Page 59 of Forging Darkness

He tilts his head in agreement. “Even so, you need to wear this.”

I want to argue, but I also want to remain safe. Safety wins out over the minute possibility of contracting Fallen cooties.

I shake out of his grasp but leave the bracelet in place. Thorne nods his approval. “Now that’s settled, let’s get you comfortable in your new accommodations.”

Chapter Nineteen

Thorne takes me to an equally lavish and white-washed room a floor beneath his. It’s equipped with a huge bed, crystal chandelier, working fireplace, en suite bath, and iron-barred windows. I clean myself—glad to have found more pants and a sturdy pair of boots in this room, even if all the clothes are still white or silver—and go about re-building my armory of weapons, this time with more discretion. Nothing says “I’m hiding sharp objects” like a conspicuously trashed room.

I tell myself I won’t fall asleep, but it’s been an eternity since I’ve had proper rest. Sitting on the soft mattress, I prop myself up against the headboard. I stare at the door, convinced I’m only giving my muscles a rest.

Each time my lids close, it’s that much harder to get them back open. The slow blink and fluttering of lashes is my last clear memory before I’m swept away.

I don’t immediately recognize that I’m in a dream. At first I’m simply disoriented.

Turning in a slow circle, there’s only fog, fog, and more fog in each direction. Opening my mouth, I try to yell a greeting into the void only to find my voice not working. Sound is as elusive as sight in this strange place.

As I debate what level of freak-out I should be ascending to, the world around me begins to take shape. A desk appears—Sable’s desk. The Book of Seraph is flipped open to the eighth chapter. I scan the text, unable to read any of the words at first, until my gaze snags on verse twenty-eight. The wavy letters start to take shape until I’m able to read.

“The powers of the halflings varied greatly in both strength and ability. Some gained wings and the gift of flight, able to soar above their enemies. Yet others developed an aptitude in controlling one or more of the elements, causing flowers to bloom or a storm to descend with a single command. And a chosen few carried the fire of angels in their souls. And to them was given the power not only to burn through the materials of this world, but to the innermost parts of a living creature.”

The innermost parts of a living creature? Is that just a nice way to say fire can char through flesh? Because if so . . . duh.

Peals of laughter echo from somewhere outside Sable’s office. Forgetting the ancient tome resting on her desk, I rush to the door, throwing it open. I sprint down the hall, pulled in the direction of merriment, and skid to a halt in front of my history classroom.

The door is ajar, and through the crack I see students seated in the back corner of the room, their desks pushed together in a circle. Limbs hang over the backs of chairs and arms rest on desktops. The door is silent when I nudge it open and slip into the room.

No one notices me standing motionless in the entrance.

With the exception of Tinkle, they’re all there: Nova and Ash have their heads tilted together as Ash whispers something in Nova’s ear. Nova’s laughter bursts through the din, deep and throaty. Sterling chucks a wadded up piece of paper at the pair, which Nova swats out of the air before it connects with her face. Greyson nudges his brother, either to say, “cut it out” or “good job,” I can’t tell.

And with his back to me—legs stretched out in front of him, one arm slung over the back of his chair, head slightly tilted—is Steel.

This can’t be real. I know it can’t, but the emotion that clogs my throat is authentic. My eyes start to tear, and I blink rapidly to clear my vision. A small sound of distress hiccups out of my throat.

Dream Steel drums his fingers on the tabletop next to him, but when the noise leaves me, his fingers freeze. His whole body tenses as he slowly swivels his head to check behind him.

When our eyes connect, it’s clear he can see me. He’s out of his chair and striding toward me in a flash. I open my mouth to speak, but before any words can emerge his arms wrap around my back and he’s crushing me to his chest.

“You’re here.” He whispers the simple words against the side of my head, his breath skimming over the shell of my ear. I shiver.

Pulling back only far enough to check my face, he raises a hand and cups my cheek before rubbing a thumb against my jaw. My gaze drops lazily to his mouth, remembering that last kiss that was stolen from us. I may not have all my feelings toward this boy sorted, but there’s no denying the attraction is there.

“So soft. I can almost believe this is real.” He stares at me like he’s trying to memorize every angle of my face.

I tip forward a fraction, hyper-focused on his lips.

Almost. There.

“Where are you?” he whispers, his lips feathering over mine.

“Who cares?” I answer. We’re in a dream after all. Does anything in the real world really matter right now?

“I can’t find you. You’re trusting me to, and I’m failing.”

Maybe an answer will shut Dream Steel up. My arms wind around his neck while I say, “I’m in a Forsaken compound somewhere in Canada.”

Dream Steel rears back. “What?”

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