Linus… the poison… all that blood…
“Hey.Breathe.” Two large hands flex against the bare, sweat-slicked skin of my biceps, hard enough to jolt me fully awake. “Just breathe, Emilia.”
My breaths are coming so fast, I feel dizzy. Even after I snap out of the dream, disorientation lingers like a haze over my brain. Thoughts spin sluggishly, thick as syrup.
“Th- th- the champagne,” I gasp out, still hyperventilating. “It was— it was—”
“Listen to me — you’re safe. You’re fine. You’re in your bed. No one can get to you, Emilia. Do you hear me?No one will hurt you again.”
The voice is gruff but oh so familiar. I focus on its deep timbre and it instantly calms me, offering safe refuge from the potent terror of my own mind. When his hands tighten once more, I manage to crack open my eyelids and focus on him. As soon as I do, I’m trapped in a tractor-beam blue gaze.
My stomach jolts.
“Another nightmare,” Carter murmurs lowly, staring at me in the darkness. He’s so close I can make out the tiny scar that bisects his eyebrow; the bands of deeper blue that ring each of his irises, the faint stubble shadowing his jawline at this late hour. His hair is sleep-tousled, his chest bare, as though he leapt from bed after an abrupt awakening.
He must’ve heard me screaming through the wall.
Again.
It’s been a month since the night of the coronation, when a poison-laced champagne flute nearly killed my father. Sonearly, in fact, I was certain he was dead as the King’s Guard rushed him to the nearest hospital. Certain I’d be left to mourn the loss of yet another parent… only this time, I’d have a crown on my head and a country to rule.
Talk about multitasking.
Each day, I thank my lucky stars that the doctors were able to reverse the paralytic effects of the poison. Impossible as it seems, Linus is alive. Weaker and frailer than before, to be sure… but miraculously, unquestioninglyalive.
I just wish my subconscious would remember that small fact. As soon as my eyes slip closed at night, I’m back on that coronation platform: blood welling in my palms, glass slicing my gorgeous ballgown, chaos erupting as the king falls to the ground.
“You’re okay,” Carter assures again. “It was just a dream.”
Just a dream.
Just a dream.
Just a dream.
Just… four long weeks of waking sweat-drenched and screaming. I thought things would get better after enough time had passed, after Linus was released from the hospital and things returned to normal at the castle, but they haven’t. If anything, they’re worse than ever.
Bad enough to bring a man who absolutely hates me running to help…
As my breathing slows and awareness returns, I’m all too conscious of Carter’s presence beside me on the bed. Of the large, callused hands curled around my biceps. Of the narrow space separating our faces in the darkness. Of the smell of his skin — soap and bourbon and spice — washing over me like a drug.
I suck in a sharp breath.
This is the closest we’ve been in weeks. Since that awful, wonderful night in the greenhouse, when we crossed an unspeakable line. Since we—
No.
I don’t allow myself to think about the things we did, the things we said. And I definitely don’t allow myself to think about the things we leftunsaid. If I did, I’d go crazy. No good ever comes of craving things you can never have again.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He’s silent for a moment, just staring at me. I can feel each stroke of his gaze against my skin like a physical caress and,sweet christ, the need to lean into his chest, to absorb his warmth is so strong I nearly buckle under the pressure.
Take me in your arms and hold my tattered soul together,I want to beg.Even if it’s only for a moment.
As though he’s heard the plea aloud, Carter’s fingertips dig into my arms. There’s an edge of violence in his grip; I’m not sure whether he wants to shake me or crush me to his chest. Hell, I doubt even he knows for sure. He’s looking at me like I’m half-poison, half-cure. Equal parts salvation and devastation.
Back at you, stepbrother.