The Nightmare (The Mist Book 2)

Cool air over me pulled me out of the endless void where time and space had lost any meaning and in which I’d been roaming. I felt heavy, pinned down to the soft cushion beneath me by an invisible force. Although fairly warm, the wall of flesh around me constricted my sense of freedom in the most disturbing fashion. But its outer layer, that fragile tissue called skin, felt unpleasantly cold.

The silence of my ethereal senses crippled me. I hated not instantly perceiving the presence of others on a wide radius, even through walls. This feeble nose perceived no particular scent of either threat or ally. The only thing clearly tugging at me was the pull of my bride’s brand anchoring me.

I lifted my eyelids only to close them immediately as a blinding light stabbed at my overly sensitive eyes. I batted my eyelashes a few times while those stupid human eyes watered, further blurring the vision I was trying to clear. Eventually, the damn things settled allowing me to see the high, white ceiling of a large room. At first glance, it seemed similar to the one I’d entered the previous day.

Turning my head to the side, a strange sensation exploded in my chest at the sight of my woman, head bowed, reading something on an electronic device. I felt hot and cold all at once, a strange fire awakening in the pit of my stomach. I attempted to lift my head, but the wretched thing weighed a ton. I lay it back down and began to contract the numb muscles of my limbs, getting them to awaken for the first time.