The Fae King's Dream (Between Dawn and Dusk #2) - Jamie Schlosser Page 0,131
over her to grab the metal goblet on the nightstand. Earlier today, I woke her around lunch time to force some water down her throat. She obeyed my commands to swallow, but she promptly fell asleep again before she could drain the cup.
“Baby,” I whisper, slipping a hand behind her neck. “Drink.”
Keeping her eyes closed, she sips at the freshly squeezed gozzel juice. A pleased noise resounds in her throat as she gulps more. The sweet fruit is tasty, satisfying, and most importantly, energizing.
A cup of this stuff can kick the worst hangover.
I should know. I’ve been drinking it all day. Coming down off a Glow buzz isn’t fun. My muscles are sore, my head is pounding, and although I’ve spent a good part of the past forty-eight hours sleeping, I feel like I’ve been awake for weeks.
If I had a different power, I might be tempted to take more of the drug, but unless I want to walk this world alone while everyone else snoozes, I need to avoid Glow from now on.
Blinking drowsily, Whitley nudges the goblet away as she gazes up at me with a loving smile. “Are you a demon or an angel?”
“An angel of death, maybe.” I cringe when I think about the respect I’ve gained among the soldiers.
It’s purely cultivated from fear. Now that they’ve realized Whitley and I are the deadliest pair in Valora, they’re scared of me. Of us. And they should be.
They’ve seen how easily we can destroy someone—not that we would, of course. Once Merina’s taken care of, I hope we never have to go after someone that way again.
As Whitley glances around our tent, alarm strikes her features. “Did we get them all? The last few aren’t clear. There was darkness.” Rubbing her temple, she shakes her head. “Screams.”
“Hey. It’s over now. You did good.”
“So we’re safe?”
“Merina still lives, but Astrid has assured me that without the others, the threat is greatly diminished.”
“Why couldn’t we find her?” Whitley struggles to sit up, so I help her. “I don’t understand.”
It feels good to have my hands on her body. As my fingers slide under her nightshirt, I brush smooth, warm skin. Deciding I want more contact, I drag her onto my lap.
“Maybe she was too far away and she’s been staying awake?” I guess. “Maybe she has some kind of super spell that makes her immune to my power? The only other explanation is that she left Valora. It’s possible she knows about a realm I can’t access.”
A wrinkle appears on Whitley’s forehead. “That would mean abandoning her people.”
“I wouldn’t put it past her to value self-preservation above her followers’ lives.”
There’s hope in my mate’s crystal eyes. “Maybe she won’t ever come back.”
“It would be wise of her to stay away.”
Touching my cheek, she grazes the freshly shaved skin. “I almost lost you.”
“You saved me. I owe you my life, and I’ll spend the rest of it worshipping this body.” Lowering my head to her nipple, I hover just above the thin fabric covering the hard pebble.
“Mmm. I’d be okay with that.”
After giving her a playful bite, I send her a mock pout. “There’s just one problem, though.”
“What’s that?”
“You sort of stole my thunder here,” I complain lightly, and Whitley smiles at my teasing tone. “I’m usually the hero in pretty much every situation. There’s been maybe three instances in my whole life where someone else saved the day.”
“You better get used to me saving your ass.” She pokes my chest. “I have a feeling I’ll have to do it a lot.”
“My Queen of Badassery.” I kiss her, and I taste the citrusy juice lingering on her tongue.
“King Damon!” an urgent voice calls from somewhere on the outskirts of the camp. “Where’s the king? He needs to come quickly.”
“Go.” Whitley nods toward the closed flap of our tent. “I’ll get dressed and be right out.”
I hate leaving her side so soon after what happened. Briefing Kirian, Zander, and Astrid after they woke up was a necessity. Other than the few minutes it took to give them the run down, I’ve been attached to Whitley’s side.
Whatever news this soldier has for me, it better be worth it.
Grumpy, I stride out to greet him. He’s dripping wet, from his soaked blond mohawk to his squishing brown boots. He’s young. He has the look of a boy who just aged into manhood. Probably joined the military as soon as he turned twenty-one.