Page 35 of Daghel

My brows rise in surprise. He is… right. Right and far more loquacious than usual. And somehow, just that easily, something within me, that felt fractured beyond repair, settles into place.

I sigh heavily and scrape my claws against my jaw. “I still dislike it.”

Drisk’s eyes slide shut tiredly and for a moment I see just how exhausted he is after flying through the storm.“No one said you had to like it, orc.”His nearest eye slides back open briefly to peer at me.“What you should be concerned about is what Vorn will do when Linahna delivers your message. He is a vindictive male, and he does not like to be kept waiting. Do not trust him with your back turned for even a moment.”

I grunt in agreement. Truer words have never been spoken.

Chapter

Twenty-Four

ANYA

Iam drifting, floating in a frozen black sea. It is the same old nightmare. I know it is a nightmare and yet I have no control over the panic that fills me as the coldness crystalizes around me. There is nothing but the icy abyss as far as I can see, its cold clawing at me, drawing itself deeper and deeper within me. It closed over my throat, choking me. I am choking, my lungs are freezing, and I’m drifting in endless nothing. My mouth opens in a scream, and I jolt upward and straight into a hard, warm body.

“Anya?”Drisk rumbles, and I feel the heat of his arm and the soft leather of his wing curl around me. His muzzle brushes over me, his nostrils flaring as he proceeds to thoroughly scent me.“You smell of fear, but you are unharmed.”

“I… I’m okay,” I croak, as I wrap my arms around his thick neck. “It was only a nightmare. Only a fucking nightmare.”

His head tips to caress the side of his horned brow against me affectionately.“Do you wish to speak of it? I would help you bear the burden of your terror.”

I give him a fond smile but remain silent as I trace the sensitive scales on his jaw with my fingertips. I still feel disoriented from the dream. I don’t want to think about it, much less speak of it. That he wants to be there for me in that capacity is more than enough.

“Speak of what?” Daghel grumbles sleepily. He rolls slightly and squints blearily over his shoulder at us. Then his eyes fly open wide with relief as he turns with a happy bellow and gathers me tightly into his arms. “Merciful Vepra, you are awake!”

“Barely,” I admit with a shaken laugh. “Sorry if I worried you.”

He pulls back to peer at me, his smile fading in a way that breaks my fucking heart. “More than worried,” he admits heavily and exhales a pent breath. “But what matters is that you are okay. I swear that I shall never allow such a thing to happen again.”

I tip my head in confusion. “How do you think you will do that?” My lips twitch faintly when he meets my question with a frustrated expression. “I get that you want to, and I truly love that you want to keep me safe,” I assure him, “but I don’t want that promise from you.”

His brow lowers even further. “Why?”

I offer him a small smile as I rub the deep line drawn between his eyebrows. “Because, for you to make that guarantee, it means I would have to surrender all my autonomy into your keeping and make you responsible in a way that isn’t fair to either of us. I don’t want that, Daghel. I don’t mind that you and Drisk are perfectly happy to slaughter anyone or anything that might hurt me, but my decisions still need to be my own. And while I promise to listen to your input, there are going to be a few hard lines that I need you to respect.”

“You speak of the cold,” he grumbles. “You are afraid of it.”

“It is the terror that haunts her sleep,”Drisk replies, accurately surmising what I suffered within my nightmare with just that small amount of information.

I swallow and nod. Daghel sighs and drags his hand down his face. Cupping his chin, he considers me for a long moment before slowly dipping his head in agreement.

“Very well. I do not wish to chain and break the things I love the most. If there is something that is what you call a hard line, I want you to clearly tell me so that I understand your reasoning, but I wish for you to take my cautioning—and Drisk’s—seriously. The Cold Mountains are not forgiving to people as fragile as humans. They are not even forgiving to orcs, and we have tougher skin,” he adds with a faint twist of his lips.

Love the most? I’m pretty sure he continued speaking after—something about the mountains being unforgiving to humans and orcs—but my brain is still stuck on those three little words. He loves me. Happiness blooms within me despite my attempt to temper it and exercise some self-control.

“You love me?” I whisper, and he regards me first with surprise and then amusement as his icy expression shifts and thaws.

“What I feel… it is love, and more than love. It is as a fire within my soul, uniting us,” he answers, his voice a soothing rumble in my ears. He smirks and nods toward Drisk curled at my side. “Drisk does as well.”

“I have already proclaimed the highest nature of my devotion,”Drisk sighs,“but as Anya was not conscious to enjoy it, if she wishes to narrowly define it in terms such as love, then I can accept the facsimile.”

I bite back a smile at the wyvern’s cocky tone that is completely belied by the soft crooning that fills my ears as his claws gather me closer to his broad chest. I blink back my tears, overwhelmed by emotion.

“I—”

A small knock at the bedchamber door startles me, and I look over as Gwen pops in just even to give Daghel a cautious smile.

“Apologies. Vorn asked me to check on Anya’s recuperation. I had hoped to do so without waking anyone, but I see that everyone is awake already,” she adds, directing a warm smile my way as she walks inside and heads directly for the bed. “I’m so happy to see that you are awake, Anya.”

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