Daylight

Chapter 23

Elain was back in the forest, leaves crunching beneath her feet as she followed... whatever it was. A low-lying branch full of unfallen leaves hung in her way. She tried to push it aside, but it kept brushing against her face and tickling her nose.

She opened her eyes and realized that it wasn't a branch of leaves at all—it was Lucien's hair. Before she could scramble out of the bed, Lucien rolled over in his sleep. She was much closer to him than she normally was when she awoke in his bed. So close that when he rolled, his arm crossed over hers.

She hissed softly, wondering how she was going to sneak out without waking him, though she also wondered when she ought to tell him about these unintentional nightly visits. She suspected they wouldn't stop any time soon, and it was better to tell him than for him to just find out. She spent too long thinking and didn't immediately notice that his eyes were open. She didn't know if it was her hiss that had woken him or the sensation of feeling her flushed skin beneath his arm.

His eyes went wide, the russet eye gleaming in the moonlight spilling in from the window while the mechanical golden eye whirred and spun as it seemed to be focusing on everything and nothing all at once. He jerked back and sat up quickly, immediately squeezing his eyes shut from the sudden movement. He'd had quite a lot to drink the night before, Elain reminded herself.

She watched his bare chest rise and fall as he took rapid shallow breaths. And though she willed her eyes not to, they darted down—just for a split second but long enough to see that he'd also evidently excused himself of his trousers before climbing into bed. The sheet was tucked dangerously low around his hips. Heat rose up her neck and cheeks. She hoped it was too dark for him to notice.

"Wh—What are you... Why are... Are you alright?" Lucien spluttered.

"I'm fine," Elain breathed, her own heart slamming against her chest. Blood rushed to her head, filling her ears, causing her to nearly miss his next words.

"Fuck, I didn't think I had that much to drink... Are you real?" Lucien reached out a tentative hand as if to test to see if she was a hallucination. He didn't touch her, but he still breathed out in disbelief as if he had.

"You're really here, aren't you?"

Elain let out a tremendous sigh and nodded. So much for her plan to tell him before he found out on his own. He stared at her and then his eyes drifted to the floor, staring distantly as if he were trying to remember something.

"I wasn't dreaming the other night up at the House, was I?" Lucien was pale and looked slightly nauseous.

She hoped he could hold his liquor well enough not to throw up on her. She closed her eyes, unwilling to see his expression when she whispered, "No."

He sucked in a sharp breath and muttered, "Cauldron boil me."

Elain opened her eyes and without thinking said the first thing that came into her head. "I wouldn't recommend it. It's not pleasant."

Lucien blinked at her and then seemed to realize what she'd said. "Oh my gods, I'm sorry."

She waved her hand with dismissal. "Before you ask me," she said, her voice tiny and soft, "I have no idea how I end up in here every night."

His eyebrows rose. "Every night? So... it hasn't just been tonight and the night at the House?"

"No," she admitted, which made his eyebrows rise even farther. She wondered how high they could go—if they'd just disappear into his hairline.

"How long—"

"Every night since you came back."

What little color remained in his face drained entirely as he stammered, "How—"