Tears spill endlessly down Daela's cheeks now, hot tracks of salt burning against her skin. Her body aches in too many ways to count, but it's the crushing weight in her chest that steals her breath—her heart feels like a raw, open wound.
"I'm scared..." She whimpers again, grasping Drakar tightly, her fingernails digging crescents into his heated skin as she meets his dark, now lust-filled gaze.
"What are you so afraid of?"
Even now, Daela cannot bring herself to answer. Her throat closes around the words, swallowing them back down into the darkness where they belong.
A past already forgotten—perhaps speaking about it will manifest it into existence.
Late into the night, the fires have dimmed to glowing embers, but the pair needs no external source to keep them warm. Daela's exhausted body drifts off, muscles finally releasing their tension, and for the first time in a long time, the nightmare comes calling.
