Page 4 of Promised to the Nightmare Realm
I shake my head. “No. I was saving it from bad people, and then— then—”
An echo of pain radiates through my chest, and I hunch over, pressing his palm to my breastbone, struggling to breathe. Did they… shoot me?
Am I hallucinating all of this in my dying moments? I probably am.
“Oh God, I’m dying… I don’t want to die.”
Tristan pulls me closer and presses the bottle with the potion to my lips. “You won’t. But whether it’sveganor not, you need to drink this. I don’t know how much time we have.”
I don’t hesitate. I’m not ready to go yet, and if there is the slightest chance this mystery potion could help, I’ll take it.
It’s sweet on my tongue, almost like candy, but with a tart aftertaste I appreciate as my body sinks into Tristan’s. He’s looking at me. So close. So darn beautiful.
And for once, I want to just say it, whether he’s gay or not.
“I didn’t expect anyone would bother saving me. Especially not someone so handsome.”
Tristan’s lips stretch into a smile as he takes away the empty bottle and settles with his arm around me, thigh to thigh with me. He’s wearing tall leather boots with an insane number of buckles, and I try to envision what a life in a fantasy world like this would mean for me.
I’m still pretty sure I’m dying, but I choose to enjoy these last moments as my body becomes weightless.
“I bet this little guy didn’t expect a handsome savior either.” Tristan strokes the puppy between the ears, and it takes me a second to realize he means me. I guess it’smydying fantasy. Might as well accept a compliment.
I relax into the embrace of my very own romantasy knight, complete with wild red hair and a cloak wrapped protectively around me. I have never felt safer in my life. As I stroke the puppy, watching the giant moon, the glasses sitting on my nose start feeling oddly foreign in these surroundings.
“If I’m a soul, why do I need glasses?”
Tristan chuckles. “You probably don’t, but your body must have imprinted them onto your soul. Otherwise, you’d be naked, right?”
Can a soul blush? Because I feel heat in my cheeks when I imagine being naked under his warm cloak.
“Let’s check if you need them,” he says and leans closer, then takes them off me.
He’s right. I don’t have any vision problems whatsoever. My whole body—soul?—heats up when he leans in, hand on my jaw. There is no doubt in my mind that he wants to kiss me.
Oh God, I want it too. I want it so much.
But then my vision blurs, and my perfect elven knight is gone.
Chapter 3
Nate
Isit up so rapidly my hip ends up dangerously close to the edge of the mattress, but I grab my pillow and manage to keep myself from falling. The cold, alien sensation I experienced on the banks of that horrifying river is still present but somehow easier to ignore when I’m wrapped in my warm comforter—No. It’s something else, even softer. Prying my eyes open again, I look down my body to see fine navy velvet embroidered with the most intricate of patterns and closed at the front with a clasp of what looks like antique silver.
The gears inside my head jam because… what is this? How am I in my bed when Richie and I invaded that damn farm, and he left me there? I remember running and…
I spread the front of the cloak, looking for blood, but when I lift my T-shirt, I find only healthy skin. Was I… not shot? Have I dreamed about the quest to rescue the puppies, or—
The sweetest high-pitched bark leads my gaze to the edge of the bed and a tiny muzzle and even tinier paws. The rottie isdesperately trying to join me on the bed. I remember him being quite the skinny thing, but now he is the picture of health.
I reach for him and pull him close for a hug he’s happy to accept. The pup starts licking my jaw with such enthusiasm Richie’s dismissive attitude seems even more jarring.
I survived. I must have gone through some kind of adrenaline high that caused hallucinations when I ran away with the puppy, because I have no other sensible explanation for what followed. I wrap us both in the cloak of the imaginary knight. God knows where I got it, yet it smells like Tristan did.
Tristan would not have left me behind. He didn’t let me drown, and he didn’t let the other guy throw me back in the river. Was that my subconscious saying I need to dump Richie? I usually look at the world through rose-tinted glasses, but I can’t deny the red flags anymore, can I?
I exhale, hugging the puppy as I lean back against the moody tapestry hung behind my bed and take in the room. I’m renting, so the walls are a clinical white, but I added some character by putting up pictures with easily removable hooks. Then, there are the bookcases filled with my favorite novels, as well as trinkets, and a family of plants. Everything seems normal. What the heck happened to me last night?
