Page 142 of Vengeance of the Gods

“A nightmare? Vega, you’ve been screaming for ten minutes. We’ve been trying to wake you for ten minutes.” The fear in Arlet’s voice made Vega’s heart ache.

She didn’t need more worries.

Fake it.

Vega kept up the obviously fake laugh. “Weird.” She scooted to the edge of the bed, swaying when a rush of adrenaline made her dizzy. She swatted Bridger’s hand away. “I’m fine.” She looked him in the eyes and realized she couldn’t feel him.

Her shields were locked.

Shit.

Vega flung them open, and Bridger flooded her senses. “Fine? You expect me to believe you’re fine?”

Khort stayed quiet and stared her down, a somber and exhausted set of eyes meeting hers when she pulled herself off the bed, stepping over Arlet’s shoulder to get to the open door.

“I’ve had nightmares since some of my very first lives. It's nothing new.” But this one was… This one wasn’t a nightmare at all. Real nightmares she woke from.

“Not like that.” Arlet pointed at the bed where Vega’s blood stained the top of the blanket.

“I…” Vega started, biting her lip and shrugging. “I don’t know what to tell you. I had to have hit something, maybe hit myself in the face.” She glanced down at the black clothes, thankful for the dark color hiding the bloodstains she knew she was covered in. “Speaking of, I can see how horrible I look.”

Sliding behind Arlet’s and Khort’s open shields was too easy. Vega saw herself through her best friends’ eyes, rotating between the two. “I should clean myself up.”

Vega slipped out of their heads and back into hers, fleeing the room. She walked as quickly as she could without sprinting to the bathrooms at the end of the hall.

The door hit the wall behind it as she crashed inside, beelining for the sinks. Vega’s face was covered in blood, most of it drying and crusting around the edges of her hair.

Vega snatched her ring off and slapped it on the counter. Blood smeared her hands, and when she turned them over, it was obvious it had pooled in her palms—as if she’d really been inside her head with the gods and everything that had happened was real.

You’ve had enough time. How had Vega missed the clues?

Death bared its teeth at the pit, a tar-like black liquid dripping from its fangs. Vega slipped out when she heard an unintelligible whisper echo up.

The scrape on her knuckles stung when she turned on the faucet and ran them under the water.

Vega leaned down and splashed cold water on her face, cupping her hands until they were filled with water to repeat the motion. She groaned at the soreness of her nose when she applied too much pressure.

It wasn’t broken, but it had to have come close from the amount of pain still lingering.

A suffocating stillness gripped the room as a shield bubbled around her, and Vega knew who’d be behind her when she stood up straight, pink water stained with blood dripping onto the counter.

Bridger’s onyx eyes were fixed on hers in the mirror, the tick of his jaw catching the fluorescent lighting. “You can lie to them, Vega.” Gods, his voice was deep. Deeper than usual from sleep and… anger? “I’ll gladly lie to them for you if that’s what you want, but you won’t lie to me.” He reached out and gripped her shoulder rougher than she’d expected, twisting her around and slamming the small of her back against the counter.

Vega gasped as Bridger caged her in, his hands gripping the counter edge behind her. “I didn’t lie. I had a nightmare.” She thought if she kept saying it out loud, she’d convince herself of it and she wouldn’t be afraid to go back to sleep.

She wouldn’t be afraid to face what the voices had said… what they’d made her realize.

Your soul was mine before you begged for the power to kill her. It was right in front of her face.

“I know what nightmares look like. I’ve had plenty. That wasn’t a nightmare.”

Vega stood as still as she could, glancing down at the bulging veins of Bridger’s forearms and his bare chest’s steady rise and fall from the deep breaths he took.

“Why are you half naked?” she asked, her eyes dragging slowly back to his after she noticed he was in nothing but a loose fit pair of black sleep pants.

Bridger cocked his head, his mood not dulling. Everything about him was rigid—every muscle in his body tight with an anger Vega knew he was keeping at bay. “Because I woke up to the sound of you screaming down the bond, begging someone to let you out. I woke up because Death came and got me.”

Vega went numb.