Daughter of Nyx (Book Three)

Chapter Thirteen

Distantly, she was aware that she was screaming, shrieking, though the sound was muffled. Were her lips seared closed? The sound came from her, but was so far away.

It didn't matter, because everyone was gone.

No one could hear her as she died.

Pressure around her wrist now, tight and painful and she twisted to get away from it, but she couldn't move. There was a weight on her, keeping her still.

But... she was standing as they died...

Slowly, not trusting anything, much less the cool air, she stopped struggling.

The hand that was just short of breaking her wrist loosened a fraction and the other eased away from her mouth.

Cracking an eyelid, somehow, she wasn't surprised to see Draven hovering over her, hand and knees barely keeping him off her.

"Cry," he said and there was that deepness to his voice that once would have made her follow the instruction to the end of the world.

Only, she couldn't.

"It doesn't work that way," she said hoarsely and he let her sit up, scooting up by the headboard, and hugging her knees.

He said a word that she had never come from him and he took the wrist he was trying to break earlier and puller her to her feet. "What were you dreaming about?"

"I can't talk about it," she said.

She winced at the pressure on her arm and had little choice but to follow him to the bathroom. There he stopped her in front of the mirror. Hands on her shoulders, he turned her and she could see the deep rivulets marring her skin, gashes of deep red that ran from her eyes. Things she had done to herself as she witnessed the end of the world.

She turned away, fighting images of her nightmare. Crossing the room, she picked it the phone and dialed for room service. After what felt like forever, someone picked up.

"I'm in room 928 . I need a bottle of the single barrel. Thank you."

Fingers touched hers and Draven took the receiver from her hands. She sank into the chair and leaned her head back, watching Draven as he watched her. "Death. Everyone's death. Including yours, though I know it doesn't bother you. But when I say everyone, I mean, the world burned. Nyx died and the universe fell back into chaos." She waved her hand at her face. "These will heal."

"You had another attack, I was told."

"Anthony?"

"Trey."

"But he works for Elliot."

"Elliot wasn't awake when they came back. I inquired as to you and he informed me of the events of the day. How once again, hurting you was the only way to keep you there." He leaned forward, eyes so intent on her. "And then I come here, and I could hear you from the hallway. I was certain I would find someone doing what I did to you. Opening the door, there was only you, hurting yourself." There came a knock at the door and Draven held up his hand as she started to get up. "You may heal, but you haven't yet. You might scare the poor boy."

She relaxed back into the chair and let him take care of the bill.

After a minute, he pushed the cart to the side of the room and the ice sounded like heaven as it hit the glass. A few seconds later, she held the glass, staring at the whiskey. What should she toast? How should she bring up what she wanted to talk to him about? It was easier to imagine it when it wasn't real. But now he was there, sitting across from her, and the hair on her arms rose at the tension in the room.