A Slave to Broken Hearts (A Slave to Love Sequel)

Chapter 71: Surprise

For the first time in a while, I woke up and didn't immediately feel reality crashing around my ankles.

Instead, I woke slowly, naturally, not to the usual blare of my alarm but to peace and quiet. The sun was only just barely risen over the horizon, slanting its rays in through my open window and banishing the grey darkness of the night. Birds were chirping, and it was a cool, humid, early morning.

And he was still here.

Curled low, his head was resting on my stomach, not bothered by the gentle rise and fall of my breathing,  and he had an arm slung across my hips, his legs tangled in sheets that were half off the bed. I hadn't dreamed him up last night.

With the last nights sweating, the early morning humidity, and him on top of most of my body, it wasn't entirely pleasant to have him stuck to my clammy flesh like this, but I wouldn't have moved for anything. If I moved, he might wake up. And when he woke up, this peaceful moment would be over, things would be uncomfortable, and reality would set in again for both of us. He would leave. 

So even thought it was unbearably sticky and hot, and I definitely had to pee, I wasn't going to disturb him. I was going to enjoy this quiet moment like it was our last. With my luck, it probably was.

His hair was a mess, I could see that much from this angle. I longed to pass my fingers through it again, as I had hours ago, but I was terrified it would wake him. So I kept my hands to myself and my breathing steady. 

Blade twitched against my stomach and I froze, not yet ready to face him and no doubt he wasn't ready to think about all his crushing fears again either, but then he relaxed, breath even and deep. Thankfully he slept deeply after his episodes, the stress and strain taking its toll and exhausting him, plus I had summoned him in the middle of the night, keeping him from resting even further.

Or had I?

He had a point, it was definitely possible I had summoned him in my sleep; my dream had definitely been full of desperate longing even if I couldn't remember why and he had no reason to show up unannounced and uninvited.

But...how could I really know it was me? How did I know he didn't just come here to see me and tried to pretend it was my fault he was here when I caught him, unable to admit he had needed my help? Maybe he showed up to try and ask for help but backed out when he saw I was asleep. Or maybe he just didn't know how to ask, hadn't managed to work up the courage.

Or maybe he had just thought being near me was enough, though it never was. A few times I'd woken in the night to find him next to me, upset but quiet so as not to disturb me, just needing to be sure I was still there and still safe, but he never settled down enough to sleep unless we spoke or I comforted him. 

Before I knew it, I had drifted asleep. When I woke up again, he wasn't touching me  and disappointment sank to my stomach. Then I realized, no he wasn't touching me...but he was still here. Creaking my eyelids open, the sunlight blaring at full strength now and almost blinding me, I saw him. He had rolled off of me, eyes still closed, on his back now with one arm thrown partially over his face, lying just an inch or two away from me.

I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it. I admired his form, hair still a disaster, body stretched divinely. His head was still near the middle of my mattress so he had probably rolled right off my stomach and hadn't woken up at all. His legs dangled off the edge of my bed and I couldn't help but smile at the sight. He was out.

The sight of him passed out and splayed out like a disheveled starfish, was so familiar and warm to me that I had to stifle a laugh. When he reached this level of sleep, it was hard to wake him for anything, but still, I'd be careful.