Page 186 of The Mercy of Dawn

Not a simple question for her to answer.

That familiar and foggy heaviness of exhaustion pulled persistently at her eyes and her limbs, but her entire body buzzed in tandem with the weight of that pull. It was strange, and she didn’t entirely know what to do about it.

“I don’t know.”

Mikael squeezed her shoulder. “Well, whenever you want to turn in, the bed is all yours. I’ll sleep over here.”

As he gestured over to the sofa by the fire, Cyril realized he’d set up a makeshift bed for himself—on the other side of the room from where he wanted her to sleep.

“Oh,” she breathed.

Was she wrong in thinking…

“Is that…” He eyed her warily. “Is that alright?”

“I just thought you’d want to sleep with me, that’s all.”

An almost pained noise left him.

“Cyril, there are a lot of things I want, but I won’t make assumptions about what you are and aren’t comfortable with right now. I thought you might appreciate some space.”

Gods. Space was the last thing she wanted from him. The last few days that she’d spent not seeing him, holed up alone in her room? Awful. Every fiber of her being craved the feeling of safety and security that came from being tucked at his side.

“Sleep with me, please?” Cyril looked up at him as she issued her quiet plea.

His defeated sigh followed quickly.

“Fine.” Mikael drew her in and kissed the top of her head. “But if you touch me with those fucking cold feet, I’m kicking you to the sofa for the rest of the night. Understood?”

A quiet laugh left Cyril for the first time in what felt like forever. Her cheek ached with the smile that crept onto her face. “Understood, Commander.”

Chapter 45

Cyril tried not to read too far into the unease that lingered in Mikael’s eyes when he left her side and started to pull back the covers of his bed. But the sliver of happiness she felt being in his presence again vanished, something sickening and anxious sinking its claws into her instead.

Was she…not wanted here? No, of course not.

Mikael said he didn’t want her, didn’t he?

His invitation was entirely based on obligation.

She should have said no. She should have gone back to her room, alone.

But she didn’t feel safe alone, she wasn’t safe, alone—

Cyril took a slow breath and pulled off her boots and socks, leaving them by the door. She walked back to the bed, trying desperately to anchor herself to the feeling of the cool, stone floors on her bare feet. Her hands shook by the time she started loosening the laces on her pants, and it took remarkable effort to slide them down her legs.

“Cyr?”

She couldn’t brave looking back over her shoulder at him.

“Yeah?”

“Do you…want something else to wear? Something more…comfortable? I can get you—”

“I’m fine.”

Her shirt was as good as anything right now, and she just wanted to lie down. Or run. She didn’t really know.