With a sigh I grabbed her fists as gently as I could and woke her up. “Mo, you were dreaming.”
Her long lashes blinked against her skin a few times, possibly clearing out the images that had just haunted her rest. “Sorry.” Her glance fell to my hands as they held her wrists midair. Mo jerked away from me and moved to the side of the bed. “It was just a bad dream.”
My touch used to comfort her. She used to crave it. At least I thought she did. It had always been about me and Mo. We were a team, a dysfunctional one, but a team’s a team right?
“It’s okay,” I lied; it was absolutely not okay that she wanted nothing to do with me, that she was scared of me, that she was pregnant and I’d done everything within my power to make it easy on her — even when every day it was harder on me. “Just go back to sleep, things will look better in the morning.”
But they wouldn’t. She knew it. I knew it. Hell, everyone who knew us and our family knew it. Things never looked better in the morning.
Actually, I preferred night. Not because I actually enjoyed sleeping — hell, if I didn’t need sleep I wouldn’t do it. Too many images ran through my mind, pictures of death, blood, more death. But the real messed up part? I wasn’t haunted by the dreams like Mo was — no, I was the exact opposite. It inspired me, it drove me, it motivated me. Hell, I was the one you’d least expect. Chase even had problems doing some of the dirty work.
But me?
I was the worst type of person.
Because I craved it like a drug.
I craved death. I craved war. I craved it like an addict. And I loathed the days of peace because they reminded me that I was basically an orphan. Unwanted, unloved, and now? Unloved by the girl I’d sworn to love for the rest of my life.
So sugarplums? Santa? Unicorns? Sheep? Nah, that shit didn’t fit in my dreams.
It never did.
Mo moved next to me pulling the covers up around her frail body. She’d been losing so much weight it was ridiculous. Weren’t you supposed to gain weight when you were pregnant? It stung that she didn’t want me to go to her doctor’s appointment with her. Apparently he’d said she was stressed. Right, like I could do anything to help that. I was doing everything within my power to fix things — to fix us — to fix her — to fix the family. Nothing worked.
Being with Mo wasn’t just my peace, it was like I’d finally found someone that got me, someone who understood who I was, even when I chose not to reveal my whole self to her, one look, and I knew she knew. All the shit that went on in my head, but she didn’t pester me, didn’t make me explain anything, just loved me as I was. And now, it was gone. I was gone. There was literally nothing left.
My role was no longer fulfilling its purpose. I’d known it for a while now, but I hadn’t wanted to admit it. But the signs were clear.
It was time to take my place. Time to bring the nightmare to life, to wake the beast, to be what I was born to be.
Vito Campisi’s son.
Rachel van Dyken, Entice
(Series: Eagle Elite # 3)
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends