Chapter 25
There are places between waking and dreaming where messengers reside. It is here that we can often find the truth…
THE HIDDEN WORLD BY ALFRED REGENT
Mum sets a bowl of Onyx hot pot in front of me. “There you go, luv, just the way you like it.”
“Thanks, Mum, but you didn’t have to.”
She strokes my hair and presses a kiss to my temple. “I wanted to.”
This is my favorite time of day, when the late afternoon sun paints the kitchen in warm hues of copper and gold, and the world feels like a safe place.
But Mother looks tired and drawn. The pretty yellow-and-pink scarf covering her sparse, patchy hair looks stark against her waxy, sallow skin.
I want to wrap her in cotton wool and keep her forever. My eyes grow hot, and I drop my gaze to the food.
“It smells delicious.” I eat, swallowing past the crush of emotion in my throat. “Are you having some?”
“Maybe later.”
She pulls out a chair and joins me at the dining table. “You’ll be all right, you know, Maya. You won’t have to worry about a thing.”
The food turns to ash in my mouth. “I don’t care about money, Mum. I don’t want it. I’d give up everything if it meant I could keep you.”
Her sigh is filled with the weight of the world. “There are many things we can control, but death is not one of them. I’m tired, sweetheart. I’m ready. I need you to be, too.”
She wants me to tell her it’s okay. She wants me to say the words that will release her, but I can’t. I can’t let her go. Not yet. Not—
A shadow falls across the room, blocking out the sunlight streaming in from the windows. “What’s happening?” I look to Mother, but she’s gone. “Mother? Mother, where are you?” This isn’t how it goes. This isn’t right.
A huge bird flies into the room, inky black wings snapping closed as it lands on the table. A rook. I’ve seen them in the park, but this one is larger, and its beady eyes are filled with intelligence.
A man’s voice invades my mind. “You have to see. You have to know.”
“What? No. This is my dream. Bring her back! Bring my mother ba—”
My house vanishes, and I’m in a forest clearing, standing outside a circle made of flowers and toadstools that gleam in the moonlight.
What is this place?
The rook lands in the circle and caws loudly at me, calling me to join it, but an insistent tug in my chest takes me back to my room.
I’m by the window, looking out into the night.
Who is that in my bed? I tiptoe closer, then rear back at the sight of myself. I’m in the bed, but I’m also…not.
“See. You have to see. Keep going.”
The bedroom vanishes and I’m outside, standing by the pavilion, where an awful sense of dread overcomes me.
I don’t want to be here.
I want to wake up. Now!
The pavilion disappears, and I’m in an aisle of books.
A library? The plaque on the bookcase says Botanics.
Why am I here? A leather-bound book on the shelf opposite me begins to glow.
Numbers flash in my mind. Classification numbers.
A shadow falls over me again, its cold touch saturated with menace and malevolence. Someone is coming.
I have to run.
I have to run now!
But my feet are rooted to the ground as a hooded figure appears at the end of the aisle. I know instinctively that it means to harm me.
It drifts closer. Floating. Gliding. I’m trapped.
* * *
No. “NO!”
“Wake up!” Fingers bit into my skin, and I was shaken roughly. “Anamaya, wake up!”
Vitra had me by the shoulders, his wet face a mask of concern. His hair was plastered to his skull, soaked with rain. Ice-cold pellets beat against my skin.
“What…”
“You were sleepwalking,” he said over the roar of the storm.
Words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. “You’re not supposed to wake a sleepwalker.” Why had I said that? I was fucking sleepwalking, and I was outside in the rain.
“You were about to jump to your death.” A crack of lightning lit the night, illuminating the port walkway attached to Bramble.
“Oh… Oh shit.”
He hauled me to his warm, wet chest. “Let’s get you inside.”
I was numb, chilled to the bone, desperate for heat, so I clung to him as he led me through the halls, my mind attempting to grasp at the remnants of my dream, but it slipped away like mist through my fingers.
I barely registered where we were headed until Vitra ushered me into a large room decorated in shades of brown with maroon accents.
The details faded beneath the sensation of the plush carpet under my bare feet.
He led me into a bedroom and attempted to pull away, but I reached for him, an involuntary sound of protest spilling from my lips.
His tawny eyes brightened, nostrils flaring delicately.
“I’ll be back with towels,” he said.
I stood shivering and dripping on a patterned rug that looked expensive.
This was his bedroom. This strange domed room with its minimalist décor, plain beige walls, no personal items on the dresser, and no tapestries or paintings on the wall.
No clues about the man beneath the enigmatic mask.
Nothing except the huge, round bed piled with pillows, dominating the space.
Vitra valued a comfortable night’s sleep. Naked? No. No, do not think of that.
He returned with towels and wrapped the largest one around me, then covered my hair with the smaller one before patting and rubbing to dry it.
He was still beaded with rain, dark eyelashes wet and clinging together. “You’re soaked too.”
“I’m fine. You could catch a chill.”
“And you won’t?”
“I haven’t been sick a day in my life.”
“Naga power?”
One of his dark eyebrows lifted. “Something like that.”
My teeth began to chatter, and he cursed softly under his breath. “We need to take your clothes off.”
“We?” I tried for a teasing smile, but my chattering teeth ruined my effort.
He pursed his lips, eyes darkening slightly.
“You need to take your clothes off.” He broke away from me, and I bit back a sigh of protest as he ducked through a door to my left.
He returned moments later with a bundle of clothes.
“Put these on. I’ll make you a hot drink.
” He left again through the main door, closing it firmly behind him.
My shorts and undershirt clung to my skin, the bandages Darla had applied completely soaked.
I peeled off my clothes and dried off quickly, careful to dab around my bruised knee.
Whatever Darla had done seemed to have healed the worst of the damage, but I didn’t want to aggravate it.
I slipped on the clothes that Vitra had supplied—a loose shirt that came to mid-thigh and loose cotton trousers, which I rolled up so I wouldn’t trip on the hem.
There was also a knitted sweater that smelled of sandalwood. Had he worn it recently?
I inhaled the aroma greedily, then froze. What was I doing? This was so inappropriate. He had a girlfriend. Even though they might have some kind of open relationship thing going, I wasn’t about to get involved. Not that he’d asked me to. Would I, though, if he asked?
Dammit. Stop this train of thought right now.
None of this mattered. I had to get back to my room and sort out my wet bandages. I lifted my shirt to check them. Shit, was that blood? Only a little. Thankfully, Darla had left me with a jar of healing magic stuff.
Vitra was waiting in the sitting room and, once again, the details of the room escaped me because all I saw was him—all long limbs and sex appeal, dominating the leather armchair facing me.
He’d dried off and changed into an elegant black silk robe over loose black pants. My gaze zeroed in on his bare chest, on the ink that licked over his taut muscle to vanish beneath the fabric. His hair was still damp, but he’d raked it back. He looked slick and sexy, all lean muscle and power.
He nodded toward the steaming mug on the coffee table in front of him. “Sit and drink that.”
I parked myself on the sofa opposite him and picked up the drink. Tea. Strong. I took a sip. Sweet. Just the way I liked it.
“Do you sleepwalk often?” he asked.
“I’ve never sleepwalked before.”
“Hmm…”
“But I’m fine. It won’t happen again.”
“You can’t know that for sure.”
He had a point. “I’ll lock my door.”
He frowned. “You’re saying it wasn’t locked?”
“No, it was.” Dammit. “I guess sleepwalking me opened it.”
He mulled this over for a moment. “This is worrying, Anamaya.”
“Yeah, well, what can I do? Tie myself to the bed?”
Did his eyes light up at that, or was I imagining it?
“I have some cuffs I can loan you,” he said casually, as if he’d offered me a cup of sugar.
“If I can unlock a door, then I can unlock cuffs. And why do you have cuffs?”
He tipped his head to one side, his penetrating gaze boring into me. “Why do you think I have them, Anamaya?”
The way he said my name, savoring each syllable, ignited something in me that I didn’t want to address. “Oh…okay.”
This time the silence between us was all kinds of awkward as I tried desperately not to imagine being handcuffed to a bed with Vitra looming over me.
“What are you thinking, Anamaya?”
He did not need to know. “I’m wondering why you have to say my name like that.”
“Like what?”
Was he serious? The intense look on his face certainly was. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that I’ll have Pip lock the doors to the Unwoven quarters when you’re all asleep and unlock them for breakfast.” But his gaze, locked on my mouth, spoke of other thoughts.
Maybe he was imagining tying me to his bed.
My cheeks warmed, and his eyes darkened, lifting to meet mine.
The pulse in my throat throbbed thickly, making it suddenly a little harder to breathe.
He slow-blinked, releasing me from whatever this strange spell was.
“Let the other Unwoven know what’s happened. ”
I sipped my tea to mask my fluster. “So you’ve decided to be nice to me now?”
He canted his head. “When was I not nice, Miss Onyx?”
Miss Onyx again now, was it? Good. This was safer. “Earlier, when you threatened to fail me.”