Page 35 of Surrendered to Mate

I shake my head, gesturing to myself. "Vrakken, remember? The blood I just drank will keep me going for a while. Besides, I don't need as much sleep as you do."

She hesitates for a moment, then nods, settling down on her bedroll. "Wake me if anything happens, okay?"

"Of course," I assure her, surprised by how much I mean it. "Sleep well, sweetheart."

As Faye drifts off, I take up a position nearby, keeping watch over our camp and the sleeping human who's somehow managed to worm her way past my centuries-old apathy.

I watch as Faye settles into her bedroll, her breathing gradually slowing as sleep claims her. The early morning light filters through the leaves, casting a soft glow on her face. I can't help but admire her features - the curve of her jaw, the sweep of her lashes, the slight furrow of her brow even in sleep.

She's beautiful. It's now a constant thought that's been bouncing around my mind, even if it shouldn't, but I can't deny its truth.

I feel a familiar hunger stirring within me, despite having just fed. The memory of her blood, rich and intoxicating, floods my senses. My fangs ache with the desire for another taste.

But it's more than just bloodlust. With every passing hour, every shared moment, I find myself drawn to her in ways I can't explain. She's awakening something in me, emotions I thought long dead.

I've lived for centuries, surrounded by my own kind, content in my apathy. But now? Now I find myself caring about her well-being, enjoying her company, craving her presence.

It's unsettling. Exhilarating. Terrifying.

I watch the steady rise and fall of her chest, listening to the soft rhythm of her heartbeat. It's a siren song, calling to me, testing my control.

How long can I resist? How long before I give in to this growing desire?

I clench my fists, forcing myself to look away. I need to focus, to remember why we're here. The mission, the tablet, the underwater gate - that's what matters. Not these unexpected feelings for a human.

But even as I tell myself this, I know it's a lie. Faye matters. She matters more than I ever thought possible.

And that scares me more than any dark elf or ancient magic ever could.

I'm yanked from my brooding by a sudden, pitiful sound. My eyes dart to Faye, who's started thrashing in her sleep. Her face twists in anguish, tears seeping from beneath her tightly shut eyelids. The scent of her fear and distress hits me like a punch to the gut.

Without a second thought, I'm at her side in a heartbeat, my supernatural speed carrying me across the forest floor. I drop to one knee beside her bedroll, my hand suspended above her shoulder.

I hesitate, torn between the urge to comfort her and the fear of startling her awake. Damn it, what am I supposed to do? This isn't exactly something I've had to worry about…well, ever. It's not like I've ever cared enough to comfort someone.

Another whimper escapes her, and my fingers twitch, itching to make contact, to soothe away whatever nightmares plague her sleep.

"Faye?" I whisper, my voice tight with an unfamiliar worry.

She doesn't respond, lost in whatever nightmare grips her. Her breathing becomes ragged, punctuated by soft sobs that tear at something deep inside me. I've never felt so helpless.

"Sweetheart, it's okay," I murmur, finally resting my hand on her arm. "You're safe."

Faye flinches at my touch, a pained whimper escaping her lips. "No... please..." she mumbles, her voice thick with fear.

My chest tightens painfully. What horrors is she reliving? What memories haunt her dreams? The urge to protect her, to shield her from whatever terrors plague her mind, is overwhelming.

I gently stroke her arm, trying to soothe her without waking her. "Shh, it's alright. I'm here," I whisper, surprising myself with how much I mean it.

Faye's distress seems to ease slightly at my touch, but tears still stream down her cheeks. She curls into herself, looking so small and vulnerable that it takes my breath away.

I find myself longing to gather her in my arms, to hold her close and chase away her fears. But I resist, knowing it might only frighten her more if she wakes.

Instead, I continue my gentle ministrations, murmuring soft reassurances. "You're safe, sweetheart. Nothing can hurt you here. I won't let it."

As I watch over her, my worry grows with each pained expression that crosses her face. What happened to her in Liiandor? What nightmares still haunt her?

For the first time in centuries, I feel a burning desire to protect someone other than myself. To shield Faye from harm, to ease her pain. It's a foreign feeling, both terrifying and exhilarating.

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