Four-Letter Words by Evans, Gabrielle (top 10 books of all time .txt) 📗

“I can’t stay here,” he whispered, glancing toward the large window to the right of the headboard. He’d love nothing more than to curl up beside Thane and protect him until he was strong again. Unfortunately, his limitations prevented it. “The sun will be up soon.”

“Right.” His lips twitched at the corners, and he shook his head as though he found the information humorous. “You’re a vampire.” Removing Zasha’s hand from his chest, he rolled to his side and finally levered himself into a sitting position.

“Thane, what are you doing?” Anyone with eyes could see that every little movement caused him pain, and Zasha didn’t understand why Thane would put himself through that. If he’d survived half of what the witch had, he didn’t think he’d ever get out of bed again.

“Getting dressed so we can find a place for you to sleep,” Thane answered with a casual roll of his eyes as though the answer was obvious.

“There’s a room in the basement,” he assured his mate. “Torren said I can spend the day there.” He didn’t want to leave Thane so soon, but they both needed rest, and Zasha needed to not burn alive while he slept.

“Good.” Nodding once, Thane inched closer to the edge of the bed until his feet rested on the floor. “Let’s go.”

“Would you stop it?” Oh, Zasha could already see the arguments in his future. The gods help him and grant him patience because his mate was stubborn to a fault. “Listen to me.” He pressed his palm to the side of Thane’s neck with the same care he’d show to the most priceless treasure. “I promise to be back as soon as the sun sets. Okay? Now, will you please lie down and rest?”

Thane didn’t even hesitate in his answer. “Nope.” Taking Zasha’s hand, he pulled it away from his neck and placed a kiss in the middle of his palm. “Can you hand me those sweatpants on the dresser?”

“Thane.” The conversation was going nowhere fast, and Zasha didn’t know how to change directions.

“Zasha,” his mate mimicked with a raised eyebrow. “If you really want me to rest, I suggest you hand me those pants and help me down to the basement. Beside you is the only way I’m going to sleep.”

His expression said he was dead serious, and Zasha didn’t exactly want to be separated from the man, either. However, he also didn’t want to hinder Thane’s recovery. “Are you always like this?”

“Pretty much.” Thane nodded toward the dresser again. “And now I’m yours. Congratulations. Are you going to get those or not?”

Growling under his breath, Zasha stood and crossed the carpeted floor to retrieve the dark-blue sweatpants that were folded neatly on top of the dresser. “Torren is going to kill me.”

* * * *

The darkness surrounded him, pressed in on him from all sides. The frigid cold bit through the scraps of clothes he wore, chilling his damp skin. Water flowed through his prison, rising higher with each passing hour. Already it licked at his lips, and soon, it would cover his mouth and nose.

They were coming for him. He could hear the boots stomping over the sodden earth and feel the charge in the air. An ominous symphony of voices rose up on the breeze, and the chanting grew louder as his captors approached.

“Thane?”

Panic constricted the muscles in his chest, his pulse sped, and blood roared in his ears. “Zasha, run!” The voices grew louder, deadlier. They were almost there. Thane didn’t fear death, but he couldn’t let them harm his mate.

“Thane, I’m going to get you out. I’m going to help you.”

No one could help him, though. His Infinity had walked right into a trap, and if he didn’t go, they were both doomed. “Zasha, please.” His voice cracked with emotion and weakness. “You have to go. You can’t save me, but you can save yourself.”

The night grew still, quiet, and Thane found it more worrisome than the dark chanting of his foes. Peering out through his cell, he tried to warn his mate again, but even in the dim light of the moon, he knew it was too late.

Zasha’s eyes rounded, his lips parted in a silent cry, and his body convulsed, tipping him over the edge of the stone well. Tumbling head over feet, his limp body bounced against the hard walls before finally splashing lifelessly into the water. There he floated, facedown in the small pool, staining the icy water with his blood.

 

“Thane. Thane, wake up.”

Slender arms encircled his waist, holding him tightly as he trembled, struggling to crawl out of his dream world. Releasing a shuddering breath, he rolled to face his mate, pulling Zasha to his chest and crushing him close.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.” He buried his face in Zasha’s hair, breathing in the clean scent of his shampoo while he forced his muscles to relax. “You’re okay.”

“Yes,” Zasha whispered with a hint of concern, “I’m okay.” He leaned away and brushed the sweat-dampened locks back from Thane’s brow. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not right now.”

He’d been free of that watery prison for almost six weeks, but these nightmares had only begun in the past few nights. As his bond with Zasha grew, so did the intensity and frequency of his dreams. There were varying levels of terror associated with his nightmares, but more often than not, they left him shaky and disoriented for hours after he awoke. Worse, Thane had reason to suspect there were snippets of memories hidden within these dreamscapes.

“Are you sure?” Zasha pressed. “Was it a bad one?”

Thane could still envision Zasha tumbling down into that well, pale, limp, and unblinking. It had been awful, but while it made his blood run cold, he was confident that it was only a fabrication of his over-stressed mind. After all, his gifts didn’t include foresight, and he was thankful for it. He’d leave the prophecy gig to his brother, Nix.

“Just let me hold you for a little