Page 51 of All The Pretty Little Lies

Zaire's brow furrows, but he remains silent, giving me space to continue. I'm grateful for his patience, for the way he seems to understand my need to expel these haunting thoughts. I pause, gathering my thoughts. Zaire's hand finds mine. I flinch. He instantly releases my hand, searching my face.

“Shit, I wasn’t thinking,” he berates himself.

“Touch isn’t easy for me, but…I think I would like to try it again.”

Zaire nods, finding my hand again. His calloused fingers intertwine with my own. His touch sets off my fear response instantly. My eyes focus on our skin to skin connection, the panic ebbing a few moments later. I notice him exhale deeply.

“This is okay?”

“I think so.” It’s weird. Being touched, and not being repulsed by it. I settle into the feeling of his rough skin against mine.

His touch anchors me in a way I cannot explain. We settle back into our walk. The tide splashing on the beach, inches from my bare feet.

“Tell me more about your dream.”

"Last night, the dream was different," I admit, my voice trembling slightly. "The Shadow Man...he had a face. It was blurred, indistinct, but familiar somehow. And he wasn't just watching or chasing. He was..." I trail off, struggling to find the words.

"He was what, Vesper?" Zaire prompts gently, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of my hand.

I meet his gaze, finding comfort in the depths of his eyes. "He was reaching for you, Z. For Oscar, and Talon. Even Alex. He wanted me, but he wanted the four of you more.”

Zaire's brow furrows, his grip on my hand tightening slightly. "What do you mean he wanted us more?" he asks, his voice low and urgent.

I shake my head, frustration bubbling up inside me. "I don't know, Z. It's just...in the dream, he was reaching for you all, trying to drag you into the shadows. I could feel his desperation, his need to possess you." I shudder, the memory of the dreamcausing goosebumps to rise on my skin despite the warm evening air.

"It's just a nightmare, right?" I ask, hating how small and uncertain my voice sounds.

His expression is thoughtful, almost grave. "Nightmares can sometimes be reality-based, Vesper. Our subconscious has a way of processing trauma and fear, turning them into these vivid dreams."

A chill runs through me, despite the warmth of the evening. "What are you saying, Z?"

He sighs, running his free hand through his long, dark hair. "I'm saying that your experiences, the trauma you've endured. It's possible that your mind is trying to make sense of it all.”

My mind races, piecing together fragments of memories and dreams. "Do you think...could my nightmares help find the people who kidnapped me?" The words tumble out before I can stop them, hope and fear intertwining in my chest.

"They could," he admits. "Your subconscious might be holding onto details that your waking mind hasn't processed yet.”

Zaire's words echo in my mind, stirring up a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Could it really be possible? Are the answers we've been desperately seeking buried somewhere in the recesses of my subconscious? The idea is both thrilling and terrifying.

I close my eyes, trying to delve deeper into my memories. Flashes of shadowy figures and muffled voices dance at the edges of my consciousness, always just out of reach. It's like trying to grasp smoke: the harder I try, the more it slips away.

The frustration builds inside me, a knot of tension in my chest. I want so badly to remember, to piece together the fragments of my ordeal. To know who kidnapped me. Who stole from my body over and over again. Who has my eggs…andwhat they plan to do with them. My mind races, considering all the possibilities. There has to be a way to access those hidden corners of my mind, to shine a light on the darkness that's been haunting me.

I'm so lost in my thoughts, so focused on the internal labyrinth of my mind, that I don't notice the physical world around me. My foot catches on the edge of a tide pool, hidden beneath the sand and encroaching waves. I feel myself pitching forward, arms flailing as I brace for impact with the wet sand.

But the fall never comes. In an instant, Zaire's strong arms are around me, yanking me back against his chest. The sudden movement knocks the breath from my lungs, and I find myself pressed firmly against him, my back to his front.

Time seems to stand still as I register our position. The solid warmth of his chest against my back, his arms wrapped securely around my waist. I can feel the rapid rise and fall of his breathing, matching my own startled gasps.

"You okay?" Zaire's voice is low and husky in my ear, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine.

I nod, not trusting my voice just yet. The panic I expected to feel at such close contact doesn't come. Instead, I find myself relaxing into his embrace, feeling oddly safe and protected.

Slowly, I turn in his arms to face him, my hands coming to rest on his chest. His eyes search my face, concern clear in their depths. "I'm fine," I finally manage to say. "Just got lost in my head for a moment there."

Zaire's lips quirk into a small smile. "Dangerous place, that head of yours," he teases gently, but I can see the underlying worry in his expression.

I laugh softly, the sound surprising even me. "You have no idea," I reply, realizing that I'm still in his arms and making no move to unlock myself from his embrace.

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