My body seemed to think I wanted that to happen, which is new.
I’ve noticed attractive males before, but it was always from an intellectual point of view. I admired tall men. Men with perfect physiques. Men with symmetrical facial features. Noah’s handsomeness hits every time I glance his way. My knees go weak. A flutter starts in my belly. I have the strangest urge to giggle–and I almost never laugh.
So would I fight him if he tried to climb in bed with me?
Yes. I’d have to. Protecting my Sight is far more important than indulging my body’s sudden whimsical interest in a male. But I know it’s a moot point. Noah is a gentleman. He’s not going to force himself on me tonight.
I surrender to the visions and let them carry me into sleep.
Oma startles me awake. I’m in the prison tower. Her wrinkled face is right in front of mine.
“What are you doing, child? You can’t be with a man!” She points a gnarled, bony finger at me.
“I’m not with a man! I’m his prisoner.” It’s not like me to talk back to Oma. This dream self sounds shrill and defensive.
She slaps my face. “Don’t lie to me. You walked out of the tower!” Her voice is a screech. “You’re going to ruin everything I worked three generations to achieve. Get back to your confinement. Now!” She puts her fingertips on my temples and sends searing pain into my head.
I scream as the visions return, so fast they turn into a blinding white light that makes my head explode with too much coded information.
I need to throw up. I pray I’ll pass out.
My body feels like it’s falling through the air–like Oma threw me out the tower window, and I’m tumbling to my death, except I don’t hit the ground.
Someone catches me.
Noah.
His amber and cedarwood scent curls into my nostrils. His warmth seeps into my body against my back. One of his strong warm hands cups my nape, the other curves around me to press against my sternum. He’s rocking me.
I’ve got you. His words enter my head the way my clairaudience does.
The blinding white light begins to fade. I hear the murmurings of the Grandmothers, but it’s as if someone turns the volume down until their chatter disappears.
Is this a vision?
No. I feel Noah’s breath feather across my shoulder. He climbed in the bed with me after all–not to force himself on me but to hold me.
To comfort me.
When I was young–before I was sent to the Adalwulf manse to train under Oma–I was cared for by the mothers, the group of Moonborn female wolves who live in the simplicity and oneness of nature at Moonhollow. In my earliest years, I was loved. I was cuddled and held and guided, even as I was taught the importance of my future role as an acolyte to Oma.
But the moments of comfort since I left Moonhollow have been few. Perhaps it’s just from my exhaustion from everything I’ve been through since the day I went to New York, but I suddenly feel so safe.
I feel so safe, and it releases a dam of emotion I didn’t know I carried. A sob rockets from my throat. My stomach twists up, and tears stream from my eyes onto the pillow.
Noah shifts his fingers from my nape to my temple, where he lightly strokes me with his thumb.
Don’t cry, starlight. His projected words reach me. I won’t hurt you.
“I know.” I answer out loud then remember he can’t read my lips when he’s behind me. I try again but speak the words in my head to him.
His body jerks in surprise.
He heard me. This isn’t a vision. Or is it? A waking one?
Noah tugs me toward him, rolling me onto my back and peering down at me with concern. He brushes my hair back from my face. “What did they do to you?”
A lump forms in my throat, and fresh tears spill uncontrollably from the corners of my eyes. “Please.” I shake my head. “Don’t.”
