Page 61 of Depraved
Sometimes nightmares chaseyou from dreams into reality.
Thomas Stone steps closer to me, his eyes turned completely wolfish. His face stays human, but his ears transform as his fangs descend. Next to me, Brittany appears, pointing at him and screaming. I try to run, but suddenly, I can’t move. I’m tied up. He grabs my hand, yanking it toward him, and then unfurls his tongue and licks the side of my index finger. “Mmmm. I think I’ll keep this one,” he murmurs. His face slides toward the other fingers, and his mouth opens, teeth gleaming as he bites down—
I jerk awake in the middle of the night, gasping, to find my hand asleep. It’s trapped underneath the pillow next to me, and Jonah’s rolled right on top of it, cutting off the circulation. I yank it out roughly, jostling him awake, and the whole bottom half of my arm screams at me.
Jonah cracks open one eye and asks, “What’s wrong?” Pre-dawn light paints his features a dull gray as I look back at him, then sit up to peer around us, still breathing hard, the fear of the dream and the pain in my hand still connected to my nightmare instead of reality.
Your hand just fell asleep, idiot,I scold myself.It’s just asleep. He’s not here.
I have to look around in order to prove that to myself, though.
The attic nest that Black built for me is utterly still and silent. Nothing is out of place. No shadows are moving, no golden eyes appear in the darkness. Thomas Stone has not come to take me away.
My clammy skin and ice-cold spine do not believe me. I have to fight not to tremble so violently that I’m knocking into Jonah as he sits up in bed.
“I … I was dreaming,” I shake my head, trying to clear it. But with the adrenaline still racing through my veins, I know I’m not getting back to sleep anytime soon. Instead, I work on jiggling my hand to get some feeling back into it—tiny pins and needles stabbing at me like the tips of imaginary teeth.
No. Not that. It’s not at all like that, Elena. Shut up.
I push the covers off my legs. “I’m gonna get up. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
Jonah, always the selfless sweetheart, offers, “I can get up too.”
There’s absolutely no reason for him to get up before dawn’s butt crack and be grumpy all day too, especially over something as stupid as a hand that fell asleep. “It’s four in the morning; just go back to sleep. I’m just gonna go grab some tea.”
My sweet beta stares at me a moment, and I paste on a fake smile and as placid an expression as I can manage.
He still looks a bit skeptical, but exhaustion is weighing him down. He yawns. “Okay, but if you change your mind, or you want to talk about things, just let me know.” He sinks back down onto his pillow, and his eyelashes flutter shut.
I slide carefully out of the oversize nesting bed so that I don’t jostle him, and then I grab my robe from the chair I left it on last night. I wrap the warm fluffy pink thing around me, the soft fuzz soothing my gooseflesh. I repeatedly open and close my aching hand, cursing myself for being so dumb.
I know what’s wrong.
I’m feeling vulnerable. I’d never say that aloud to Jonah, but it’s true. I have this niggling gut feeling that Thomas Stone didn’t crawl back to hide at home the way Black suspects.
It feels like his eyes are watching me from every shadowy corner.
It wouldn’t feel that way if Black was here. I wish the alpha had come back to Colorado with me. But he’d sent me home right after our insane, gravity-defying sexcapades two days ago.
In typical alpha fashion, he’d said, “I have a lead now. Those fuckers attacked you, and it’s not safe here anymore. You’re going home.”
No discussion was necessary because Black doesn’t discuss things.
God, I’d like to give him a black eye.
Then fuck him.
Then maybe punch him again.
He’d taken me to the airport, lathered up a couple elite noses with Vick’s VapoRub so my scent wouldn’t affect them, locked me in the rear bedroom of a private jet, and sent me home so he could go hunting a two-legged monster.
Now, it’s just a waiting game. Only, I’m not patient. And I don’t believe Stone Jr. is either. I know that Black thinks little Thomas is holed up somewhere, waiting to be chased, but intuition tells me that’s just not right. There’s something else going on. Something I just don’t see yet.
Meanwhile, I’m having all sorts of lovely visions. I didn’t sleep last night either.
When I make it down the stairs, I’m relieved to find I’m not the only one awake. If there’s one benefit of living in a mansion where alphas come and go all the time, it’s that alphas literally come and goall the time.
Pluto and Warcraft are seated at the counter when I walk into the kitchen. Pluto’s brown hair is a mess, and Warcraft’s Star Wars t-shirt is rumpled like he’s been wearing it for a couple days. They have the little trophy box Black sent home with me in front of them and are discussing it in low, hushed voices while Matthew, as pristine as always—even at four in the morning—makes their sandwiches.
