34. A FITFUL SLEEP

A FITFUL SLEEP

I bolted upright, sweaty, heart thundering, as a nightmare tore me from sleep. There had been so much blood in my dream, pools of it, against the stark snow. I gasped, clutching my pajama top in my fist. For a dozen heartbeats, the room was unfamiliar, and panic was beginning to set in when it all clicked into place. The cabin. We were in the cabin. And it was barely dawn, from the looks of the cold gray light seeping in around the curtains. How did I get into this bed? The last thing I remembered was sitting on the couch, fussing over Nadia. Then a soothing voice cooing into my ear, "let's get you to bed, Darling," and then strong male arms holding the weight of my aching back and legs. Andras must have carried me to bed after I passed out on the couch.

I lay down, pulling the blankets up tight around my chin as I curled into the fetal position, noticing all of the muscles that were generally unused, now left aching from the fight.

Details from the night before came pouring in. After we brought Nadia in from the snow, Andras had set her down on a blanket by the fire with painful gentleness. He'd made some tea, then presented me with a pretty rose-embossed mug, his hand still crusted in dried blood and gore. His blue eyes were weary and as tumultuous as a midnight sea. When I finished my tea, he'd led me to a hot bath and left me alone, a fresh towel and my clean pajamas waiting for me on the bed when I stepped out a half-hour later. He must have gone to shower while I'd bathed, because when I found him again in the living room, lounging in the chair closest to the fire, his hands and hair were no longer rust-tinted or caked in mud, and he'd changed into black joggers and a gray thermal shirt that showed off his muscled body. I'd thanked him for drawing my bath and laying out my pajamas, then settled on the couch across from him. He crossed and uncrossed his legs at the knee, smiling warmly at me, but something dark shaded his eyes, something I couldn't pin down.

"Are you alright?" I asked, instantly regretting it. Of course he wasn't alright. I no longer loved Steven, and I would be happy to never see him again, but I'd still feel something if I had to decapitate him–even if it were wholly justified, even if he were trying to kill me–because at one time I had loved him.

"No," Andras admitted.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

His lips pulled up at the corners, but his eyes were elsewhere.

"Can I ask you something?" I ventured

"Anything."

"When you pulled him into your mind…what did you show him?"

A few heartbeats passed, and I was about to tell him that he didn't have to share, to just forget about it, when he cleared his throat.

"A tomb," he said softly.

My brows furrowed.

"Of cement," he added, eyes flicking to mine.

"That's…"

"Monstrous."

"I was going to say…metal."

He huffed a laugh. Slowly, I edged off of the couch and went to him. Without saying a word, I bent down to kiss him gently on the cheek, wrapped my arms around his shoulders, and breathed in the scent of him, warm woods, and a metallic something else.

"I'm sorry you had to..." I told him, trailing off.

He placed his thumb gently on my chin to guide my face to his so he could look me in the eyes while he sweetly stroked my cheek.

"I'm not sorry about him. But I am sorry for you. I am sorry that you were threatened, and scared, and hurt, and worried for your children. I am truly so sorry."

A small smile was all that I could offer in the moment to accept his apology. My body was so tired. And I didn't blame him, but I didn't have the energy to say that.

Andras took my hand and gently pulled me into his lap, where he held me tight, and we sat in silence, watching Nadia, still as death, for what felt like hours. When I wrung my hands for the two-hundredth time, Andras reassured me that she'd wake up, that broken bones took a few hours to heal for their kind and she just needed rest and time. My cheek on his chest, and my legs tucked in tight, I must have fallen asleep on him. And he must have put me to bed.

Now, the morning after, I was a mess. Images and conversations from last night flooded me as I lay in that bedroom in the dark. My clothes were still damp from the nightmare that had jolted me awake, the one with the blood, the snow, and the…bodies. The shock had worn off, and my thoughts were racing. Images of bloodied maws and wild eyes as the halflings charged. The sound of bone breaking. Andras, the warrior, cutting down his enemies with brutal efficiency. Andras, my lover, stopping mid-fight to literally lick my wounds.

I struggled to reconcile the day before with my real life. I'd spent my night shooting and stabbing creatures, and now I would return, although I didn't know how or in what capacity, to being a mother, to flipping pancakes and answering emails from the damned PTA. When I returned to Denver, I would continue on as a single mother.

I felt confident in that decision, but still mourned the years lost, the time spent feeling so unlovable. It pained me to think about the fact that maybe, for all of these years, I'd missed out on a partner as kind and loving as Andras. I knew it didn't benefit anyone to rummage in the past, but still, it was damn hard not to. Steven hadn't been able to offer basic, common decency for whatever reason. I must not have felt like I deserved it because if I did…maybe…maybe I wouldn't have allowed it to go on for so long. Regret and rage swept through me, followed by grief. I'd lost myself, and in the process of finding myself, I'd met someone who liked me for me, but I couldn't have him. I wouldn't.

Because I had my girls, and my girls were my heart, and the stars, and the moon. As much as I'd love to spend my life with a kind, brave man, who would stay eternally gorgeous, I couldn't. Not only because I'd grow old and die while he lived on for a dozen more lifetimes, but because it was too damn dangerous. Everything with Callum was proof of that. That centuries-old garbage person had been as far as the threshold of my home, had scented my family and peered into our world. He was that close to being able to harm my kids. I shuddered, and my stomach roiled. Never again.

Pushing back the heavy drapes around the window, I saw hot pink sunlight peeking over a distant mountain through clouds, evergreens, and pines. New snow had fallen, covering the dead. The semi-turned halflings, blind with bloodlust, victims of an ancient grudge would rest there forever. The sun crept higher, a silver light spreading over the clearing, and wherever the light made contact with the ground, ash floated up and away on a phantom wind.

Murmuring down the hall drew my attention from the solar cremation outside, but my lazy human ears couldn't pick up what was being said, so I padded towards the door where I could faintly make out Andras's voice.

"She's never going to talk to me again once we get back," he said, barely above a whisper.

"Danny doesn't hate you, love," Nadia said, her voice gentle.

Relief washed over me upon hearing her. She'd finally woken up, and from the sound of it, she'd made a full recovery.

"I could have gotten her killed. Her family…" Andras went on.

"Yes, you could have. But you didn't. Andras, you couldn't have prevented this. You're a vampire, not a god, not a weaver of destiny. I know you think highly of yourself but this was out of your powe–don't you roll your eyes at me! We're going to have to tell her, to explain to her what happened out there. What she did, and what she is…I do think you two are fated, and more–that she's fated for something big—"

"Could we please talk about this later?" Andras asked, hushed and hurried.

I felt ridiculous, with my ear pressed against the door, and hoped that I'd misheard them or misunderstood. Fated? Fated for what ? I opened the door quietly enough, hoping to get a little closer and hear them better, but the house went silent as soon as I stepped into the hallway. I rolled my eyes. Vampire hearing. Of course.

Nadia and Andras were in the kitchen, seated at the little table by the windows, just like the first morning, drinking coffee out of ceramic mugs. They both rested their crossed arms on the table in front of them, leaning in so they could talk about me and whether or not I was something or another. A small part of me danced with delight to learn that he cared whether or not I would talk to him again, whether or not I was upset with him. But then it hardly mattered, because after this…he was right: we couldn't talk anymore.

"Good morning," I said, leaning against the doorway. "I'm glad you're okay, Nadia."

She grinned, performing an airy gesture as if to say of course I am .

"Terribly achy, but otherwise completely fine. Andras told me that you watched over me most of the night. Thank you."

I nodded.

Andras surveyed me carefully, his dark blue eyes crawling down my body, scanning for something, searching. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself.

A pause.

"Good morning," he finally said, a bit weakly. "Did you sleep okay?"

"I did." The corners of my mouth tugged up. "Thank you for tucking me in."

"Any time," he purred, trying to flirt, but underneath the lilt of his voice, I could make out the concern. I played along, though, and shook my head in mock disapproval.

I wandered over to the cabinet of mugs, choosing a light blue one and setting it on the counter. Hot coffee filled the cup, the steam writhing up to fill the air with caramel and chocolate notes. I cleared my throat gently.

"I have to leave after I get dressed to get back to Liv and Ria."

"Of course," Andras agreed. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "What can we do to help?"

"I don't know."

"I'll start clearing the snow away from the car while you're getting your things ready," Nadia offered.

"That's very sweet. Thank you."

Leaning against the counter, I sipped the steaming coffee. It scalded my tongue, and I winced. The floor was cold against my bare feet. I gently raised up onto my toes, lightly bouncing from one foot to the other. My eyes were glued to the mug cupped in my hands because I had no idea what to say to either of them. Yesterday, I woke up entangled with Andras's naked, muscled body, content to stay there forever, his hot skin and breath mingling with mine. But last night…last night I fell asleep with dried blood under my fingernails, haunted by the horrific images of the day, of gnashing jaws, of disembodied heads. Yesterday, I killed people. W e had killed people. Or…halflings–who had tried to kill us!--but the halflings had been alive. They'd once been human, they had families, and friends, and I was still sorting out how I felt about any of it. Scared? Grief-stricken. Nothing at all. The apathy was the hardest to swallow; the brief moments where it felt like it was "all in a day's work" especially scared me. What a terrible, inhuman way to cope , I thought.

Andras laughed at something that Nadia said and my eyes flicked up to his face. That perfect godsdamn face! The sun-tanned skin, the shocking blue eyes, the full lips and the…

"What in the world are you thinking about, Danny?" Nadia asked, clearly holding back a laugh.

I ignored her and took another sip of the scalding coffee.

Since that first night on my porch, when I'd met Andras, something started changing in me; the energy just under my skin began to build. I'd noticed it at certain times and thought to myself, Ah, good, the depression is fading, I can see clearly now. But it was more than that, so much more than that. He made me want things for myself again. Through knowing him, I remembered that I was a fiercely capable creature and more than just a means to an end, but the end and the beginning, in and of myself. And sex with him had been, well, otherworldly.

But the greatest gift had been trust. After losing my father and after my marriage with Steven, I didn't think it was possible to trust another human or to trust myself with another person. But I did trust Andras. And I wanted him so much, wanted this one selfish slice of happiness so much. I was pretty sure I love–.

"–interesting," Nadia spoke into her coffee cup, interrupting my thoughts. Our eyes met, and hers were knowing . Oh shit, she could feel emotions. I shot her a look that communicated to kindly keep it to her godsdamn self. She merely smiled sweetly. Andras, being a vampire and just generally perceptive as hell, noticed our silent exchange.

"Am I missing something?" he questioned, an eyebrow raised as he glanced between us.

"No," we both echoed each other.

"I should go pack," I announced, shoving away from the counter.

Cupping the coffee mug in my hands, I slowly walked down the hallway to the guest room. I had just set the mug down on one of the bedside tables and started repacking my bag when I felt someone behind me and stilled.

"It's just me," Nadia said.

She came around to the bed and sat next to the small pile of clothes I'd gathered there, patting them in place. Nadia pulled one foot up and angled it so her heel rested against her thigh. Just two girlfriends chatting in their pajamas, it would seem to a stranger. I raised an eyebrow at her in question while I made quick work of folding a sweater.

"You can tell me to mind my own business at any point," Nadia said, smiling tightly, "but I know how you feel about him, and I can sense the conflict there, too. I understand, maybe more than you can imagine. But I just wanted to say, hold on to the people who make you feel at ease and celebrate you being you."

I forced a smile but didn't respond. I didn't know how. Nadia sat quietly for a moment, searching my face, before gathering herself up and heading to the door. "I'll give you some peace while you pack," she said quietly, then paused with her hand on the doorknob, and without turning around, she said, "I'm glad to have met you. If this is the last time we ever see each other, I just want you to know that." She turned the knob and hesitated, keeping her eyes on the door.

"You didn't imagine the electricity in your hands, Danny. You're more powerful than you know, and I suspect that your family knows. I suspect they have the answers to your questions. Just be careful who you ask and who you tell. And come find me, when you need help."

I frowned, caught off guard and confused.

"Nadia, I don't know what—"

"Give yourself some time to process this shitshow before you start down that road because it might be a long one. Just remember what I said."

She opened the door, and as she passed through the threshold, I whispered, "thank you, Nadia."

Her bare feet padded down the hallway, almost as quiet as death, as the icy mountain itself. I continued to pack, struggling to focus on the task at hand. Her cryptic words echoed in my thoughts: "I suspect your family knows."