Page 34 of Somno Slave

My stomach twists hard enough to hurt. The handle bites cold against my palm when I grab it.

Something hot rises suddenly into my throat. Disgust.

At Peter. At this unit. At myself for standing behind that glass and watching it happen.

My fingers tighten harder around the handle.

Leave.

But my body won’t move.

Because underneath the horror, underneath the nausea crawling through me, something worse has already rooted itself there.

Him.

The stillness of him. The silence. The impossible composure while they beat him bloody. I hate that my mind keeps returning to it. Hate it enough that my chest physically hurts.

He should disgust me completely.

He does disgust me.

And yet—I can still see his face perfectly.

The split in his lip. The dark curls hanging over his eyes. The way he looked at absolutely nothing while Peter hit him.

Something cold moves slowly through my stomach.

Fear. Real fear this time.

I should walk out now and never come back.

I know that.

But leaving now feels too much like losing, and I have so many questions that need answering.

Chapter Twelve

Deogal

She is quieter when she sleeps.

I watch the rhythm that doesn’t stop just because her eyes are closed. The slow drag of breath in her chest; small, unconscious shifts that pull the sheets tighter around her body, the faint tension that never quite leaves her face, even now.

She’s laying on her stomach, duvet just above her hips. Her soft pink t-shirt rides up slightly, exposing milky flesh. It’s only a small glimpse but it’s enough to make me sweat.

My gaze drags over her without permission. The line of her throat where it disappears into shadow. The way her hair has fallen across her face, uneven. The slight part of her lips, shaping the air as it leaves her...

My hand lifts before I decide to move it. I hold it there, just above the back of her neck, close enough to feel the heat of her without touching. I nudge her hair aside until more of her skin is exposed. She’s softer than I expect. Hotter.

I keep my finger pressed to the nape of her neck, staying light at first. My touch trails slowly downward, following the line of her spine, learning where she gives. Each vertebra a point of entry.

She shifts faintly beneath me. Not waking. Just... responding.

I make it halfway before the soft sound leaves her. An exhale.

It settles into the space between us, brief but unmistakable.

My body stills with it.