Page 94 of Fanged Embrace
I woke up the next morning, and something was different.
I opened my eyes and felt lighter than I had in years. At first, I lay still and tried to remember what I’d lost. But whatever shards of memory I’d handed over to River were gone, vanished like they never happened—and they’d left no gaps behind.
I’d been skeptical of River’s proposal, hesitant—and I still was to some degree—but there was no denying that something was different.
Something had changed.
With a yawn that went on forever, I stretched out under the blanket, then hauled myself upright. I waited for the heaviness in my chest to pull me back down again, to tempt me into thunking down on the mattress, burrowing under the covers, and staying that way for the rest of the day.
That didn’t happen.
The heaviness was still there, I could feel it. But I made it out of bed with no trouble.
That in itself was a surefire sign that whatever the hell River had done in my head had worked. Or could work, if we kept at it. If I let her in. If I could let go of every terrible memory that plagued me.
She had done the impossible. She’d taken the shards I handed her and dissolved them. Grateful wasn’t a big enough word. But still, I was nervous. Hesitation hovered underneath the relief.
Because there were still plenty of horrors left in the vault, along with the bittersweet memories I didn’t know what to do with. Those memories, the shards that carried just as much joy as they did sorrow, like two sides of a coin—those memories hurt the most. Those memories, I wasn’t sure I could ever give up.
But River had asked me for a chance. She had asked me to trust her.
I could at least try.
A faint clatter echoed down the hall and caught my attention. Pans, plates, and River whistling off-key. Something that—I had come to learn in my time living with her—was standard practice.
Along with her inharmonious whistling, a rich scent that smelled a lot like another over-the-top breakfast drifted my way. So I padded out of the bedroom barefoot, hair a stock standard disaster, following that delicious aroma to the kitchen.
River stood at the stove in silky red pajama bottoms and a strategically revealing bralette, and I couldn’t help but stare. She was fully absorbed with her cooking endeavor, flipping French toast triangles with the flourish of an old school magician.
She glanced up when I cleared my throat, dimples deepening as she grinned my way. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” The word came out unexpectedly chipper and I felt my lips curling into the faintest of smiles—a first for me, atleast this early in the day. I slid onto a stool and watched her work. “You’re cooking enough for a platoon again.”
“I can’t help it.” She piled toast on a platter, then glanced back at me with a wary glint in her eye. “How are you feeling?”
“I haven’t gone brain-dead overnight if that’s what you’re worried about.” I leaned an elbow on the table and pursed my lips, poking at the stack of steaming toast.
“Hey, I technically did psychological brain surgery on you yesterday.” River waved a spatula over her shoulder at me. “So forgive me for being a little concerned.”
“Fair enough.” I tugged a piece of toast free from the pile and slathered it in syrup. “I actually feel… good. Almost, I don’t know—floaty. Does that make sense?”
“That makes perfect sense,” River said, flipping the last triangle of French toast and sliding the pan onto a trivet. She joined me at the island, propping her chin on one hand. “Floaty is a technical term in the empath’s handbook. Right after ‘post-extraction euphoria.’”
“Oh, good—glad I’m textbook.” I rolled my eyes and shoveled a syrup-drowned bite into my mouth. “So what’s the next step?”
River’s brows arched. “If you’re open to it, we can tackle another shard or two today.”
I thought it over, chewing my toast with my cheek propped up on one fist.
The extraction yesterday had left both of us exhausted. After River had pulled my memories free and I collapsed into her arms, we both passed out in her bed for the rest of the day—though that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, considering River’s concerning lack of sleep as of late. And as much as I was still on the fence about whether or not this plan of hers was even going to work, shaving off a bit more darkness from the confines of my mind was tempting.
Iwantedit to work.
“Yeah,” I murmured around the toast. “We can do that.”
“Excellent.” River’s grin turned feral for half a second, then eased into dimples. She rose abruptly and sauntered out of the kitchen, casting instructions over her shoulder. “But first—get dressed. We’re going out.”
I raised a suspicious brow. “Going where, exactly?”
