Enzo's POV
I woke with my face pressed against the familiar hardness of Alaric's chest, my body damp with sweat, my lashes wet with tears I didn't remember shedding. My breathing came uneven, almost shaky, like the tail end of a storm I hadn't realized I'd been caught in.
Alaric's arms were wrapped around me, solid and unyielding, one hand cupping the back of my head as if he thought I might break apart if he let go. The scent of him cool, faintly metallic, but warm underneath wrapped around me like another blanket.
"What happened?" I asked
"You were talking I your sleep," he murmured, his voice low but cutting through the haze in my head. "Crying. Begging your father to stop. You kept apologizing to him."
The words landed like stones in my stomach. I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn't want to know exactly what I'd said, but I could feel the edges of the dream clinging to me like cobwebs his voice, that shadowed room, my wrists aching from where rope bit into my skin.
