I’m stronger than this.
A warrior.
I know how to fight now.
“Release me,” I said, my voice lacking the force I so desired.
“Impossible. You’re mine, Zaya. Look at me.” He grasped my chin and forced my gaze upward.
I closed my eyes, defying him to my last breath. “No.”
“Look at me,” he repeated, this time more sternly, and the subservient maid I kept buried deep within felt the overwhelming need to obey.
Don’t! I snapped at myself. This isn’t real. It’s all an illusion. Necros is dead.
This dream was Grigory’s fault. Had he just allowed me to leave, trusted me to handle my list, then maybe I’d be free of these constant nightmares.
Alas, no. He didn’t feel I was ready. And so, I was forever plagued by my mind.
“You’re not ready,” Necros said, reading my mind. “But you will be. Soon.”
I frowned.
Wait…
“Come on, Zay. Look at me.” The softened tone confused me. It sounded like Grigory, not Necros.
A trick? A way to convince me to face my nightmare head-on?
He swept his thumb across my bottom lip. “I want to see your eyes, little warrior. Are they blue tonight? Green? A pretty turquoise mix?” He pressed his mouth to the edge of mine, then whispered kisses across my jaw before meeting my ear. “Turquoise is my favorite color on you.”
I shivered for an entirely different reason now than before, the heat of his body seeping into mine and coaxing me into a false sense of safety.
Don’t do it, I told myself. It’s a trick. He’s not here.
Except, sometimes he did appear in my dreams. From my understanding, it was a side effect of his blood saving my life. It had connected us in a way I couldn’t explain or prepare for—a way I desperately longed to ignore. He acted as though he knew about the connection in our dreams but never spoke of it when we woke. Which left me unclear as to whether he really knew about them or if my mind had fabricated every stolen moment shared between us.
“Grigory?” I asked, uncertain.
“It’s me,” he promised, his nose skimming my cheekbone as he returned his f
orehead to mine. “Open your eyes, sweetheart.”
I stole a deep breath before daring to peek up at him and met a pair of dangerously seductive, dark eyes. “It’s really you.”
“I heard you screaming in your sleep,” he murmured, his touch moving to my cheek to cradle my face between his palms. “I’m sorry to intrude. It was this or bang on your door.”
“I prefer this,” I admitted. “But is it real?”
He shook his head. “Not really, no.”
“Necros was here.” I swallowed. “He’s always here.”
“He’s dead.”
“I know, but he…”
“He haunts you,” Grigory said. “Yes, I know.” He lifted his hand to my hair, his fingers gliding through the short blue strands. “I like this, Zay. It’s very you. Short, strong, and standing proud.”