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I nod, inching toward him. “Who are you?”
His violet eyes flicker. “You don’t remember me? This really must be a nightmare, then.” He sighs in disappointment.
“What else would it be?”
“I have no idea.” He traces lazy circles along my arm. “Why are you afraid of werewolves?”
“Because I’ve been hurt by them,” I admit softly.
His fingers freeze, his body rippling with fury. “Are they the ones who killed you?”
“I’m dead?” I whisper.
“Everyone says you are.” His voice cracks. “But I’ve never wanted to believe it.”
I think he might be crying. The idea splinters my heart apart. No, not my heart. My soul.
I want nothing more than to make him feel better, so I stand on my tiptoes and claim his lips with mine. “I’m sorry you’re hurting,” I whisper against his lips.
I start to lean back, but he cups the back of my head and guides my lips back to his, kissing me so fervently I can barely remember who I am.
I’ve never been kissed before. Not like this. I want to be kissed like this forever.
I let out a groan as I melt into the kiss, letting myself get swept away.
When he finally pulls away, I feel like a part of me has died all over again, a part I never knew existed.
He rests his forehead against mine, breathing unevenly. “I’m sorry I let you die.”
My lips part to try to convince him that I’m not dead. Well, I wasn’t when I went to sleep, but then the field blackens back into the alleyway.
And just like that, I’m stuck in my nightmares again.
CHAPTER4
Iwake up groggy and disoriented. It’s been a long time since I’ve dreamt of anything other than the attack, and while the break was nice, I want to understand why I dreamt about the guy with violet eyes and why I felt so connected to him. But, wanting and getting are two different things, and even after I do countless searches of creatures with violet eyes, I’m left as puzzled as ever.
Story of my life.
Giving up on my search, I make myself some breakfast, and then carry on with the rest of my day.
Legend hasn’t come back, though the sun is shining in the clear blue sky. I’m not surprised. He once told me he sucked at goodbyes. Part of me wonders if he won’t return at all. That maybe he’s avoiding the goodbye altogether. So, when he strolls into my apartment at sunset with a cheerful grin on his face, I’m a shocked.
“You’re supposed to be heading home.” I drag my ass off the sofa. “You’re going to miss your exit back.”
“I’m leaving in about an hour.” He kicks the door shut then sticks out his hand, his fingers wrapped around a square, iridescent piece of glass with smooth edges. “And you’re coming with me.”
As I take the piece of glass from him, the edges illuminate with an inscription.
“A traveling pass? You got me a traveling pass? How the hell did you get this?”
He winks. “I pulled a few strings.”
“You didn’t kill anyone, did you?” I’m kidding. Well, mostly.
“Would you be afraid of me if I did?” he wonders amusedly.
“No,” I answer truthfully.
