Briefly, I considered the mechanics of medieval dress laces. I’d never been great with shoelaces, but perhaps dresses could be slipped on and off without fiddling with all those strings, like a pair of old sneakers. There wasn’t cell service in my dream, so it wasn’t as though I could google it the way you’d google “how to remove a bra with one hand.” Not that I’d ever done that.
Just like I’d never done something as absurd as sneak a slice of chocolate cake into a dungeon because some girl looked like she really wanted it.
Okay, maybe I had done that, but she’d had my back earlier, sparing me from Amy’s disgusting flask, and I had to repay her before I vanquished her from my dream. I was a gentleman.
She’s a plague, I reminded myself. I had to sanitize my thoughts before she ravaged my brain for good.
That viscount, or whatever he was, could have all of Courtney’s mind plague germs to himself, thanks. I noticed him staring at her at dinner while a duke prattled on about oregano (I blamed that conversation on last night’s dinner). I was disgusted with my own mind for creating him. It probably came from reading my grandma’s romance novels, which often featured some slimy viscount lurking in the shadows, being evil and mysterious, kidnapping heroines, and, in general, bringing down the quality of life of all those around them. What a dick.
You couldn’t trust viscounts. It was the silentsthat did it for me, hiding like a snake in tall grass.
A log popped in the fireplace, and I jumped. Sparks crackled and hissed. The fire burned lower, and darkness closed in.
I sat up, sheets falling to my waist. I scratched my bare chest.
By now Courtney was undoubtedly growing frightened, all alone in her room, wondering what was lurking in the darkcorners and trying not to think about how well her sheets had been washed.
Since I’d established I was a gentleman, it was only right for me to check on her. I had to get out of here… to make sureshewas safe.
I pried myself out of bed and slid on my jeans from earlier. The floor was frigid under my bare feet as I crossed the room. My walk turned into a run as the feeling of something creeping in the darkness washed across my back. I needed to check on her.Now.
I flung open my bedroom door. One, two, three, four steps later I’d crossed the hall. My shoulder hit her door as my hand twisted the knob, and I half fell inside.
Courtney shot up, clutching blankets to her chest. Even in the orange light from the fire, the familiar look twisting her face was unmistakable. Only Courtney could simultaneously look delighted and enraged. “What do you want?” she asked, practically sharpening her fangs, which was a weird way to swoon and say,My hero.
“I wanted to confirm I got the Chosen One’s room,” I said. “I did, by the way. This room sucks.” To be totally honest, the rooms were identical. Except her fire did seem brighter. Warmer. Cozier. Damn her.
“You mean you’re scared of the dark.” She smirked her annoying smirky smirk. “You can’t just barge in here. Fuck off.”
I should have fucked off. After all, I’d checked on her and confirmed she was perfectly fine—well,finewas a kind word for what Courtney was.Vilewas more fitting.
But as I considered returning to my cold, dark, ominous, foreboding, probably haunted room, I decided that, since I was the hero, staying was the only noble choice. To ensureCourtney’ssafety.
I strode across the room and hopped onto the bed, shouldering her aside and taking her covers. She punched me in the arm,and I laughed as obnoxiously as I could. It felt nice to forget about the kidnapping part of my dream for a second and get back to our usual verbal sparring.
“Why are you here?” she asked, half to herself, like she was baffled as to why she was letting me this close to her.
“We both know you’re the damsel in distress who can’t be left on her own for more than two minutes without getting kidnapped. I’m here to protect you from yourself.”
Her dark eyes narrowed to slits. “If you’re such a gentleman, then you’d offer to take the floor.”
Ignoring her, I pulled the blankets over my shoulders and hunkered down. Her pillow smelled like her shampoo—jasmine and honey.
I especially hated Dream Courtney. Dreams seduced me with their harmlessness until I loosened my control, and Dream Courtney was always there, eager for me to slip up. Not that Dream Me minded. Which was troubling.
“Bryce?”
My eyes flew upward. Arms crossed, Courtney glowered down at me like I was something unpleasant pulled from a shower drain.
“Huh?”
“Take the floor.”
I scrambled upright, sheets sliding to my hips. Her eyes tracked the movement, and I tried not to notice her noticing me, even if it did make me feel warm and nice inside.
“It doesn’t matter if I take the floor.” I yawned. “I’ll wind up here in the end. Haven’t you ever read those books where there’s only one bed, and the couple has to share? It doesn’t matter if I start on the floor because you’ll beg me to join you for some half-baked reason we both know is an excuse for you to have your wicked way with me.”
By the time I’d finished, her brows were buried so deeply in her hairline, it would have taken an archaeological dig to find them again. “Into romance novels, are you, Bryce?”
