Page 36 of The Witch's Heart
The man is gone, along with whoever wheeled me here.
Panic threatens as I try to get my bearings. Where am I? Where is everyone else?
“Celeste.”
The sound of Dean’s voice is a relief that nearly brings me to tears, and I turn to see him coming forward in the darkness.
“Come sleep with us. You’re safe.”
His strong arms reach out, lifting me easily.
He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of shorts, and his bare chest presses against my shoulder in a way that makes my skin tingle. Hard lines and ridges make up his abs and pecs. I want to run my fingers over them but my arms, heavy with exhaustion and fear, won’t comply.
I let him carry me through an open doorway and am surprised to see it’s his cell—but now it looks like a bedroom. My mind feels like it’s filled with cotton balls. Images of a barren cell overlay the reality of this plush and comfortable space, and I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not. Dean sets me down again, but confusion has me swaying on my feet. How did I get downstairs in a wheelchair? Why did they leave me in the hall?
Before I can voice the question, terror grips me as I spot a large wolf lying on its belly in the corner.
My mouth opens and I move to scramble back but Dean is there, his hands on my shoulders.
“It’s just Declan,” Dean assures me.
The wolf lifts his head and blinks large, green eyes at me. He doesn’t come any closer; only watches me as Dean tugs me towards his bed. A real bed, not a cot this time.
“The dungeon,” I mumble.
“It’s gone,” Dean says. “The illusion is broken.”
“For now,” Declan mutters, but I’m too disoriented to fit it all together. Was the dungeon the illusion or is it this room? Maybe I’m not really here at all.
“Come here,” Dean says. “I’ll warm you up. You’re freezing.”
I climb in between the blankets and he tucks me in close beside him. The warmth is welcome after so long in the chilly hallways. Or wherever I’ve been.
My mind swims with the drugs they gave me and sleep pulls me under faster than I can resist.
When I wake again, there is only darkness.
Beside me, someone shifts against the soft mattress, and I swallow a scream as recognition dawns. I’m safe. In Dean’s room. Only now, two male bodies lie in bed with me; one on either side. Neither are wearing much of anything. Both emanate a heat that chases away the chill in the room.
An arm reaches over and drapes itself across my middle and I recognize Dean’s outline as he scoots closer, wrapping a leg around my own. On my other side, Declan is already pressed tight to my hip. When I try to shift away to get some space, he mumbles something unintelligible and rolls closer still.
I could swear he was a wolf before, but my memory is too muddled to be sure.
Nothing feels real anymore.
Or if it is, I’m too lost to know.
Memories—too confusing to be real—bombard me. A snake slithers at the corners of my mind and suddenly I can’t breathe.
Slowly, I pick my way out of their hold and climb from the bed.
The cold air immediately pricks my skin but my thoughts are too jumbled to care. I have to know if what happened earlier was real. Dr. Livingstone’s words echo in my mind. Am I a killer? The idea of it tortures me until I can’t think of anything else.
I have to break through the illusion.
Tiptoeing to the door, I open it quietly and peek into the dark hallway.
Empty.
