Page 148 of Wings of Ash & Flame
“It does.” He shook his head. “That impulsiveness gives you away, Alaire. Big heart or not, sometimes we have to wait. We bide our time.”
She looked away, jaw tight. “So what? I sit in the infirmary while those things crawl across campus?”
“They can’t leave the Bone Cavern. The Consortium will send people to investigate and seal those that didn’t die from the sun inside. Bloodravagers are grotesque creatures corrupted by vampires. Rabid beasts driven by insatiable hunger. Like their makers, they can’t survive sunlight. For now, focus on healing, your studies, and preparing for your last trial. When the time is right, everyone will know. Until then, we play by their rules.”
Alaire crossed her arms. “I don’t like it. Something feels wrong.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I agree, but if we’re going to do this, it has to be quietly. We’ll consult with Beck and Solflara. Somehow, we’ll figure it out.”
She sighed. “Fine. But I’m telling Kaia and Archer. I won’t keep this from them.”
He leaned back. “Fine. Since Caius already knows and Kaia is his partner, that makes sense.”
“I wasn’t asking your permission.”
“Of course you weren’t.” A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.
“I’m not staying here. I need out.” She swung her legs over the bed, clutching the sheets as dark spots danced in her vision.
Dawson’s hand gripped her shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere until you’ve healed. That’s nonnegotiable.”
Alaire lifted her chin. “Yes. I. Am.”
“No, you sure as shit are not. And if you try, I’ll throw you over my shoulder and drag your bratty self right back here. Try me. I dare you.”
Alaire opened her mouth to argue, but her hands trembled against the sheets. “We’ll see.”
I’ll concede this once.
Once she rested and he wasn’t looming over her, she’d be gone.
He gave her a knowing smile, as if he’d read her thoughts. “Get some rest.”
She nodded and settled back against the pillows. He leaned forward, tucking the sheets across her chest.
Soft light painted the room in golden hues. Alaire blinked slowly. The pain was mostly gone, though a dull throb still pulsed beneath the surface.
Dawson was still there, illuminated by the gentle glow. His head rested against the back of the chair, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The faint crease between his brows had eased.
She studied him—the way his lips tugged downward in a restless dream, the faint twitch of his fingers.
A lump rose in her throat.
He stayed.
A memory surfaced, his voice desperate and raw:We’re almost there. Hold on, baby.
She wrapped that memory around herself, letting it seep into the cracks of her heart, needing the weight of it more than she’d ever admit.
For just a little while, she let herself dream of what might have been if she’d lived another life, if circumstances had been different—if fate hadn’t carved out a path of war and loss.
She could almost see it: slow mornings, whispered laughter between kisses beneath the sheets, fingers laced together.
It would’ve been everything.
Her chest tightened. She knew she shouldn’t let her mind go there, that she couldn’t. This moment was fleeting; it wouldn’t last.
And in the morning, she would face the harsh truth of her reality. But tonight, she let herself dream.
