Azriel almost dreaded falling asleep most nights. He knew every time he did, it would be the 50-50 chance that his dreams would turn to nightmares. The image of his "brothers" pouring the burning oil on his hands, his screams. He'd wake up in cold sweats, and his scars would ache, like they had a memory of their own.

Tonight was no different. Even with you beside him. Your warm curves and calming presence didn't make them go away. He gasped himself awake, his bodyband the sheets beneath him drenched in sweat, but he was shivering, his breathing ragged.