Chapter 75 Go away
SOMA
My eyes open slowly, and I squint at the brightness that floods my vision. Something tightens around my waist, trapping me in one spot. I push against it, heart slamming against my chest when my fingers brush something soft.
Calm down, I tell myself. My heart calms, and I take a closer look at the bed. Someone is holding on to me.
The person’s face hides in the cover, but that auburn hair is unmistakable. I can tell who owns it, even in my sleep. Is this a dream? I flick a few strands of hair off his face, and my breath locks in my chest.
It’s Brynne.
My body recoils. I jerk back, but I don’t get far as his arm tightens around me to prevent my escape.
What’s happening?
This must be a dream because the real Brynne is awful and nothing like the person holding me, as if I matter to them. He lowers his head, burying his face in my bosom, and I bite the inside of my lip to keep from moaning. My nipples bead, thrumming in self-awareness at the casual body contact.
What kind of dream is this?
“Your Highness,” I squeak out. Where’s Jade?
His head raises, and sleep clouds his eyes.
“Hey, you’re awake,” he mutters. His jaw grazes my hard nipple, and I whimper from that touch, tempted to rub my body against his. “Why are you looking at me like that? Oh, the lights. Are they affecting you?”
“What?”
“The lights,” he says. “They must be bothering you.”
Without waiting for my response, Brynne slides off the bed and stalks to the switch. His shoulders and back muscles ripple with each step away from me, and the growing distance feels more like a taunt. For the first time in my life, I consider touching myself because of a man’s body. But I hold myself back at the last minute. A cold bath will ease this unusual urge.
The room grows dim as Brynne flicks the lights off. Walking back to me, he whispers, “Is this better?”
What timeline are we on? Heat stirs in my belly, and my inner thighs throb from the sound of his voice. One I’ve been hearing for over a month. I rub my legs together to ease the ache, but it builds so fast I grip the sheet.
What did he do to me? Why does he look so… hot?
The bed dips when he drops to the edge. He runs his hand over his face, sweeping his hair back as he turns to me. I don’t know where the urge to lick him comes from, but my toes curl, and my hands tremble from holding back from touching him everywhere.
This isn’t normal, so I force myself to think of all the awful things Brynne has done to me since I came into his life. The first memory that slips in is that of him holding me tight in a tub, his touch so gentle I believe I hallucinated it. In the second one, his head is lodged between my thighs, with his tongue working wonders on me, while I silently encourage him to keep going.
No, that’s impossible. It must have been Mason. He was the one in my dream, the only man I cared enough to let him touch me so intimately. It can’t be Brynne.
I try to tell myself that, but it feels like a lie, even to myself. Mason and I never kissed, let alone made out. I never imagined the two of us being naked together.
But why will I have such dreams about Brynne?
“Soma?” Brynne calls, but I ignore him.
As he watches me, maybe waiting for the right time to annoy me again, his eyes grow molten. Tristan’s panicked voice buzzes in my head.
Fire. Your hair is on fire.
The words click into place, unlocking memories that tried to bury themselves under my hallucinated ones. I remember Helga on her knees, her mouth opening to take him. She was on his lap before he set my hair on fire.
Is he here to finish what he started? To finally end my life? His hand reaches for my cheek, and I flinch.
“Get away from me,” I yell. My voice is hoarse, so I cough twice to push the words out. “Go away.”
“Somi.”
“My name is Soma,” I bark. “Somadina. Get out.”
He backs off the bed slowly, but to my horror, he doesn’t leave. His eyes flicker, switching colors from gray to ember red before he pulls at the hem of his shirt. I scream in protest, my hands flying over my eyes.
That doesn’t stop him. Clothes rustle, and calm falls. When my hands drop, Brynne is gone. In his place stands a black wolf with streaks of orange. I shoot to my feet, my pillow held out like a weapon. The wolf shakes its head, its ears standing as it bares its teeth.
This is really it for me.
The wolf leaps to the bed, knocking me down. As soon as my ass hits the sheet, he’s all over me, licking my cheek. I shut my eyes, waiting for canines to sink into my skin, but all I get is a sloppy tongue sliding all over my face with eagerness. When my eyes open again, the wolf stills, as if waiting for my next move.
“Go away,” I tell the wolf. He whines. “Go.”