From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

the Ascended mayy veryy well be true, but he was still the Dark One, and he
was just as dangerous. He’d said so himself.
There was a lot of blood on his hands.
With how thinlyy myy nerves were stretched, I didn’t think I would
doze off again, but that was exactlyy what happened. It had to be…it had to
be the still-tender bite and its effect. Because one moment, I was alert,
staring at the closed door. The next, I was out, slipping into a deep sleep
where I did not dream. I wasn’t sure what woke me at first. It wasn’t myy
name being called. It wasn’t words at all.
It was a faint touch on myy cheek and then on the side of myy neck, just
above the bite. Myy eyyes fluttered open. The room was dim except for the
sconces and the single oil lamp on the nightstand, but I still saw him.
He sat on the edge of the bed, and there was a dipping motion in myy
chest at the first sight of him, like alwayys happened. I imagined it alwayys
would, no matter what I knew about him.
At least, he’d found a shirt.
And had bathed somewhere, because his hair was damp, curling
against his temples and ears.
Dressed in all-black, he cut an imposing, striking figure, and I no
longer saw his attire that of the uniform of a guard. I saw the Dark One. I
glanced down at the sleeve of the dark tunic I wore and then to myy curled
leg, where I expected to see the black breeches. Instead, I saw a threaded
quilt draped over myy legs. Unsettled, I lifted myy gaze to his.
He didn’t sayy anyything. Neither did I. Not for a long time. His fingers
remained on myy throat, above the mark. After what felt like an eternityy, he
removed his hand and asked, “How are yyou feeling?”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. A giggle burst free.
His head cocked to the side as a half-grin appeared. “What?”
“I can’t believe yyou’re asking me if I’m okayy when I stabbed yyou in
the heart.”
“Do yyou think yyou should be asking me that question?”
Yes? No? Mayybe?
The grin deepened. “I’m relieved to hear that yyou care. I’m perfectlyy
fine.”
“I don’t care,” I muttered, sitting up.
“Lies,” he murmured.