Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
The door unlocks. I yank it open and run out, shutting it behind me just as I see a whirl of black. It hits the door, making it thump, and now the doorknob is fucking turning.
I fumble for my keys, searching each pocket of my jeans, trying to hold the doorknob straight while the creature on the other side starts to twist it. Someone down the other end of the hall comes out and asks if I’m okay, having heard my scream, but I can’t even answer.
Finally I find my keys in my back pocket of my jeans, pull them out and quickly lock the door.
I start running down the hall, going past the guy who is staring at me perplexed.
“Rabid animal,” I mutter as I go down the stairs3 x, trying to seem like it’s just some lost raccoon and not a literal fucking demon. “Going to get pest control.”
I run outside the building and into the dark and I keep running, not sure where I’m going, only I have to get away and—
I turn the corner and run right into someone solid, tall and dark.
I scream again and then strong hands grip my biceps and I hear Valtu say “Dahlia? What happened? What’s wrong?”
Valtu? What the fuck? Why is he here?
I don’t know what to say to him either. If I mention the bad thing in my room, he’s probably going to want to play hero and go investigate. He knows nothing can hurt him. And yet that’s the worst thing that could possibly happen, even worse than a demon on the ceiling, because he’ll see the pentacle and the crystals and the candles and he’s going to know I’m a witch.
And fuck, does he even know right now? Did all the energy I used toward astral projection drain me of my glamor?
But from the way he’s staring at me, dark brows furrowed, deep eyes full of worry, I don’t think he suspects. My glamor must be holding.
“I…” I say, trying to explain in the most plausible way. “I had a bad dream.”
His frown deepens and he looks me over. “A bad dream?”
I nod, swallowing quickly, then turn the tables over to him. “What are you doing over here?”
He lets go of my shoulders, looking the tiniest bit chagrined. “I was worried,” he admits, placing his hand at the back of his neck. “You didn’t show up to class today…”
Oh. Right. “I was sick,” I say weakly.
“I actually called you…”
I stare at him for a moment. He called me? I guess those were the missed calls on my phone. “I was worried when you didn’t show up. Are you okay? You look a little pale. What is it?”
I have to say, I’m liking Valtu doting on me like this. The fact that he genuinely seems worried is a foreign feeling to me. I can’t remember the last time anyone enquired after me and meant it. Maybe my parents…
I give him a quick smile before I can dwell on that too much. “I’m fine. Just stomach flu. I, uh, couldn’t bothered to charge my phone. I just kept sleeping for most of the day.”
“And you just woke up,” he notes, looking me over while pursing his lips. “You’re wearing the same clothes as you were in class yesterday.”
I glance down at my tank top and wide-leg jeans, suddenly aware of how chilled the night air is. “I was just too tired to change,” I say dumbly.
“So you had a bad dream and…?”
I shrug. “Thought a walk would clear my head.”
“It’s getting cold out,” he cautions.
“The cold feels good after all that heat.”
He studies me for a moment. “Well, I’m glad you’re up and about,” he says. He gestures toward the square in front of us. “Mind if I accompany you on your walk?”
I give him a shaky smile. “Not at all,” I find myself saying. But of course, it is kind of a problem since Livia is going to make her way here any minute. What if she runs into us? What if she acts like she knows me before she realizes I’m with Valtu.
“Must have been some dream,” he comments as we head toward the bridge. “I can practically hear your heart racing.”
I shoot him a sidelong glance. “You must have good hearing.”
A small smile tugs at his lips. “What was the dream about?”
I take in a deep breath and decide to be bold. “You were in it.”
His brows raise. “And it was a bad dream?”
I nod. “It was.”
“May I ask what I was doing in your dream?”
“I think you were trying to save me,” I admit, not wanting to tell him the rest.
“Save you?” He looks surprised. “From what?”
I shake my head, gnawing on my lower lip for a moment as we cross the bridge. “I’m not sure.”