The Sleeper and the Silverblood
The Long-Term Effects

After a long and unexpected discussion with Baylen, Storm and Kitara had gone to sleep. A groan woke Kitara sometime later, along with a grip on her arm bordering on painful. She rolled over. In the light of the enormous moon coming through the window, Storm’s forehead beaded with sweat. A tortured expression marred his handsome face.

A nightmare.

Gently grasping his fingers with one hand and cupping his jaw with the other, Kitara tried to soothe him awake. “Storm.”

Another agonized sound in response squeezed her heart.

An arc of electricity looped over his hand, and she gritted her teeth as it burned against her skin. “Storm! Baby, wake up.”

With a startling abrupt movement, his free hand seized her wrist in a bruising grasp. He came awake gasping. His pupils dilated with fear, the silver irises gleaming.

“Storm!”

He released her and vaulted from the bed, eyes widening in horror. She sat up, on the verge of calling for the Healers.

“Kit,” he rasped, torn between disorientation and terror.

She rose slowly, fumbling for the switch of the lamp beside the bed.

The light that flooded the room worsened his expression. “Stars, Kit, your arm…”

She glanced down, maintaining a neutral expression at the sight of the blistered burns there. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine!” He ran shaking fingers through his sweat-dampened hair.

“…with practice, she could unmake the injuries as if they never existed in the first place…”

Absentmindedly, Kitara rested her opposite hand on her injured arm. Her eyes never leaving his, shadow curled around her fingers as she unmade the damage. Slowly lifting her fingers again, fresh, unmarked skin appeared beneath. “See? Fine.”

Storm exhaled a long, shuddering breath and slumped against the window. “I hurt you.”

“Not on purpose.”

“I didn’t even realize. Kit, I’m so sorry.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “It felt so real…”

Slowly, as though he might bolt, she crossed the room to him. Gently, Kitara touched a hand to his chest, ignoring how he stiffened beneath her fingers, how his heart hammered erratically beneath his skin. “Look at me.”

Slowly, he raised his eyes to hers again.

“This is real,” she murmured. “I am standing right here with you. We’re in Valëtyria—you’re standing in its moonlight as we speak. We are safe. You are safe. It’s just you and me here.”

Hesitantly, he grasped her hand where it rested over his heart.

“Will it help if you tell me about it?” she asked.

Storm’s expression crumpled, and he rubbed his closed eyes with his free hand. “Fuck, Kit—” He groaned, then buried his head in her shoulder as his terror gave way to grief.

“Storm—?”

They went to their knees on the floor together. Kitara held him in a silent embrace as he fought to get his emotions under control.

“Sorry,” he mumbled into her shoulder.

“Stop apologizing.”

He took a deep breath. “He didn’t just Fell me. He Felled you, my dad, the guys…my mom…I couldn’t stop him. No matter what I did, I couldn’t stop him. I felt so powerless—”

“You are the furthest thing from powerless,” she told him fiercely, cupping his face with her hand. “Captive is not the same thing as powerless. The kind of willpower it took to withstand what he did to you—even if you remained Felled, you’d still be one of the most powerful people I know.”

That prompted a hint of a smile. “Now you’re just lying to make me feel better.”

“No. I told you I’d never lie to you; I’m not about to start now.”

Slowly, his erratic heartbeat steadied. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

She smoothed his damp hair off his forehead. “You didn’t.”

He chuckled dryly. “No, I suppose you made it as though it never happened, didn’t you?”

Kitara nodded. “If I could make it as though all of it never happened, I would.”

“…some even said he could unmake memories…”

She’d focus on that another time.

“I love you,” he whispered hoarsely.

“As I love you. Come on.” She drew him to his feet as she stood. “Come back to bed.”

He sat gingerly on the edge of the mattress, watching her with a wary gazy when she didn’t join him immediately. “What are you doing?”

Kitara crossed the room to the door. “Locking the door,” she replied. “There are Healers just outside, you know.”

Despite his residual fear, heat flared in his eyes. “Kit, I don’t know…”

“We can go back to sleep,” she said, returning to stand before him. “If that’s what will help you most.”

Storm watched her but didn’t reply.

“Or,” she continued, moving forward until she stood between his legs. “I can remind you that we’re alive, that you’re whole, that we’re okay…” She bit her lip. “That we’re together, and nothing and no one will keep us apart.”

He hauled her forward, bringing her lips crashing down on his.

“Good choice,” Kitara murmured against his mouth. “I’ve missed you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured.

“I swear, if you don’t stop treating me like a breakable doll, I will hurt you,” she growled, relieved when he grinned.

“I guess I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Smart.”

Kitara pulled her shirt over her head, and his hands circled her bare waist. When she pressed a kiss to his throat, his arousal grew obvious beneath her. “Let me make the bad dreams go away,” she rasped against his skin.

“If this is how you make them go away, I should have them more often.” He sounded more like himself now.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” she echoed him, but she smiled.

A groan wrenched between Storm’s lips—one of desire this time—as Kitara rocked against him. She found the hem of his shirt and tugged it off. Piece by piece, the rest of their clothing followed, until nothing separated them but the air.

Kitara searched his expression, giving him the opportunity to take the lead if he needed it.

He didn’t.

Gripping her hips, Storm lifted her with a smooth motion. Without hesitation, she took him inside her, enveloping him with her heat.

More than the physical sensations, their intertwined bodies brought their mental bond back into sharp focus. The feeling of his aura weaving with hers, whole and strong, nearly brought tears to her eyes.

«I never want to lose you,» Storm said as they moved together.

«You won’t,» she promised, caressing his face. «I’ll always be right here.»

She rocked against him, taking his face in her hands and kissing him hard, determined to drive out the last of the demons tormenting him. Storm’s shoulders bunched and tensed as he gripped her tightly enough to bruise. Kitara wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him as they lost their senses together.

After, as they slowly came down from their zenith, Storm touched his forehead to hers. «I love you,» he said, the words heavy with emotion. «More than you can possibly know.»

«And I love you, always.»

When they woke again, cool-hued sunlight streamed through the windows. Kitara turned over to see Storm’s bright silver gaze on her.

“Morning,” she murmured. “How are you feeling?”

A shadow crossed his expression so quickly she thought she imagined it. “Better than I have historically.”

“How so?”

He sat up. “I had those nightmares some nights before I started staying in here. This is the first morning I haven’t wanted to hit something.”

“An improvement, then.”

“Definitely.”

A Healer stuck her head in the door. “Miss Vakrenade? You have a visitor.”

Relieved they’d remembered to dress again before going back to sleep, Kitara nodded. “Yeah, give me just a minute.”

“Of course.”

Kitara looked back at Storm as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Guess it’s a good thing I made you put your shirt back on.”

He smirked, a little of his characteristic cockiness peeking through. “To avoid traumatizing any hapless Healers? Or because you want me all to yourself?”

Feeling impish, Kitara stuck her tongue out at him. “I’d say both, but I already know I have you all to myself.”

He laughed then, and the door opened again.

Ilythia Avensäel walked in, silver hair gleaming. Gone now was the wheelchair, she walked in of her own volition, looking the picture of health wearing a modern blouse and jeans.

“Lady Avensäel,” Kitara said in surprise, rising from her seat on the edge of the bed.

The other woman snorted. “We’re going to have to work on the formality. I think ‘Ilythia’ is an acceptable start for my son’s soul bond, don’t you?”

Kitara flushed, trying not to think of her and Storm’s unexpected tryst last night and failing miserably. “Whatever you prefer.”

Ilythia’s silver gaze found Storm, still lying on the other side of the bed. “Can you give us a moment?”

That surprised them both, but her son nodded before turning to Kitara. “You want coffee?”

“Sure, that would be great.”

Storm’s eyes flickered back to his mother, then he kissed the tip of Kitara’s nose before pulling on a pair of shoes and disappearing into the hall.

The Myragnar sank into a chair with a heavy sigh. “Coffee?”

Kitara shrugged, knowing her preference for the drink baffled most immortals. “I like the taste.”

“Mm.” Ilythia laced her fingers in her lap, regarding Kitara with a thoughtful expression. “I figured it was time you and I had a conversation, now that there’s no immediate crisis to deal with.”

Kitara took a seat on the couch across from her. “Conversation about what?”

Ilythia almost laughed. “Any number of things. I thought I’d let you choose which questions you wanted answered first.”

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