Rhyn uncurled from his position on the cold, wet ground. He hadn't meant to fall asleep and didn't expect ever to wake up, not with the magic tearing him apart. He looked around, disoriented. The magic in his blood had stabilized as it did when Hannah and the angel were around, yet he didn't see them.
When it didn't, she uncurled herself from the ball she was in.
Instantly the grinding of his teeth stopped, and his ragged breathing began to slow. He uncurled, and she withdrew her hand before he disappeared from the dream again. Even so, she wasn't able to shake the warmth of his magic flying up her arm and through her, reminding her of what it was like being near him when she was alive. Even the skin of a half-demon was smooth and warm. She used to resent the way his touch made her feel like she belonged to him, until she'd walked into the Caribbean knowing he might never touch her again.