The Moonlit Curse

Ch 15: Daydreams and Nightmares

"Please..."

The rain pounded against the thin thatched roof. In the small attic, there was little to protect them from the sound of the storm. The drip, drip, drip, from a leak turned into a constant stream that filled a metal pot hours ago, now overflowing and soaking the floor in the corner of the loft through to the abandoned stable below. Lightning flashed outside, almost immediately followed by a boom of thunder that shook the entire building.

A woman lay among blood-stained sheets, her chest heaving as she struggled to keep her eyes open. She stared up at the one sent to kill her, and they stared right back. Voiceless. Faceless. Only a pair of glowing red eyes broke through the solid, featureless, black mass standing over the woman.

"Please," she begged again. There were no tears in her eyes, but there was conviction in her voice. "You don't have to do this."

Slowly, the assassin lowered themselves to kneel next to the bed and reached for the woman. Surprisingly gentle hands lifted Kiya from the bed and tucked her into his chest.

"I'm here, Kiya. I've got you. You're going to be alright."

The caress of his breath on her cheek made her tremble, and the way August's voice washed through her made her whole body relax and go warm. The strength of his arms around her and the smell of wood and leather soothed her rapid heartbeat and stemmed the tears flowing from her eyes. The palm of his hand brushed across her face, turning her eyes until they met his.

A beautiful shade of molten silver looked back with tender affection. His lips, just slightly parted, were dangerously close to hers. She craved for him to close that miniscule gap. To give her what she desired since the moment they met.

"Kiya..."

"Kiya!"

Kiya practically jumped out of her seat, blinking rapidly and looking wildly around at her surroundings. The stable loft vanished, and the bright main room of the Silverkeep inn came back. The rain pounding against the windows turned into a gentle snowfall. Passionate grey eyes were replaced by dark brown ones staring at her with a mix of impatience and worry.

Heat flooded her cheeks, and she looked back down at the unfinished report in front of her. "Your pen went dry," he pointed out.

So it had. With a sigh, Kiya got up to fill a bowl with water to clean out the pen for the second time that day.

"I get that reporting is a pain in the ass," Red continued. "But it shouldn't take even you this long. What's going on with you?"

"You already asked me that," she muttered.

Red reached out and placed his hand over hers, stopping her from disassembling the pen any further. "Kiya," he breathed. "Come on. It's just us. Forget the ranks, forget the orders, please just talk to me."

The urgency and the pain in his words plucked at the soft spot in her heart that she held for the man. For the only one she had that she could possibly consider family. She took a deep breath and sat back in her seat. "Forget the orders, huh?" she asked. "Promise this won't go on a report?"

"Not a word," he swore, replaced the cap of his pen and shoved his own papers away from him.

She took a minute to think about her answer. He wasn't going to leave her alone if she didn't tell him something. That something had to be either as close to the truth without entirely giving it away, or at least something he would believe.

The truth? What was the truth? The more she thought about it, the less she was sure about it. Tugging the silver mark from under her shirt and clinging to it to feel the warm—not burning—metal against her skin helped keep her grounded in reality. But it did nothing to soften the questioning voice in her head.