Page 98 of Monsterland Mayhem
That wasn’t a dream.
Tabitha sets the tray down, reminding me of her presence and the question she has yet to answer. I glance up into her violet gaze, noting the thin cluster of pink lashes framing her catlike eyes. She’s human, but there’s always been an otherworldly quality about her. One that seems highlighted by her facial features. The hints of pink in her hair also seem unnatural.
But only humans are servants in this world.
And she’s a servant.
Ergo, human.
“Don’t drink the tea,” she whispers, her words barely audible.
Then she turns and leaves without another word, leaving me in stunned silence.
I glance down at the tray, noting the small tuna salad sandwich and the teacup beside it.
Something isn’t right.
My brow furrows even more as another part of me snaps,No shit.
Craze, Catum, and Krolic are real. I’m certain of it. They’re my… my mate-circle. Sort of. Not really. Notyet.
I shake my head and instantly regret it, the sense of delirium hitting me all over again.
I was in Monsterland. I’m an Omega. I… I shouldn’t be here.
Not a dream. Not a dream. Not. A. Dream.
But how is the dress in perfectly good condition? And the shoes?
I destroyed those in Monsterland.
Blowing out a breath, I scrub my hand down my face. None of this makes any sense.
And while my stomach is killing me, I don’t want to eat.
Don’t drink the tea,Tabitha said.
Biting my cheek, I study the contents. It looks normal.
Bending down, I take a sniff. Smells normal, too.
But that doesn’t mean I want to taste it. Especially not after Tabitha’s warning.
Shaking my head, I push the tray aside and force my legs to move toward the ground. They feel heavy, confirming that perhaps I have been asleep for a while.
Or drugged, I think.
I’m not quite sure what that would feel like, but I’ve heard about drugs from Baroness Clarice’s daughters. Well, not directly from them. Just in the movies they used to watch.
Move, Ailsa,I tell myself.
But I can barely feel the cement floor beneath my bare feet. It’s like I’m numb.
“Where is she?” a deep voice booms, sending a chill down my spine.
“In her room, resting,” Baroness Clarice replies in a light purr. It’s a voice I’ve not really heard her use before. She’s usually exasperated or stern, not… flirtatious.
“Take me to her,” the male growls.
