I still had nothing to say back to him. What the fuck was there to say?
For the longest moment, I just sat there on the edge of my bed, staring down at him as his chest rose and fell with his even breathing.
"Stop staring at me," he said, startling me enough that I jumped and almost fell off the fucking mattress. I actually would have if his hand hadn't shot out of the blankets and grabbed my wrist.
Embarrassment flooded my cheeks. "I thought you were asleep," I grumbled, like that was any excuse for staring at him. Come to think of it, that made it worse.
His fingers flexed on my wrist, and he pulled me closer to where he lay on the other side of my bed. "Lie down, Princess. Rest that paranoia for a couple of minutes. You can finish bitching me out in the morning when I've got a hangover. Won't that be fun?"
I laughed, lacking the energy to pull away from him. Instead, I did exactly what he said and lay down in the vacant space beside him, pulling one of the spare pillows over to tuck under my head.
His eyes were closed, but I suspected he was still awake, even if it was only a fraction. So I pushed a bit more.
"Why do you care?" I murmured, half expecting to get no response at all. "Why do you care if I talk to Demi about divorcing you? Wouldn't that just be easier than keeping me alive until I turn twenty-one? Seems like a no-brainer." Because it was just money. If it meant regaining my name and my freedom, would I be willing to walk away with nothing?
Archer drew a deep breath, not even opening his eyes as he replied. "But then you would have no reason to stay in Shadow Grove," he told me on a sleepy mumble, "and I might never see you again."
My heart stopped beating for a second. "Would that be so bad?" I asked on a whisper, my stomach in knots and my skin prickling with anxiety.
"Yes."
I didn't reply to that confession. Words couldn't form, even if I did know what to say; the lump in my throat was too thick.
Some moments of silence later, Archer's breathing slowed and deepened, indicating he'd fallen asleep, and I tentatively shifted closer to him. When he didn't react, I slipped under the blankets and tucked my pillow further under my head as I lay facing him.
So many romance novels described the way an alpha asshole male would soften in sleep, how they'd lose all that dickish anger and combative bullshit and reveal their true face. Archer wasn't like that. Even in sleep, his brow held a line of a scowl and his lips sat tight and tilted down at the corners, like he'd been frozen in mid-scowl.
Unable to help myself, I reached out and traced the line between his brows, like I could smooth the frown away. At my touch, he drew a deeper breath, but didn't react beyond that. His forehead did seem to relax a touch, though.
I released a small sigh, letting my fingertip trail down the side of his face like an adrenaline junkie sticking her finger into a mousetrap.
"Why do you hate me so much, Archer D'Ath?" I whispered aloud, unable to keep that one, overriding thought inside my head any longer.
He drew another, deeper breath, his lashes flickering open a fraction.
"I don't hate you, Kate," he mumbled, his voice so thick with sleep I could barely make out the words. "I hate myself... for loving you when I have no right to."
With those words, my heart exploded into a million bloody chunks. His eyes closed again almost immediately, though, and his breathing returning to the deep, even rhythm of sleep.
My stomach ached like it was wrapped in barbed-wire and the pain in my chest was enough to make tears prick at my eyes, but I said nothing. I had nothing to say. Instead, I rolled onto my other side, facing away from Archer.
I seriously doubted I'd be able to sleep, but he'd given me a hell of a lot to think about. And for some inexplicable reason, I didn't want to move any further away.
Archer D'Ath wasn't the big bad villain I'd always painted him as. He was more of a dark knight. My dark knight.
31
When I woke, it was to the feeling of being secure and loved.