?”

“I…” the words catch in my throat. I contemplate how much I really want him to know.

“I can’t sleep because every time I close my eyes, I see her die. Over and over again. It’s all I see—and it torments me.”

“Let me help you.”

In my grief, I had forgotten about his Vizie Gift as a dream weaver.

My hackles rise, and I narrow my eyes at him. “Why should I trust you?”

“Did you know I was there when my father took his last breath?” Ayden asks in lieu of answering my question.

“I didn’t.”

I had been young when Ayden’s father was bested by my own on the battlefield. The details were never disclosed to me, but I hadn’t known Ayden was at that battle. “I didn’t realize you were present that day.”

“I wasn’t,” Ayden explains, a sad smile curling his lips. “He didn’t die on the battlefield.”

“Oh, I had assumed his death was…” My voice trails off, tongue stumbling over the right word for this situation.

“Quick?” Ayden offers, a dark brow arching.

I nod.

“His death took days as he slowly succumbed to not just blood loss, but infection.”

I want to give him an empathetic apology, but something tells me it will fall short coming from the daughter of the male responsible for his father’s death. As much as it pains me that he lost his father, I don’t regret it—I can’t. It meant that my own came home that day.

“Could a physician or healer not have saved him?” I wonder.

His shoulders drop. “There were none available to reach him in time.”

“Oh.”

His eyes go distant in quiet contemplation. “The point is,” he says, shaking himself out of the memory. “He arrived home the day before he died, delirious with pain. I never left his side, holding him until he took his last breath.”

“Ayden,” I breathe, unsure what to say.

He saves me from having to figure it out when he continues, “I watched him die—for nearly twenty-four hours straight—knowing there was nothing I could do to stop it. And for six months straight, I relived it every night in my dreams.”

“Six months?” I ask, utter disbelief and horror tinging my words.

He nods solemnly. “The only difference between you and me, love?” He laughs, the sound a dry, humorless thing that sends goosebumps down my spine. “I didn’t have anyone to save me from my nightmares. Dream weavers can’t alter their own dreams.”

“What a cruel trick the gods have played on you.”

“I blame Marynx,” he chuckles.

“The god of chaos?”

He shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Just seems like something chaos would delight in. Give someone the Gift of meddling or easing dreams, only to balance it by not allowing them to meddle in their own.

“Are you sure you don’t mean Saelem? It seems way more in line with something the god of mischief would enjoy.”

“Nah, I doubt it. Saelem may be a trickster, but he’s not intentionally cruel.”

“I think all the gods have a cruelty to them—even if it’s small,” I muse.

“Perhaps you’re right, but I digress,” he says, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. “I know you don’t believe me, but I am not your villain, Breyla. I don’t wish to see you in pain.”

“Pain is all I know right now.” The words spill out before I can stop them.

“Then allow me to help,” he pleads again, “I would have given anything to make the dreams stop after my father died. Please trust I’m just trying to spare you from that pain.”

After a long moment, my shoulders sag. I nod.

Taking me by the hand, he leads me back to bed. I crawl in and stare up at him, waiting to feel the gentle caress of his Gift. He leans down and presses a kiss to my temple. The subtle touch of his magic caresses my mind, and I lower my mental shields to let it in.

“Was that completely necessary?”

“The kiss?” He smirks and glances toward the door. “Not even a little. But Aurelius is still watching from the hall. And I do love pissing him off.”

“Fucking territorial male bullshit,” I groan as something crashes against the other side of my wall in Aurelius’ room.

“Good night, Breyla,” he says with a chuckle, and slips out.

With the touch of his magic, it takes only moments for sleep to claim me again.