Page 62 of Nocte

“Niamh!” He flicks his tongue against my forehead. “Stay awake. Don’t you dare fall asleep.”

Or die. I can’t go to sleep or die.

So, I try not to do both. I try even as my lungs fill up and air becomes a rare, valuable thing to get a hold of. I try.

For him, I try…

And he is enough. It’s so strange to realize as much. I’m feeding off his energy. His strength. The more he touches me, strokes through my hair, and presses his mouth to my cold flesh.

The easier it is to cling to life. I could outlast death for an eternity like this, with him on top of me. Beside me. Inside me.

I could survive anything.

But then he pulls away, and I struggle to see why. The air becomes too heavy. Impossible to inhale. My vision turns cloudy, tinged with inky black. I’ll die if I can’t hold on.

If I can’t feed off his nearness and resilience, I’ll die.

I’m dying…

I’m already dead…

“Heal her, now.” Caspian’s voice is a frail whisper. A bellowing shout. It echoes all the way back to the other realm, where even the Lord Master can hear it.

I am sure of it.

He speaks as though he intends the entire world to hear it. Death itself.

“Heal her?—”

“I’m not sure I can,” a new voice cuts in, clashing with his. Soft and sweet and delicate. Such a nice voice. “What the hell did you do to her, vampire? Jesus!”

“Heal her, you foolish mundane,” Caspian replies in a heady growl. “Or I will rip out your fucking throat?—”

“Save your threats,” the second figure replies. A woman, I think. Her voice is so beautiful. So lilting and strong. Different from the accented speech of the fae. Different.

“I can’t do a damn thing to help her with you scowling over me! Wait over there. Now, vampire. Or I will slip a poison into her veins before you could even think to stop me.”

“Heal her,” Caspian snaps.

“Keep silent and let me think.”

I’m drowning again. The soft fingers that prod my forearm don’t have the power to yank me back like Caspian’s do. Still… they are very gentle. Very kind. Very warm.

“I got here just in time, it looks like,” the woman admits, sounding closer. Nearby. Above me. “She’s barely hanging on. I’m surprised you didn’t drain the last drops out of her. Now move! Let me work in peace.”

In peace.

I so very much long for peace.

Or at least I did.

Now, I don’t.

I long for chaos and dancing red and clashing ivory. I long for one last glimpse of those fiery, hungry eyes.

I wish I could grant him his only wish.

I’ll let him eat me. Gobble up what’s left of my soul.