When was the last time I saw light?
Felt warm?
Ate food?
“Three days,” Grigory replied, causing me to frown.
What?
“You were in that shithole for three days.” He sounded angry. Because I’d failed him? Because he hated me for killing Yakariah?
But I don’t even remember doing it, I thought. Not that he could really hear me. This was all some convoluted nightmare made worse by the realistic quality of it.
“Open your eyes, Zaya.”
No. I refused to open my eyes.
“Fine. Then tell me about Yakariah.” His palm met my cheek, his minty scent surrounding me. “Why did you kill him?”
I don’t like this dream.
“It’s not a dream.”
I snorted. Right. He’d probably turn into Necros soon, and I’d have to kill him and all his guards again. I sighed. Why is this my life?
“Because I’ve shared my energy with you,” Grigory murmured. “Now tell me about Yakariah.”
I can’t, I thought at him. Not only did I have no memory of what happened, but I also didn’t want to speak. Just let me sleep.
“No.” His palm slid to the back of my neck, squeezing. “Look at me.”
I ignored him, not ready for this devastating game. Necros would be waiting for me when I finally gave in to the pull to see Grigory one last time. It was inevitable. Some part of me yearned for my savior, the male who had linked our lives together on some plane of existence that I didn’t quite understand. Even now, I swore he was in my mind, hearing every word I said to myself, seeing all my thoughts, plowing through my memories.
He tried to pull up the day of Yakariah’s attack.
I felt the intrusion.
Or perhaps I imagined it.
Was I in some sort of simulator? Being interrogated without my consent?
I sighed. All you had to do was ask, I muttered to myself.
“I did,” he replied.
I don’t know what happened, I told him, aware I was giving in to the delusions of my nightmare. But I was too exhausted to keep fighting this.
Hell, I might as well open my eyes and get this over with.
Piercing black eyes stared down at me when I did, set in a handsome face only meant for my fantasies. Maybe I really did defeat my demons? Maybe this was my reward?
You’re here, I breathed, both elated and sad at the same time.
“Yes,” he whispered. “And you’re not dreaming.”
I knew better than to believe that. We were in his bed, surrounded by silk. My hair was freshly washed and combed. Cotton shorts and a tank top clothed my body. He wore a T-shirt and shorts, too, his hair damp as if he’d joined me in a shower.
Definitely a dream.