Page 99 of Was I Ever Real

“Just shut up already,” she says, her smile widening. “I can't give you my forgiveness when there’s nothing to forgive.” She then kisses me and the taste is tender—not resentful. “Let it go, Connor. For me? I need you. There’s no space for this guilt between us.”

I study her expression for a little while longer, swallowing hard and then finally nod.

“Thank you,” she says.

When she finally lets me pull out, I fall onto my back, dragging her into my chest.

“Then I promise you this, Lenix. You’ll never be safer than right here in my arms. I’ll turn the Sin Eaters into a fucking world empire just to keep you safe. No one will ever dare touch you now.”

She stays silent for a beat, seemingly lost in thought, her fingers tracing idle lines across the tattoos on my chest.

“What if I want to run this empire with you instead of just being protected?” she finally says while looking at me with a mischievous smile.

I run my fingers down her back and then up her arm, before saying, “Then it’s all yours, Mrs. Maxwell.”

Chapter 53

Wakingupfromthisparticular dream feels like my body fell from a mile-high drop and then tried to brace for impact. My hand is pressed against my beating heart and it takes me a few seconds to find my bearings, especially when I notice the bed empty beside me.

It wasn’t any of my usual nightmares either. But it held the same odd sensation of knowing what was about to happen or even recognizing the setting while still feeling foreign. Trying to remember now feels like sifting through fine sand, anytime I try to grasp at an image it slips through my fingers.

I scan the bedroom trying to center myself back to the here and now. It’s still early morning, the shy yawning sun is barely peeking through the curtains, casting the room in shadows. I’m awake, but something still feels off. Like my consciousness is still wandering somewhere without me, like I have my foot in an invisible world I can’t describe.

It’s unnerving. Something I have no real control over.

My attention snaps to the ensuite and the sound of a running faucet, then a few seconds later Connor pads out holding a glass of water. Somehow, seeing him like this, his face darkened by the somber light of the room, rattles one of the images of my dream into flashing in my mind's eye. Of a hand—is it mine?—around a knife, sinking it into someone’s chest.

My stomach drops.

“Oh my God…” I mutter, my hand flying over my mouth, my eyes still fixed on Connor walking back to bed. With the expression of vague horror, I’m probably sporting, his eyebrows dip in worry, quickly placing the glass on the bedside table and slipping close to me in bed.

“What’s wrong?” he says while his hands smooth over my face, shoulders, arms, seemingly thinking I must be hurt, but finding nothing other than my rattled frame in an oversized t-shirt.

What’s wrong?

Is anything wrong? I stay silent while I clamber through my anxious thoughts one by one trying to make sense of it all. Am I still struggling with killing my father that they’re manifesting in bizarre visions and dreams? No, because this predates even the death of my father.

It doesn’t make sense. Nothing about this is making sense.

My eyes drop to Connor’s bare chest. I still haven’t spoken. My hand raises up to skim the tattooed skin over his heart, and he jerks under my touch ever so slightly, as if trying to pull away but deciding against it. The ridge between his brows grows deeper.

“I think I might be going crazy…” I whisper, not knowing what else to say.

“Why would you say that?” he says, wrapping my shaky fingers into his hand, keeping them pressed against his chest.

I meet his gaze and sigh deeply. “I don’t even know… I just keep having these thoughts… or visions? Dreams? I don’t know…” I trail off.

“About?” he gently coaxes.

“Bloody knives,” I say with a dry laugh, trying to take my hand away but he grips it even harder.

“What do you mean?” His voice now sounding a bit harder.

“I don’t know, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. I can’t explain it.”

“So explain what you can.”

“You’ll think I’ve lost it,” I say, slightly annoyed that he's pushing this already odd conversation along.

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