Page 120 of Forging Darkness

He looks down at himself, as if just now noticing his bareness. “I’m not naked. Here, look.”

He starts to lift the covers off himself, and I tumble from the bed in my last attempt to shield my face. Steel’s dark chuckle fills the small space. He rustles around and then calls to me.

“Come on back up. I’m covered now.”

I peek over the top of the bed, my gaze landing on Steel in the darkened room. His long-sleeved shirt is back in place and he’s also wearing a pair of jeans. Most likely one of his brothers’, because they look a little tight—not that I mind. I drag my eyes from his lower half and meet his gaze.

“Since you’re not going to let me sleep anymore,” he says. “We should talk.”

Clearing my throat, I lower myself back to the bed. Legs crossed as I face him.

Leaning over, he flicks a switch and a lamp bolted to the wall turns on. The bulb is dim, but with our Neph eyesight, it’s more than enough light to see by.

“Your dreams,” I prompt.

“Right.”

Steel rubs the back of his neck, looking nervous. It’s not a look I see on him often, but I find it oddly endearing. Leaning forward, I brush my fingers over the top of his hand, wanting him to know I’m a safe person for him to talk to.

“Before I start, I want you to know that I’m not sure what any of this means, or how it’s even possible. I haven’t told anyone else.” He gives me a pointed look that I take to mean he’d like this conversation to stay between us.

I nod my acceptance and it seems as if a drop of tension leaves his body.

“The visions started before we ever met. I’ve told you that part before. They weren’t clear at first. Just snippets of an ethereal being. I found myself looking forward to the night in hopes I’d have another visit from this beautiful enchantress.” My cheeks warm, knowing that he’s talking about me. “The nights I dreamt about her—about you—I’d wake and the visions would fade. Holding onto them was like trying to keep water cupped in my hands. They’d linger for a moment, but then details would slip through my fingers.

“And then one day, we met. And I didn’t know it was you who visited me at night. I only knew I felt something for you that I didn’t want. A liability I couldn’t afford.”

Steel stares at the blank wall across from us as the confession pours from his mouth. I try to ignore the prick of sadness his words cause.

“The day you morphed, when you saved me from the Forsaken in the alley, I thought I was dreaming. You were as real to me that day as you were when I was sleeping. My golden siren. It was only after I kissed you that I realized the truth. That it was you all along. That you were flesh and blood along with beauty incarnate and that . . .” Steel pauses. His chest heaves, but he forces himself to meet my eyes. “That terrified me like almost nothing in this world ever has. My desire for you was a palpable thing and so I did what I could to destroy it.”

He took a good shot at it. Looking back at those days, I can still feel the hurt and rejection I’d experienced with a single glance.

My mouth is dry, and a lump lodges in my throat. “But . . . why?”

He shoves a hand through his hair, but I know this time that the frustration is directed at himself.

“Stupidity mostly. I thought I was protecting my family by staying away from you. I thought I was protecting myself. But it wasn’t only that. After your first morph, the dreams started to change. They got dark. I’d lose you in thick fog. You’d cry out for me to save you. And then you’d cry out for me to . . . to kill you. Eventually I convinced myself staying away—pushing you away—would also protect you.”

I cross my arms, an involuntary move to protect myself. He doesn’t mean it, but these words pick at scars that haven’t fully healed.

Seeing my rigid stance, Steel plows on. “You have to understand, these dreams—nightmares really—didn’t just scare me, they terrified me on a physical level. They were so real, I’d wake from them in cold sweats. Vomiting at times when I dreamt of hurting you.”

“How would you hurt me?”

“When you begged for me to kill you, sometimes I’d look down and my hands would be covered in blood. Your blood. I’d have buried a dagger in your gut. And the look in your eyes when that happened . . .” Steel’s body is reacting from just talking about these visions. His breaths release in quick puffs and small beads of sweat form on his brow.

Concern for Steel overrides my wounds. “Hey, look at me.” His gaze reluctantly swings to mine. “I’m right here. You haven’t physically hurt me. You would never do that.”

“That’s not all. In the last few weeks, it wasn’t just the two of us in these visions. After I stabbed you, someone would come and take you from me.” He pauses, clearly not wanting to say the next part. “It was Thorne. That’s how I recognized him at Whitehold.”

I search for an explanation, coming up with one quickly. “I told you about Thorne when I pulled you and everyone else into that dreamscape. Your mind must have formed an image of him from my description. Our brains do a lot of wacky things when we’re sleeping.”

He shakes his head. “No. Thorne first appeared weeks before you were even taken. I saw him in my dreams after I left the academy on my hunt for Silver.”

I want to dismiss Steel’s dreams because they’re so disturbing, but how can I ignore that he first laid eyes on me and then Thorne before he actually met us? Could this be a dormant power of his? To be able to see glimpses of the future?

“Is there some sort of angel ability that could explain what’s happening to you?”

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