Total pages in book: 222
Estimated words: 213974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1070(@200wpm)___ 856(@250wpm)___ 713(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 213974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1070(@200wpm)___ 856(@250wpm)___ 713(@300wpm)
“I don’t mean to.”
“It’s okay,” he assured me. “Just tell me why.”
I lifted a shoulder. At this moment, there were too many reasons. I went with the easiest one. “I thought I was going to be alone.”
“I’d never allow that—not awake or in my dreams. Never.” He drew the backs of his fingers over my other cheek. “Open your eyes for me.”
Taking a breath, I did as he requested. Tears clung to my lashes.
His gaze searched my face as intently as it did when he counted my freckles. Except there was an edge to how he traced every inch of it, almost frantically. The wisps of essence pulsed in his eyes and then calmed. “It’s odd.”
“What is?”
He caught another tear, and this time, I saw the faint smear of red staining his finger. “I’m dreaming.”
I thought it was strange how he spoke as if this were his dream. He’d done that last time, too, and I still couldn’t understand why my subconscious had him doing that. Something tugged at the back of my mind again. It was the same sensation I’d had the first time I dreamt of him. It was as if I should know why, but that didn’t make sense, and the feeling fluttered away as quickly as it came on.
“Yet I can still sense your emotions,” he continued. “You’re feeling so much—the woodsy, refreshing wash of relief, and the heavier, thicker weight of concern. There’s something…sweet in the midst of it all, too.” His brows knitted, and I wondered what the sweetness meant to him. “But there’s so much anguish—tangy, biting anguish.”
Another tremor went through me. “I’ve missed you.”
Ash smiled faintly, but it was closed-lipped and didn’t reach his eyes, didn’t turn the silver into warm sterling. “It’s more than that. I know it is.” The crease between his brows deepened. “My mind feels…disjointed. Unsettled. But I think I was awake for a period of time.” His jaw hardened. “I remember struggling against chains—ones I’d created. I remember hearing his voice.”
My breath snagged as shadows appeared beneath his flesh. “Kolis?” I flinched as I said his name.
The shadows darkened. “His. Others.” His hand glided over my cheek again as his stare bore into mine, and then his hand kept going, brushing back the curls from my shoulder, my neck. His gaze dropped.
I stiffened in his arms. Was he looking for the bite? Was it even visible in a dream? The injuries he’d seen last time hadn’t appeared until I was about to wake up.
His expression didn’t give away what he saw or didn’t. I had no idea why I would dream such a thing, but I hoped to whatever higher being was listening that he saw nothing.
“Tell me,” he said, his gaze returning to mine, but as he spoke, it was almost as if he didn’t see me. Like he saw the faces of those he’d heard when he was awake. “I remember hearing…”
“What?” I whispered, half-afraid of what my mind would cause him to say.
The distance retreated from his gaze. “Tell me what has been done to you.”
A spasm hit me. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
“Has he hurt you?” His eyes closed then, the skin creasing at their corners. When they reopened, they were bright. “I know he has.”
“What…what do you mean?”
“I remember what I saw in my last dream.” The shadows slid along his temple, throbbing and separating, almost forming a design of sorts. One that reminded me of the vines I saw on the doors of the throne room and the gods’ tunics—on Rhain’s tunic. “I remember what I heard. What Kyn said. What Kolis claimed. And you…you flinched when you spoke his name.”
I couldn’t breathe. There was no panic or crushing suffocation like when I was awake, but I couldn’t breathe. “Kyn?”
He nodded, his eyes flat. His skin was ice-cold, and the hand on my neck, where the bite mark would be, was steady. The arm around me was firm, but a storm of violence brewed beneath the surface when he got this still.
“Sera?”
I opened my mouth to answer but couldn’t get any words out. Not even a denial. It didn’t make sense. This was a dream. I could say anything. I could lie. I could tell the truth—one that wasn’t all that bad. Right? So many people had experienced worse than I had. The man I looked at, the one my mind had called forth from memories, had. But the thing crawling up my throat now wasn’t words. It was a scream that burned me as I fought it back. I didn’t even understand why. I was dreaming. I could scream if I wanted to.
But I didn’t want to.
I didn’t want to think about any of this.
Because I was me here, and I was her there.
“Sera,” he said quietly. “Please.”