Page 143 of Wasted Grace

I gasp as the remnants of the nightmare linger.

My vision half-engulfed with images of Advik’s life leaving him. The blankness of his stare—lifeless—is still a pressing weight on my chest.

I vaguely realize that my one hand is under my pillow. The alertness of my action makes my head snap in the direction of my door.

He’shere. Leaning against the open door frame. Watching me so inquisitively that my heart pounds in my chest too loud. His lips twitch—maybe he canhearit.

“Nightmare?” Advik says softly.

“I guess,” I breathe out. But I don’t move.

He pushes off the frame casually. “I guess it was because I’ll be walking into the lion’s den tomorrow.Endangeringmyself?”

My jaw aches with the constant clenching. I hate how he knows the triggers now. This isn’t the first time I’ve found him lingering outside my room. But he’s usuallyoutside—not cross-armed against my door. His biceps bulging through his t-shirt.

“Probably,” I reply nonchalantly.

“So...” He walks over to the end of my bed, his gaze so intense that my breathing picks up yet again. The nightmare forgotten in the depth of his beautiful brown eyes. “Where’s my kiss?”

“Seriously?” I say, deadpan. “You want a kiss because—”

“I’m endangering myself.” He shrugs, smirking. “And that’s the bargain, isn’t it?”

I frown. “Are you... on drugs?”

He chuckles lightly as he takes an unwelcoming seat on my bed, near my thighs. His eyes soften as he sobers. “Was it a bad one?”

I’m frozen in my bed, unable to breathe through the panic of reality—not the stupid nightmare. I blink rapidly to dispel the vision of urging him to not just sit there—but climb into bed with me. Cage me with his body. I picture myself yanking him closer by his collar. That’sunhealthy.

He notices the change because I watch his eyes heat up. “I guess you’re doing okay. It’s not like the other times I’ve had to...holdyou.”

“You... you hold me?”

He nods slowly, eyes slightly pained as if he’s recalling a memory I was a part of but can’t remember.

“Your thrashing is not frequent. But I do hold you when it happens. And I leave before you...” He smirks weakly as he nods at my hand that’s still clutching the dagger under the pillow. “Stab me to death.”

“Oh.” My chest heaves at the old memory of him holding me through my first night terror here. How I kicked him out.

He sighs, shifting enough to make me realize he’s leaving again. Andfor the life of me, I can’t understand why I don’t want him to. He doesn’t look defeated, or annoyed. If anything, he lookscontent. As if his only goal to check in with me was to find out if I wasokay.

It doesn’t help that I’m absolutely fine—but my heart is racing with loss. He is, in fact, risking his life tomorrow. And if anything does happen—this is our last night, isn’t it? Whetherhedies, orIdie protecting him.

“I owe you a kiss,” I blurt out without having my brain properly articulate my thoughts.

Embarrassment washes over me when I watch his face morph into the most smug expression I’ve ever seen.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t even care to give me a prelude to his next move. A blink—and he’s over me.

My thighs locked between his, but it’s not oppressive. It’s...shielding. His head drops on mine, one hand grazing my waist almost possessively.

“I’m aware...” he whispers, “that you can easily end this. But I hope you don’t, baby.”

His hand holds my elbow as his lips descend on mine in a hungry, aching kiss. I open up so eagerly—my tongue dancing with his—that I don’t notice his hand slowly sliding on my forearm. Enticingly reaching my hand that clutches the dagger.

I’m so lost—my hand clutching his hair—that I also don’t notice his other hand slipping under my neck, gripping us closer. His chest warm against mine.

The moment his searching hand reaches my fisted one—clutching the weapon—he coaxes it loose. And Icomply. Enough that when his lips become harsher on mine—hungrierthan ever before—my grip gives away. He absently chucks the knife out of my hand and throws it somewhere on the floor. The clattering noise almost muted.