Page 196 of The Delta's Rogue
“What would you like me to do with her tomorrow, Lowell?” Amara’s voice is almost mechanical, like it was after I erased her memories of me training Sarina.
I wonder how many times he’s told her this secret and then erased her memory of it.
“I’ll keep her by my side. She can be our backup secret weapon.”
“Crescent Lake will never know what hit them.” Life creeps back into Amara’s voice, like the slithering of the floor-length dresses she prefers to wear, and I can feel the smileI know she wears—the smile that looks sweet but hides a mouth of fangs and a mind of depravity.
My heart stops beating altogether as they leave the room. The spell freezing my entire body in place lifts, but I remain as motionless as possible on the bed. As unmoving as a statue.
The bomb they dropped on me prevents me from moving or forming coherent thoughts other than one: I have to warn Sebastian and Sarina.
They may be in Hawaii at the royal palace by now, but they’re the only ones I can contact. There’s no way they’ll let Sebastian’s pack—or former pack—face an attack without warning and without backup.
But I can’t reach out too soon. I need to wait, to be certain that Amara or Lyall won’t return to my room while I’m dreaming with Sarina and Sebastian.
They can’t know that I warned them.
Lyall can’t know that I heard his secret.
So I wait. I wait and wait and wait, as quiet as a mouse in my room.
The illusion I spin shows me sound asleep, but in reality, I’m wide awake. I pace the foot of my bed, wringing my hands in front of my stomach. I’m on alert, listening for even the slightest noise from the hallway, for any hint that someone might be approaching my room to check on me.
Minutes pass. Hours. I wait as long as I can, until the urge to spill my discovery is too powerful for me to resist. I wait until I’m certain everyone in the compound is asleep.
Then I make my move.
I position myself in the center of the bed, legs crossed and palms resting on my knees. Deep inhales of air through my nose fill my lungs, and I blow each one out between my lips. I speak no words. No spell is uttered by my tongue. I focus on the ring I gave to Sebastian—the only thing I have left of my family. I focus on my connection to it, on what it symbolizes to me, on the warmth I feel whenever I hold the shimmering, reddish gemstone in my hand.
I close my eyes, but instead of the vast nothingness of sleep, instead of the dark of my eyelids, I find myself in an enormous meadow. Wildflowers of every type and color stretch beyond the horizon, and in the center of it all is a bird.
With shimmering feathers in the brightest shades of blue and undertones of purple and pink, the bird is large enough to carry at least three grown adults. Much larger than the mountain bluebird it resembles.
I run to it and climb aboard, as I have so many times before in my dreams. This bird has met me on more than one occasion, even on nights when I’m not searching for another soul in the realm of sleep. It’s become a companion of sorts over the years, someone familiar to cling to when I’m trapped in a prison with no friends and no escape.
On the back of the massive bluebird, I soar away from my fantasy landscape and into the beyond, into the world of dreamers. I fly past swirling, spiraling nebulas of sleep. I follow the winding path of gold with veins of fire quartz connecting me to my ring and leading me to Sebastian’s or Sarina’s mind.
The air ripples through my long dark hair. It’s neither hot nor cold. It’s the perfect temperature, and it caresses and soothes my skin with its gentleness. The sun’s rays warm the silky-soft feathers of the bird, and the edges of those feathers tickle me, drawing out a smile even with anxiety filling me to the brim.
In these moments, when it’s the bird and me, I imagine I’m free. It’s been far too long—so long I don’t know the exact amount of time—since I’ve been anywhere other than the compound or the auction house. These reprieves with the bluebird are my only escape. They’re bittersweet and over too soon, but it’s all I have.
A nebula pulses with soft greens and blues. The path I follow leads me to it, and I slip into it with ease. There is no resistance, no barrier attempting to push me away or keep me out of this dream.
But the color is wrong. It’s not the color of Sarina’s dreams—the oranges and reds and pinks of a sunset—or Sebastian’s gray shades of a stormy night.
My bird circles as it descends, and I stare in wonder at the views stretching to the edges of this dream. Snow-capped mountains, clear blue skies, and evergreen trees as far as the eye can see, surrounding a large, flat area that overlooks it all. A single, solitary figure stands there, with his arms crossed as he gazes out at the beautiful scenery.
It’s not Sarina or Sebastian. It’s one of their friends. The grumpy, unmated one with eyes the color of the sharpest, shiniest silver blade, who was with Sebastian at the auction. The one I saw in several of Sarina’s more recent memories.
Dominic.
My bird lands behind him, and I dismount by sliding down its wing. As I dart towards him, he whirls around to face me, then backs up several steps before I reach him.
“What the—”
“Dominic!” On instinct, I reach for his hand.
He backs up another step, nostrils flaring and body angling away from mine. “How do you know my name? And how are you in my dream?”
