He kicked out, catching the bedpost with his foot and making the whole frame shudder.
“Antoine!” Sera pushed down on his wrists in an attempt to pin him to the mattress but it only made him struggle harder. She didn’t know what to do. Whatever he was dreaming about, he wanted to fight it and therefore he would fight her. He lashed out with his feet again, one tangling in the sheets and the other smashing hard into the black wooden bedpost. He roared, his fangs enormous, and rolled his eyes. Crimson irises flashed as brightly as coals.
Her blood chilled and sank to her toes.
The mahogany door burst open and she turned wide eyes on the intruder. Snow’s pale blue eyes were equally as large.
“Devil, female, cover yourself and release him. You are only doing more damage than good.” He tossed the words at her on a dark commanding snarl and stalked into the room, the muscles of his broad bare torso shifting with each step, long legs tightly encased in black jeans.
Sera instantly grabbed the sheets, pulled them around herself, slipped off the bed and stood. Snow rounded the foot of the bed to the side opposite her, furthest from the door, his bare feet silent on the wooden floorboards, his gaze on his brother were he lay naked on the mattress, still tossing and turning. She kept her distance from Snow, torn between remaining near Antoine in case he needed her and maintaining a head start in case Snow turned violent.
Could she leave Antoine with him if he did?
No. She knew the answer to that question without even needing to think about it. She would protect Antoine no matter the risk. He had suffered enough for several lifetimes. She couldn’t let Snow hurt him. She wouldn’t let anyone hurt him.
“Is it bloodlust?” Those words trembled in the air between them for long seconds before Snow finally looked at her and shook his head.
“Just a nightmare, but not the sort I would recommend interrupting.” Snow placed his hand on Antoine’s forehead, his large palm and fingers easily spanning it. “Shh, Brother. All is well.”
Amazingly, Antoine’s movements began to calm, growing weaker with each second that Snow stroked his forehead. There was love in that touch, deep affection that showed on Snow’s handsome face and shone in his icy eyes.
Snow’s pale gaze shifted down to the scars on his brother’s body and Sera caught the flicker of guilt that crossed his expression. There was pain in it too. Antoine had said that Snow didn’t remember much about the night he had attacked him and killed the rest of their family, but he knew what he had done. Antoine struggled to cope with the things that had happened, the scars a constant reminder that he couldn’t escape. Those scars were not only a terrible reminder for Antoine but for Snow too. How did he feel whenever he saw them, knowing that he had created them and had tried to kill his brother?
The pain crossing his expression as his gaze flickered over them was deep, fathomless, and he radiated clashing emotions of hatred and hurt. Sera felt sorry for him as she watched him struggling against his feelings. She couldn’t imagine how terrible he felt, how responsible and guilty.
“He told me what happened.” Although she whispered it, it came out sounding loud. Snow didn’t look at her. His mouth quirked into a grim smile and his eyes roamed back to Antoine’s face.
“Telling her our dark bedtime stories now are we? That isn’t like you. She must be getting under your skin.” Snow hunkered down close to Antoine and continued to caress his forehead. Antoine’s movements halted and his breathing turned heavy. Snow carefully lifted his left eyelid.
Pale beautiful blue irises.
Antoine had said she had some magic in her but Snow was the real fae here. He could soothe his brother even when he was sleeping, something she had failed to do.
“It would explain the nightmare.” Snow frowned at Antoine and shifted his hand to his cheek, softly stroking it. It was strange to see such a lethal, dangerous man being so tender. It soothed her fear and left her feeling that she was seeing the other side of Snow, the man he was when the bloodlust wasn’t riding him. She could understand the depth of Antoine’s love for Snow now and why he desperately wanted to save him, because she could see the endless depth of Snow’s love for him. “He hasn’t told anyone before.”
“I know.” She still felt awed and honoured by that.
“He must like you.” Snow smiled again but there was sorrow in it now and she recalled what Antoine had told her about him. He had asked Antoine to kill him. It wasn’t sorrow for his brother. It was sorrow for himself and the things he had done, and it was laced with an edge of finality and a sense of relief.