Page 53 of The Midnight Order
“Don’t compare me to farm animals. Get into bed.”
“You’re the one who scared me out of bed,” I blurt, realizing the harsh edge to my words far too late.
“It’s not my fault that you’re sensitive.”
“Sensitive?! To men looming over my bed, singing children’s songs? I think so.”
“It’s a lullaby. I just wanted to sing you something nice so that you’d have sweet dreams. You looked a bit perturbed in your sleep. You were tossing and turning and crying out. I was only trying to help, and you’re making it seem as if I came in here like some psychopath hellbent on instilling fear.”
His words shut me up, and I realize my heart thrashes because of them.
My belly flips, and I try to quell the feeling causing the disturbance.
“I was having a night terror?”
He shrugs, and it’s the most modern thing I’ve seen them do. “How am I to know what the fit you were having was called? I only know lullabies worked when I had nightmares as a child.”
I hang my head at his admission. “I’m sorry.”
I’ve had night terrors since I was a child. My aunt took me to every specialist known to man, and none could explain why I had them.
I rarely recall my dreams or why I’m screaming; I only know that people wake me up because of how I behave during them.
It’s why I prefer to remain alone.
What man is going to sleep beside a woman who screams and kicks during the night?
“Why are you sorry?” he cocks his head, and it makes him look more inhuman than he already does with his red eyes and alabaster skin.
“For how I behaved toward you. I have nightmares, and I can’t control them. With everything going on, I’m sure they’ve gotten worse.”
“What are the nightmares about?” He steps into me, his eyes filling with intrigue, like the answers to the universe might lie in what I say next.
“I don’t know. I usually don’t remember them.”
“We might be able to help with that.”
My heart skips a beat. “How?”
“By hypnotizing you. We have that power. It’s how we take away memories.” He realizes he’s said too much and worries his bottom lip with his fang.
“How I scream, I wonder if I want to know what’s in the dreams,” I admit to him, and he reaches for me, hesitating before he rests his hand on my bare arm.
The same itch I feel when they all get near spreads from beneath his hand and through my body.
It’s like it’s trying to tell me something, but I don’t know what.
Could it be a warning?
A warning to run?
Or could it be fate alerting me to my found purpose?
The only way to know the answer is to remain at Thorngray and try to riddle it out.
That is, if I pass its tests.
Lowell left as soonas I settled back into bed after thirty minutes of pleading with him not to sing me lullabies meant for babies.
