5 Zayed

5

Zayed

I dreamt of emerald eyes and an endless sea of blood. The thick metal taste hovering in the air, salt of silent tears and the warmth of a small body pressed against mine with our hands covered in sticky blood.

A shift beside me woke me up with a gasp, my hand already fisting the hilt of the knife underneath the pillow. My chest heaved and sweat ran down my temple, my heart pounding in my ribs, my head throbbing with the headache. Taste of alcohol and muskiness of last night’s activity made me present.

The woman moved, her dark curls brushing over the arch of her spine as she hugged a pillow in her sleep, unaware that I was seconds away from hurting her. Harming her. The same person who had charmed her into the bed she was sleeping in.

Fuck. That was a close call.

I let go of the hilt and hid the dagger, its blade sharp enough to pierce any armor, in the nightstand drawer and leaned back on the headboard. I willed myself to calm down and passed a hand over my face.

Thankful