Blasphemous Grace - Chapter 72

The warmth seeping into her did indeed calm her heart. But she could not help that a greater desire now raised its head.

Delonas exhaled a short breath, keenly aware of her heart thudding insistently in her ears. Still, she could not release the hand she held.

Ian smiled.

“Not yet, I see. Then, how about this?”

When Delonas turned to look, he inclined his head slightly, as if seeking permission to touch her. His other hand, the one not holding hers, extended toward her.

She nodded her consent.

Gently, he supported her beneath her knees.

And then.

Soft.

He pressed his lips tenderly to the back of the hand he still held.

“……!”

A tingling sensation raced through her entire body. It was nothing like the sensations that had been forcibly drawn from her before.

Her pounding heart seemed to grow even louder.

When, unbidden, her grip loosened slightly, Ian lowered her hand gently and lifted her into his arms.

“!”

Delonas’s eyes widened as he laid her upon the bed.

The plush mattress embraced her back.

Was he leaving now?

Anxiety crept into her gaze as she looked up at him—but Ian simply lay down beside her.

“……Ian?”

She was glad he had not gone, of course. But he was a man with not a moment to spare.

“I have a little time to set Delonas at ease.”

He drew the soft blanket up to her shoulders, tucking it carefully around her.

“May I come in as well?”

And then he asked, of all things.

“Of course.”

After laying her down, the formality of it. But his carefulness did not displease her, and Delonas found herself smiling softly.

Beside her, the man lifted the blanket and slipped beneath it.

Though a small space remained between them, Delonas could clearly feel the warmth radiating from him.

Resting on his arm, facing her, Ian once more meticulously arranged her blanket.

“You have endured much,” he said.

Delonas flinched at the words.

It was a habitual flinch. And the memories that threatened to surface in its wake—Ian’s voice cut them short.

“I dare not tell you to pretend it never happened. Would that I could—nothing would please me more. And I will fill your life with so many good memories that those others will become merely the nightmares of a single night.”

His voice carried a complex mingling of sorrow and regret. But as if determined not to let the mood grow heavy, he carefully took her hand.

“I am going to erase those nightmares.”

So that you may never dream such dreams again.

So that only joyful moments may stand before you.

So that the black things in your mind may become but tiny specks, then fade, then vanish entirely.

With all that I am, I will help you.

He held Delonas’s hand tightly.

“You need not wait in anxiety. You need not fear your dreams.”

Lekia had forced her to dream no good dreams, but that was no longer the case.

He possessed the divine power of the God of Dreams—power so potent that Lekia could not compare.

“I will give you good dreams, Delonas.”

He longed to wrap his arms around her. To encircle her shoulders, to curve about her waist, to let his warmth lull her to sleep. But he could not know what memories his touch might summon. For her, there were still more painful memories than pleasant ones—especially those involving him.

—Tap. Tap.

Hoping to steady the rapid beating of her heart, he slowly patted the back of her hand. This, he thought, was as far as he could venture without startling her. And he was grateful to have been permitted even this much—to share his warmth.

“…….”

Delonas blinked slowly.

The warmth that seeped through the blanket, the gentle patting that seemed to keep time with her heartbeat—they weighed heavily upon her eyelids.

Since Beakin’s fall and her captivity in the temple, she had never once slept with her guard down. Days when she would startle at the slightest sound, at the rustle of a robe, when she would fear anyone who drew near—these flickered through her mind.

But.

“Think no dark thoughts. Sleep.”

A soothing voice, gentle warmth—they closed her eyes.

“…….”

Sleep came gradually.

So gradually that she could not be certain whether she had managed to whisper come back safely—whether the words had crossed her lips at all. Whether they had been spoken in dream or in waking.

“Thank you, Delonas.”