Page 2 of Blood Gift

1

Vanessa

It was always the same.Every night. I would go to bed telling myself it would be different, that I would sleep well, that nothing happening behind my eyelids was real.

It can’t hurt me.

But it felt real. I could taste the fear as it filled my mouth. I could smell my sweat—sour and pungent—as I waited for something to happen.

Anything.

Death or escape.

It didn’t matter to me at that point, after hearing what he wanted to do to me. After knowing how serious he was.

He wanted to hurt me. Make me scream in agony. Drain my power. Leave me dead. Not just dead, either. Torn to pieces, someplace public. I would be the crown jewel in his scheme. He had been waiting a long time for me.

It always came back, just as fresh and clear as if I were still there. In that terrible place that reeked of death and was always cold, always dark. Ruined. The way he wanted to ruin me.

I’d wake up with my heart racing fast enough to nauseate me. Drenched in cold sweat to the point where my sheets would be soaked in it.

I’d have to get up and change the bed before going back to sleep. Most of the time, I didn’t bother trying. What was the point when I would only revisit the same nightmare again and again?

It was the same one cold night in mid-October, when I wrapped myself in my silk robe and padded barefoot to the living room. The walk felt endless. Sometimes I thought about moving to another apartment, especially when I woke up in the middle of the night surrounded by nothing but space. Cold, empty space.

The city, stretching out beyond my window, was the same as ever. Only darker. I was sure there had to be a million stories out there, but nothing changed from where I stood.

I considered creating a thunderstorm to make things more interesting, but I might get in trouble for that. We weren’t supposed to affect the weather, even when we could.

Granted, I was the only witch I knew who was capable of controlling the elements, but it didn’t mean I got a free pass.

Wasn’t that what Mariya always told me?

I chuckled, shaking my head when I thought of her. As though I needed another nightmare to turn my attention to. But the only two people who’d ever dared tell me what to do were her and our mother, and I didn’t want to ruin an already bad mood by thinking about her. Not that Mother was all that bad anymore—ever since the kidnapping, she was clingier but less demanding. I could accept that.

The sound of footsteps wouldn’t have been welcome at any other time.

I liked my privacy, and I didn’t get a lot of it with Holden at my elbow all the time. Holden wasn’t even his real name—it was something ancient and Serbian, something practically unpronounceable to my New-York-born-and-bred tongue. He had invited me to call him Holden for short, only minutes after I woke him back in The Fold.

What a difference from my old life with Elias.

He frowned. “You’re having trouble sleeping again?”

I nodded. “I guess I don’t need to ask you that question.”

“It’s something I left behind a long time ago.” He looked out the window along with me, but left a healthy amount of space between us. “The same nightmare?”

“The same.”

I wished he didn’t know about it, but there wasn’t any going back from the night my screams sent him running to my room and kicking the door down, thinking someone was trying to kidnap me again.

He had no intention of letting what happened with Elias happen with him. I didn’t have a choice but to tell him about my dreams and let him know that he might hear screaming like that in the future—and he had ordered me to stop locking my door when I went to bed, so he wouldn’t have to kick it down again.

“Time will make it better.”

“That’s what you always say,” I murmured, turning my head to look at him. “But it’s been months.”

He frowned.

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