Series: Lords of Rathe Series by Meagan Brandy
Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 93354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
I drop a blanket over him but leave the book so he doesn’t wake up, and head back to my room, movie night officially canceled.
I hit the light off before crawling into bed. Today was long and tiring, all the partying catching up to me, so maybe it’s good Ben fell asleep so I can try to catch up on some too. Even as I think it, I know it won’t come that easy, as there’s still something that sits beneath my skin that I can’t seem to scratch. I just know I’m missing … something, and it feels like a lot more than nightmares.
It feels like an actual piece.
Sighing, I snuggle into my cool sheets and pull them up near my chin, reaching for the remote. I hit the power button and start scrolling through Netflix. I just need something normal. Something that’s going to take my mind off of whatever I got myself into Saturday night.
I push play on reruns of Gossip Girl, hoping to find some sort of comfort from a show that I’ve already watched hundreds of times over the years. I must be on episode three when my phone vibrates on my mattress. I reach for it aimlessly, opening the new text message. Unknown number. Maybe one that I’ve forgotten to save. Maybe it’s that fake mystery friend I made the other night. Or maybe I really am losing my mind.
Unknown: Are you a good liar London?
I stare back at the words, confusion swimming through my brain. My fingers fly over the keypad, and I hit send.
Me: Who is this?
Unknown: I think you know.
I think back over the day. I saw Creed, and by the vibes that I got from him today, he doesn’t like me very much. Maybe it’s him.
Me: Creed?
Seconds pass when nothing comes through. I almost think that they’ve given up when the phone lights up in my hand and I’m once again distracted.
Unknown: Wrong brother.
My stomach drops to the floor as hot sweat breaks out over my skin. How did he get my number, and why am I not mad about it?
Me: Are you here to gloat?
I clutch my phone tightly. I hate that whatever Serena and Blair are going through in the background slowly sinks into nothingness as I wait for those little dots to pop up on my phone.
First off, how did he get my number, and why would he text me? Creed is obvious about his feelings for me, but Knight is someone I can’t get a read on. It’s like he’s angry with me, but he also loves to play. Am I his plaything?
Would I mind if I were?
My thighs clench together as I try to think over anything that I might be able to remember from Saturday night. I feel him in my bones and inside my skin, so why do I not feel him in my mind? Why is he not present in my memories if I can feel his touch on my flesh? It doesn’t make sense.
Unknown: Gloat about what?
My agitation slowly surfaces.
Me: You tell me.
Unknown: Sweet dreams, Lon.
Me: Whatever. I’m too tired for this shit.
I toss my phone down onto my bed and pick my remote up angrily, flicking over the angst between the two polar opposite besties on the screen. I need something placid like Chuck Bass and Blair. Yes. I need that. I hit play on whatever episode it is, snuggling back deep into my covers. My eyes turn heavy as I struggle to stay awake. Fatigue sets into my muscles as time passes, and before I know it, lights are out.
My body buzzes with energy as my eyes pop open. I’m back here again. Great. Why am I slowly getting the feeling that whatever is happening in this nightmare is a message? That whatever I’m seeing is some sort of sick handwritten note being sent to me from God knows who. God, maybe?
I had an easy childhood, no weird shit to speak of, so I couldn’t even pretend to guess what that message would be. My life was as normal as normal goes, both before and after my parents’ deaths, minus the whole missing them from time-to-time part, but that went away after a year or so. My uncle provided me with all the love a child needed, but this bridge? There’s something about it other than the obvious heat coming from the other side, where stone and ice now lie at my feet.
I rack my brain trying to remember if I’ve ever seen it before in my hometown but come up empty.
Also, how the hell do I know I’m in dream-fucking-land right now?!
Goosebumps break out over me as the wind licks itself over my exposed flesh, and just like every other time, I feel it creep beneath my skin like the angst of the walking dead. Pins and needles of what it gives me is nothing compared to the shadowy figure that glides above me. My mouth closes and I can’t move. Every single limb on my body is frozen in place. The hooded figure continues to hover above my body carefully. All of the other times, this is when I would wake up. When his presence penetrated my mind so much that I couldn’t take it anymore, or when he grabbed for me. But I am determined now. I’m determined to stay in as long as I can.