Page 116 of The Fake Divination Offense
This is the first time I’ve woken up like this with him.
He’s next to me, clinging to my hand with both of his. My sling came off at some point, and my shoulder doesn’t hurt anymore, but I’m still in my clothes, jeans gaping open, shirt covered in his dried cum. The comforter’s pulled up from the other side of the bed, wrapped around Bel’s mostly naked body like a cloak as he sits on his knees next to me, his lace panties twisted around his hips,his eyes big and gleaming in the dark. His illusion magic wore off; he’s in his demon form.
We fell asleep. What time is it? Night, at least, and sweat turns sticky across my body, limbs twitching as the nightmare recedes. Adrenaline’s always a relentless bitch of a drop, and it tugs me into the chasm of regret, of shame, of lingering waves of irrational fear.
I’m used to the nightmares about Seb. I’ve had them so many times over the past ten years, I compartmentalize them as easily as avoiding a sprain.
But feeling it all over again, the abandonment and helplessness, in relation toBel?
A tremor runs from the base of my skull straight down my spine and I stiffen every gods-damned muscle in my body. Do not react. Not yet.
“Are you—” I clear my throat, tongue dry. “Did I hurt you?”
Bel shakes his head, lifting my hand to press it to his cheek. “No. You sat up, and you were moaning. You… you said my name.”
My palm twitches, feeling the softness of his skin, letting it ground me.
“If you—” Gods, I have to fight to talk, my mouth scraped clean. “If you want to sleep in the guestroom—”
Bel frowns, appalled. “What?No, I do not want to sleep in the guestroom. This doesn’t scare me. You told me that you needed me. Let yourselfneed me, because I want that, too.”
A hesitation. Just one more. “Bel—”
He presses my hand to his face. “I’m yours. You said so. This is what it means, Orok. I’m yours, and I’m not going anywhere.”
It’s as good as permission to my nightmare-addled brain.
“At Camp Merethyl,” I start, hoarse, jagged. “They paired us up. They made us—theyforcedus to—”
Bel strokes my sweaty hair, his face full of heartache. “I know, baby. I’m so sorry.”
“They took Seb. When I’d mess up. They forced us to do awful things, and when I failed, they’d take Seb and beat him even worse and—and I could never save him. I could never stop it.”
A sob rips out, gagging me. With a brittle cry, I yank Bel into my arms, rolling us sideways on the bed, and cling to him with everything I have.
“They took you,” I whisper. “They took you this time. I couldn’t save you.”
Bel melts against me, scratching his fingers over my scalp, burrowing into me as strongly as I hold him. “I’m here,” he says, his voice tear choked. He clears it. “I’m okay. You can feel me? I’m here with you.”
I made my peace with Urzoth abandoning me and Seb. It took almost every moment of the past ten years, but I’ve moved on. My brain still dredges it up when I’m sleeping; in my waking moments, though, I’mfinewith it. I’m living, I’m healing.
But Urzoth abandoned Bel.
It was a dream. I know it was a dream.It wasn’t real.
My mind is a malleable, sleep-deprived mess of emotions and reality.
Urzoth should haveheard me. Why didn’t he hear me?
Behind my closed eyelids, I see Bel in my dream, bloodied, beaten.
A whimper claws out of my throat.
With Seb, I always tried so hard to pull myself together after a nightmare. I’d sometimes make him sleep in my bed, but I never clung to him like this, and I always talked myself carefully through all the reasons why my fears were ungrounded.
But instead, I do what Bel told me to do. I let myself need him.
Shivers rack me as relief truly sets in, untying knots through my chest, releasing the cramping in my neck and back.
