Page 175 of Lost in the Dark
“Thanatos,” I rasp, a seed of dismay burrowing into me as she shivers in recognition.
“I’ve heard of you,” she admits. “But not much. Why are you here?”
I tip my head and regard her as I try to formulate an answer that won’t send her scurrying back into the house fear now that she is finally speaking to me.
“I was drawn.”
I can see the battle in her eyes. My breath stills at the sight of struggle as if something is fighting to the fore. Then she blinks and it is gone. “Ah, so you are just passing through. You did not intentionally come here.”
I incline my head because that much is true.
“And you weren’t trying to scare me, were you?”
I look at her askance and slowly shake my head. “I remain here because you pull me into your dreams.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of the conclusion I’ve come to, though I didn’t realize that I was doing that. Fuck, that’s a little embarrassing. Sorry about that.” She gives a mortifying laugh. “But that’s right, I do seem to recall that the hypnos and thanatos are closed related.”
“We are demons of the same realm and line,” I agree. “It is a manner of disposition, talent, and interest.”
“Demons, huh,” she murmurs.
The tension around her shoulders seems to melt, and she gives me a small, embarrassed smile. That smile alone, as small and hesitant as it is, lights up the world, drawing my pain away with it as it strangely warms my soul.
“Sorry, that’s rude. I don’t have an issue with demons, I just didn’t realize that you were one. I can’t seem to quit putting my foot in my mouth. Well then, you might as well come in if you want to. You’re going to get in anyway once I can’t stay awake any longer, and I think I would feel better having you where I can see you rather than doing that.” She tips her chin toward my hand, my claws still braced against the wall. “It’s super creepy.”
I drop my hand away as if it were scorched by fire. What exactlyamI doing? I am acting like a beast. Even at my worst on the hunt, never have I behaved like this—a creature that incites terror rather than a male of my training.
“Apologies,” I mutter.
She gives me an odd look, and a contemplative expression suddenly crosses her face.
“And what of all of the horrible things that have been happening in my dreams these last several nights?”
“Not me,” I assure her. “Your dreams and reality are reacting to you and your current stress as it does among all humans.” I do not know how to tell her the entire truth of the matter when she seems so entirely ignorant of it, her memories restrained behind an impenetrable wall. Best to ease her into it rather than make her suffer an unnecessary shock that will set matters back further. “It calmed because you were calm.”
“I see,” she says, a range of emotions flickering across her face too swiftly for me to decipher. She drags back a handful of curls and sighs. “All right, well, come inside then… ah…” She flounders and looks at me for help.
“Gralius.” I do not even consider offering her anything less than my true name.
“Gralius,” she repeats softly, and something within the cold center of my chest warms and turns over. She gives a thoughtful nod and retreats through the door. “I am Naomi.”
Naomi.A beautiful name. For some reason, it recalls the sighing song from among the reaches inhabited by the spirits of air… but such observations are for beings far more poetic than I am.
Regardless, it suits her.
I wait until she walks further inside before following her through the door, all too aware of the way her eyes widen at how much my size fills the doorway and then the room itself. A terrible smell assaults my nose upon entering, and I look around for the source, my eyes falling upon a mess a short distance away. It is foul, but the witch is blissfully unaware of it, not wholly unexpected for one in her state. I immediately limit my sensory intake so that only the sweet perfume of her energetic body and that of her familiar are drawn into my body.
Pressing my wings in closer around me to minimize my appearance and not make her more uneasy than she is, I walk farther into the house and stop in front of a large couch that she gestures toward. Her cheeks darken as she sinks into a nearby chair and waits as I lower myself into my own seat.
“I think this may be more appropriate than my bedroom,” she replies.
My wings lift in an abbreviated shrug as I casually look around the room. Outside of the broken fragments of her dreamworld, I have never seen this room before. Not how it truly is. If this is a sign of her taste in décor, I find it quite soothing.
“It will not change anything when you pull me into your dream unless you can make certain not to bring me there.”
It is an unkind reminder, and I hate myself a little for it, especially when her eyes drop with embarrassment, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.
“Oh,” she sighs. “Yes, I suppose there is that. Sorry. I’m sure you’ve found yourself in there more often than you would like.”