IZEL

I was fully aware of the Slayer's eyes on me as I played with my new fluffy, golden-furred companion, but when I looked at him he didn't even bother to look away. Our eyes made contact and I had to force myself not to look away.

"Why are you looking at me?" I asked.

"Why not?"

"Am I so pretty you can't take my eyes off of me?"

He grinned, then stopped as if he didn't mean to. "Don't flatter yourself, Izzy, there's nothing else to watch in here."

"Watch yourself."

"Why would I do that when I can watch a vile animal and its pretty pet."

My brows scrunched. It took me a second to get the comment, but when I did I snarled, "you're not funny."

He chuckled, "I happen to think I am."

"Think again."

He grinned again, leaning forward and resting his chin against a fist, "are you offended?"

I scoffed, "you wish." But I was, just a little, which was weird because I had never been offended by anything the Slayer said because I didn't care about his opinion, so why did I feel bitter all of a sudden? I couldn't deny that it was a witty comment, but I couldn't deny my slight resentment either.

His grin widened, and I inwardly cursed myself for failing to keep my face impassive. He could read my offence and was going to tease me so hard about it.

"Are you offended because I called the dog vile?" He asked. "Or because I called you a pet?"

It took me yet another second to get what he meant, but when I did my heart did a full flip in my chest. I forced myself to snarl again and say, "you're not funny."

He didn't answer, but neither did he look away. The intensity of his stare sent goosebumps across my skin, and it was hard to look away. He was looking at me like he either wanted to kill me or do something else I couldn't figure out.

"What are you looking at?" I finally asked, and he suddenly startled, blinking as if he had been unaware that he was watching me.

"Nothing," he said too quickly, looking at the dog now.

He clenched and unclenched his fists as if trying to stop himself from doing something. Killing me, most probably. He suddenly stood.

"I'm going to sleep—" he suddenly paused, his jaw clenched, and I realised why.

There was only one bed, and I wasn't going to sleep tied up to a chair like I had the first night. I had agreed to fight with him so tying me up was not an option.

The Slayer turned and faced me, then his gaze looked to the couch and then back to me. It wasn't near long enough to accommodate either of us and it was sure to give us a stiff neck, which wouldn't be acceptable because we both had to be in good shape in case we encountered more vampires. And neither of us could sleep on the floor because there was only one mattress and not enough blankets.

There was no way to compromise. 

As if reading my understanding of the situation, the Slayer gritted out, "Left or right?"

I sighed but said, "left," through clenched teeth.

The Slayer turned around and went to the right side of the bed. He immediately started removing his shirt.

My breath caught at the sight of his skin—his back and the way his muscles shifted with the movement—then he suddenly looked back at me, revealing his front. His skin was so clear, so beautifully brown, and his abs were so defined. So solid. So hot.

I immediately looked away, lifting a hand to block him from my view. "Can you keep your shirt on?"

"Does it distract you?" I could hear the amusement in his voice.

"No," I lied.

"Liar," he picked up.

"I'm not sleeping in the same bed as someone who's not fully clothed."

"Feel free to take the floor."

"And freeze? No thanks."

"Then you're going to have to deal with it."

I forced myself to look at him, at his face, not his body. "I swear, Slayer," I warned.

"Is that supposed to scare me?"

"I will stab you if you get into the bed shirtless," I threatened.

"I'm so scared," he mocked me with a grin, removing his shirt fully and getting into the blankets.

I sighed, "I hate you so much."

I could have sworn his grin faltered, but he said, "you know where the knives stay." I had to bite my tongue to stop from snickering and rolled my eyes instead. 

"I'm not going to sleep if you're half-naked."

The Slayer chuckled, but to my surprise, he put his shirt back on. He actually put it back on. It was a miracle that my jaw didn't drop open because, well, the gesture was nothing short of considerate. Or maybe he just knew I wouldn't stop annoying him until he put it back on but still.

"Put the dog between us," he said once his shirt was on, covering his annoyingly attractive body. "Face the wall, and I will too because I don't need you studying my face while I sleep."

"I wouldn't—!"

He suppressed his grin but cut me off when he said, "So long as you don't move around in your sleep, we won't need to worry about touching, because I know that is the last thing either of us wants."

I listened, only because he was right, the last thing I wanted was to touch him. I placed the dog in between us and, to my content, she didn't jump around, but only spun a few times before settling down. I got into the blankets afterwards, making sure to lie down as close to the edge as possible.

I knew sleep wasn't going to come easily tonight because my fight or flight reflex suddenly activated. I was close to a vampire and my body wanted me to flee so it started acting erratically like it had before. I felt a jittery feeling in my gut, my whole body was tingling and my heart was pulsating fiercely in my chest.

I just hoped the Slayer couldn't hear it, lest he mistook it for something it wasn't.

****

Sleep came faster than I expected it to, but I woke up sooner than I expected to. There was a tickling sensation on my face, and I opened my eyes to find I was no longer facing the wall, but the dog, and I was close enough to her that her golden fur was stroking my face. That was weird, how could something as simple as a tickle wake me up? That wasn't normal for me, I had always been a hard sleeper.

It was still dark outside and it looked like there was still a lot of time left until morning. I turned around, moving to the edge of the bed and facing the wall again. 

I closed my eyes to drift to sleep again, and it didn't take long before I felt myself being transported to—

The Slayer suddenly groaned, startling me awake. I inwardly cursed him, shutting my eyes again but then he groaned louder, shifting in the sheets. I forced myself to ignore it. I could sleep through noise, so I could ignore the Slayer's noises. I wondered why he didn't snore like a normal person, but then I remembered he wasn't normal. Maybe groaning was a vampire's way of snoring.

But then the Slayer suddenly began breathing harder, faster and his groans turned to moans, and then to sobs. I sat up and turned to him. The faint moonlight trickling through the window was enough for me to see him. He was lying on his back, but he kept tossing and turning, and sweat had formed between his scrunched brows. His hands were clenched around the sheets and his breathing was rapid. I could see the quick rising and falling of his chest with each breath. His eyes were frantically moving under his sockets and his lips were slightly pulled back.

He groaned again, louder this time, then his fists clenched tighter around the sheets and he shouted. Roared. Cried.

Oh, okay, this was serious.

"Slayer?" I called, shoving his shoulder to wake him, but he didn't budge. "Wake up!" 

The dog jumped off the bed, startled, and I leaned closer to the Slayer, placing both hands on his shoulders and shaking hard as I called his name.

But still nothing.

The Slayer's voice broke, his shouts coming out as cries, and each cry shattered something in my chest. I lifted one leg over his body and sat on top of him as I shook him, desperately trying to wake him.

"Slayer, it's just a dream. Wake up!" I sounded like I was pleading at this point, and I didn't know why I was so concerned. "Wake up!" Desperate, I hit his chest once. Twice. But he didn't stop crying out, didn't stop screaming, didn't stop dreaming.

I glanced at the door, afraid his shouts would attract vampires. I lifted my pillow to make sure my dagger was still under the pillow, just in case the Slayer didn't wake up.

And he wasn't waking up. 

My efforts weren't waking him. His cries were so desperate. He wanted to wake up, but couldn't.

"Wake up!"

"Izzy," he breathed my name once. Twice. And I thought that meant he was on the verge of waking up, but no. He remained asleep.

My eyes and throat burned and I found myself breathing as fast as he was for some reason. I knew what it was like to have nightmares like this, nightmares where you struggled to wake up and when you finally did you woke up in a fit of panic. I had nightmares like this for years after I lost my parents. 

Seeing someone else going through the same thing I went through broke me inside, even if that someone was the Slayer.

"It's just a dream," I cried, warm tears streaming down my cheeks. I didn't know why I was getting so emotional.

I shook him harder, faster, but that only tired me. I leaned down, my lips close enough to brush his ear.

"It's just a dream, Slayer," I whispered, but realised calling him Slayer might not help. 

I called him that out of spite, not wanting to develop a sense of familiarity with him, but now he needed to hear me, I needed to reach him. Not the Slayer, him. So I tried again, calling him by his real name. "It's just a dream, Jaeger." His name sounded foreign, but I liked it sounded on my lips so I said it again. "Wake up, please. Jaeger."

Slowly, ever so slowly his breathing softened, but he still wasn't awake. I leaned up to look at him, his expression had softened, but I needed him to wake up fully.

"Jaeger," I whispered, placing my palms against his cheeks. "Wake up."

His brows scrunched again, but then his eyes flew open and he gasped, "mother."

His brown eyes glimmered with unshed tears as they darted frantically around the room before finally landing on me.

Mother. He had been dreaming about his mother. He told me before that my kind, humans, had killed his parents, so he must have been reliving that memory. There was a sharp jab in my chest at the thought.

His breathing the longer he looked at me and he exhaled, "Izzy."

I suddenly forgot how to breathe, fully aware of just how close we were. My hands were on his cheeks and I was on top of him. 

I should have gotten off of him there and then, but I didn't move.

And he didn't move me.