Corinne slept fitfully, with strange images flitting in and out of her dreams. When she woke, sometimes the healers were in the room with her, but most of the time there was only Dayan. There were times he lay beside her. Often he sat quietly holding her hand and staring lovingly down at her face. Other times she woke to the sound of his music, a soothing harmony of voice and guitar. She tried a few times to overcome the terrible lethargy that seemed to have invaded her body, but it was too much trouble and she closed her eyes time and time again with the image of Dayan filling her mind and heart. Strangely, she wasn’t afraid anymore, not for herself and not for her baby.
She had no idea how much time had passed before she managed to really wake up. She lay quietly taking inventory of her body. Corinne could hear her heart beating, as well as that of her child. She moved her hands protectively over the baby and murmured softly to the child, wondering if she could hear her. As she talked to her daughter, she looked around the beautiful room. It was full of treasures, from the artwork to the carvings on the high ceilings. The room was very large, the colors muted and elegant. The carvings looked like strange, beautiful hieroglyphics. Some of the symbols were soothing to her, while others made her heart pound if she stared at them too long.
Her hand moved over the thick quilt covering her. It was art too, a beautiful blend of colors with similar symbols woven into it. Each character was wide and clear, the surface smooth to the touch. She found her fingers continually seeking out the different symbols and tracing them carefully over and over.
She felt Dayan beside her, just lying quietly, his body wrapped protectively around hers. Corinne turned her head to find him watching her, his black gaze loving. There was so much tenderness there, so much emotion, he robbed her of breath. She smiled, her soft mouth curving as she lifted a hand to touch his face with gentle fingertips. “Hello,” she said softly. “Have you been waiting there long?”
“Several risings,” he answered honestly, shifting so that he could prop himself up on his elbow to better study her face.
“What are you doing?” she asked, slightly embarrassed by his close scrutiny. He was watching her with unblinking eyes.
“Memorizing your face,” he answered truthfully, his gaze drifting over every inch of her classic features. “I want to close my eyes and still be able to see you. I used to welcome daylight as a relief from the everpresent whisperings of darkness, yet now I resent those hours because I cannot be with you. I want to talk to you, just be silent beside you, look at you, reach out and touch you, know you are real and not some figment of my imagination.” He traced her mouth, her eyebrows, his thumb lingering on the corner of her lips. “I do not want to sleep anymore because I cannot take you with me.”
“Do you have to sleep away from me?” she asked, running her hand up and down his arm, needing to touch him almost as much as he needed to touch her.
He bent to brush a gentle kiss across the temptation of her mouth. “When I sleep, it is as if I am dead. I shut down my heart and lungs and do not breathe air. Our species does not have to seek the earth to sleep, and many of our people do not, but they sleep in chambers below ground where they are relatively safe from human hunters and accidents. Most of us do seek the rejuvenating sleep of the earth because it is safer and more natural to us. I would prefer to be beside you always, but it would be unsettling to you to wake and find me as if dead.”
“Not if I was expecting such a thing. Why are you so distressed, Dayan?” She pushed her fingers through his hair. “I’m beginning to be able to read you, and you are having a difficult time. If something is wrong, just tell me.”