Page 84 of Dark Night of the Soul

“Don’t what?”

“Whatever you’re thinking right now. Don’t.”

But it was too late. Something loosened in my chest. She was flustered. And I was the cause.

That was progress, too.

Chapter 27 | Anna

For the last week, we’d practiced my triggers daily, and I’d learned to control it and fought through the head pain. I no longer felt like I was going to combust whenever he moved close to me.

Also, he was flustering me in all kinds of ways I didn’t need. One little glance and my heart skipped. The accidental brush of our hands and my pulse jumped. It was like having a schoolgirl crush all over again and I was too damn old for that.

All this domestic stuff was starting to get on my nerves, too. We’d settled into an old married couple rhythm that felt both natural and terrifying. I couldn’t decide how I felt about that. I think because I was still trying to figure out what we were.

I was different. He was different. Everything was different.

Sometimes, I missed when he used to bark orders in my head. I wanted to feel that again. But I understood why he stopped. I was too volatile.

I’d been thinking about dream walking again for a while. I tried once in the hospital, but I felt blocked. Like I couldn’t grasp that part of me. I chalked it up to post-procedure trauma. Shock. Fear. Everything I didn’t want to admit.

Now, sitting here in the quiet, it occurred to me that excuses weren’t answers.

I knew the procedure—God, I hated that word—altered me. But I didn’t know how much.

And so, one morning, as he sat on the sofa sharpening his knife and I sat at the dining table, I announced, “I want to try dream walking.”

His hands stopped moving. He lifted his head, his gaze meeting mine. Concern lingering there. I already knew he didn’t want me to try.

“You think you should?” he asked.

“I think I need to see what they did to me. How deep the damage goes.”

Damage. Another word I hated.

“Am I your test subject then?” he asked, one brow lifted.

“You’re the only one I trust.” I said it without thinking and then flushed.

But it was true. If there was anyone I wanted in my dreams, it was him.

There were still things about him I didn’t understand. I knew he could dream walk too, but I didn’t know how far that ability went—whether it was the bond or something else entirely. He’d appeared in my dreams before. We’d interacted. But I’d never known if he could do it deliberately. Like I could.

“Well, I know I can’t talk you out of it, so you may as well try.”

Smart man.

I slid him a smile. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

“And you’re getting awfully cocky.”

“I was always cocky. Or did you forget?”

“How could I? You never let me.” But he was smirking when he said it.

He sheathed the knife and placed it and the whetstone on the coffee table in front of him. I took that as a sign of trust. He trusted me not to grab it and gut him since I’d managed to (mostly) control my triggers.

“I’m at your mercy,” he said.