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“I don’t ever want to wake up from this,” I admit as I stick my hand out the open window.
Wilder scoots forward and brushes my hair away from my shoulder. “Then don’t.” He dips his head and places a soft kiss on my neck.
The most wonderful shiver tickles across my skin and I angle my head back.
“You feel so good…” He murmurs. “But your skin is so cold.”
“That’s not weird, though…” I sound dazed and faraway, lost in dreamland.
Maybe that’s exactly where I am. Lost. Perhaps I’ve been lost and dreaming since the night of Benton’s party. Maybe none of what happened afterward was real. Part of me is relieved at the idea. That I didn’t meet Axel, the drug lord. That I didn’t hear him say he knew my mom. That I didn’t vaguely recognize his colleague. That I didn’t get tranquilized. But the other part of me is disappointed. Because if I did dream everything, then that means I never met the Bad Boy Rebels, which is quite possibly the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me. And as scary as the last twenty-four hours have been, I’ve secretly kind of enjoyed the excitement. Have I been terrified? Absolutely. But I also liked the feeling, the adrenaline rush, the thrill of doing something out of the ordinary. What that says about me, I’m unsure. But I’m not about to over analyze myself while I’m hanging out in one of the best dreams ever.
Wilder places a kiss on my neck again, before chuckling and dropping back down in the seat. Then he smirks at Benton, who’s sitting in the seat beside him.
Benton rolls his eyes. “What? You think I’m impressed. I’ll show you impressed.” With a wicked glint in his eyes, he pushes Wilder out of the way, leans over the console, and seals his lips to mine.
My heart flutters in my chest like a cracked out hummingbird as he parts my lips with his tongue.
“Hey, I want to play,” Jackson whines.
I feel the car slowing down and my pulse quickens. Oh my Gosh, is he going to kiss me too? Is this part of the job? Or just part of the dream? Do I even care?
Before I arrive at an answer, the car gives a harsh jerk and Benton’s lips leave mine. When I open my eyes, I’m alone and the car is spinning out of control and heading for the river.
“Tell me, Zhara, have you ever tasted the poison of the devil? Because your mom sure did.” Axel’s voice flows through the car, like a haunted memory.
“You don’t know my mom,” I whisper as I fumble to open the console so I can pop out the shoulder straps before the car crashes. But the big, red, for-emergencies-only button isn’t inside. “No.” I panic as the car starts to slide over the edge and toward the river. “This can’t be happening.”
“Yes, it can,” Axel’s voice echoes around me. “Look at you. You’re so much like your mom. I bet you liked the taste of the devil’s poison.”
“No!” I scream, throwing my hands over my ears. “Just shut up—”
The car tumbles sideways and lands in the water. Metal bends. Glass shatters. A piercing pain stings my leg.
“No…” My voice sounds so far away. “I don’t want to taste it. I don’t want to—”
“Zhara, open your eyes.” A soft, welcoming voice slices through the water rolling over my body. “Come on. You need to wake up.”
“I’m trying,” I whimper as water rises to my chin. “But I can’t breathe…”
“Yes, you can,” the voice whispers. “Just take a deep breath and open your eyes.”
I do what the voice says, inhaling and exhaling, over and over again and then will my eyes to open. But my eyelids are too heavy, the water’s too deathly cold, and my body is too exhausted.
“I’m dying,” I whisper and then the water carries me out of the car.
I’m not sure if I’m dreaming anymore…
Returning to the Land of Confusion
I bolt upright and suck in a sharp breath, fighting to breathe. Water. Water, everywhere. I flail my arms around, trying to swim, but a hand touches my arm and confusion douses over me. Wait, if I’m in the water then why is someone touching me? And why can I breathe?
I force my eyelids open, but my vision is blurry, making it nearly impossible to tell where I am. I blink several times and attempt to calm down.
“Good, now take a deep breath,” someone says from beside me.
I can’t make out their face, but the deep voice has to belong to a guy. Maybe one of the Bad Boy Rebels? Or did Axel get ahold of me? Is that why I heard him in my dream?
I try to recall the last thing that happened before I was sucked into dreamland. Standing on the side of the road. In the dark. Wilder and Jackson beside me. That’s where everything gets hazy.
“Where am I?” I croak, continuing to blink my eyes. “And what time and day is it?”
“You’re at Benton’s. It’s been a few hours since you passed out,” the soft, deep voice says. “Don’t worry, you’re safe.”
Gradually, my vision comes back into focus. I realize I’m sitting in a bed in an unfamiliar bedroom with dark blue walls. “Who’s room is this?”
“It’s Benton’s bedroom.”
My head snaps to the right and I find Ridge sitting in a chair beside the bed, his eyes full of concern.
“Oh.” I rub my forehead then wince from the pain. “Why does it feel like I’ve been run over by a truck?”
Keeping his gaze glued to me, he slants forward and rests his elbows on the edge of the bed. “Just how much do you remember about what happened?”
My shoulders feel heavy as I shrug. “I don’t know… Being on the side of the road with Jackson and Wilder. That’s about where my memory cuts off.”
“From what Wilder told me, that’s about when you passed out.” He scoots the chair closer to the bed. “Do you remember why you passed out?”
My gaze falls to my leg and I lift off the blanket covering me. I’m still wearing the cut-off shorts and the tank top Wilder tore, but the plaid jacket I had tied around my waist is MIA, along with the ring Axel gave me—thank God. “I was tranquilized by a crazy drug lord, right?” I frown at the gnarly bruise on my leg. “That’s gross.” I can’t even remember the last time I had a bruise, which seems a bit strange when I really think about it.
“The bruise is from the injection,” he explains. “But it should go away within a few days.”
I start to relax when another thought occurs to me. “Wait, what time is it?” I cast a quick glance at the window, noting the stars and the moon are shining in the sky. “Crap, Loki’s going to be so worried about me. I need to call him.” I reach for my pocket to get my phone, but it isn’t in there. “Crap, I must have dropped my phone somewhere.”
Ridge gently places a hand on my knee. “Relax. Benton used your phone to text Loki and told him you were spending the night at Taylor’s. And I’m sure he probably accidentally took your phone when he left.”
“Oh.” I exhale in relief. “I’m glad he did that. Loki isn’t used to me coming home late and I’m sure he would’ve freaked out.” I search for a clock to see what time it is. Why I find one, my gratitude for Benton doubles. It’s after one o’clock in the morning. He definitely would’ve been worried. “I just hope Taylor doesn’t try to text me for a ride. I was supposed to call her a cab if she needed one. I’m sure by now, though, she’s probably gotten one herself. She’s probably going to be mad at me, for letting her down.”
“That doesn’t really sound fair.”
“Well, I told her I would pick her up or get her a cab, so…” I shrug. “It was sort of my responsibility.”
He nods, but doesn’t seem convinced.
He runs his fingers through his messy brown hair, seeming stressed. His jeans and t-shirt are a bit wrinkled, and through his glasses, I spot bags under his eyes.
“You look tired,” I note. “Is everything okay?”
He stares at me with his brows knit. “You just woke up from getting tranquilized and one of the first things you say is I look tired?”
I give a shrug, unsu
re whether he’s complimenting me or if he just thinks I’m crazy. “I’m just worried maybe you stayed up too late keeping an eye on me or whatever it was you are just doing in here.”
“I’m fine,” he assures me, fidgeting with a tiny hole in his jeans. “I’ve actually been running on about three hours of sleep for the last three days or so, but that has nothing to do with you.”
“Oh.” I tuck a few stray strands of my hair behind my ear. “What does it have to do with then?”
“The job, mostly. But I’ve also been dealing with some family drama too.” He frowns. But then straightens and pats the bed. “How about you scoot over here so I can check you over before Benton texts again.”
“Okay.” I slide to the edge of the bed and lower my feet to the floor. “Where did Benton go anyway?”
He opens the top drawer of the nightstand and retrieves a thermometer and a pulse and oxygen meter. “He had to go do a work thing, but he’s been texting about every five minutes to make sure you’re okay.” He takes my hand and his fingers slightly tremble as he positions the pulse and oxygen meter onto my finger.
Is he nervous? Why? Does it have anything to do with me mentioning Axel knowing my mom? From what I recall, I blabbed that detail to Jackson and Wilder before I passed out.
