Nightmare (7 page)

“Goodnight, Ava.”

“Goodnight, Peter.” Her thoughts continue to swirl, like water going down a drain. I go back to my book, listening to her breathe. Instead of slowing down, it speeds up, and I recognize she is in distress. I wait until she thrashes in her blankets to intervene.

I touch her warm shoulder. When she's sleeping is when I want her blood the most. “Ava?” Her arms curl around her stomach, and her eyes open reluctantly.

“Mm?” She pretends to be sleepy. As if she doesn't want me to know she is having a hard time.

“Talk to me.” I want her to believe I am the one who needs her.

Her voice is muffled against her pillow. “About what?”

“Anything. I just want to hear your voice.”

She rolls over to face me. “Why? You want to kill me.”

“Always.” I will never lie to her about something like that. I have Claimed her, which protects her from any other noctalis. Except me.

“What are you thinking about?” I want her to share her turmoil with me. Let me take some of it from her.

“I'm just...” She wipes her hand across her forehead, looking for the right words. “I'm afraid of losing you. I'm afraid of losing my mother and losing you and I'll have nothing left.” Her voice is full of tears. I can smell them on her cheeks. I did not think that I was what she was worried about.

“You are not going to lose me.” Where would I go?

“How do I know that?” She sits up, tears streaming from her eyes. “You tell me I'm beautiful and then you keep looking at me, and it scares me. I told my mother about you and she got sick. I just ruin everything. You should just go.” She wipes her tears with the edge of her comforter.

“And Di is going to come up with something or Ivan will do something –” I cut her off.

“Ivan is in Las Vegas. And you need not worry about Di.” She shakes her head.

“Ava,” I say. I get up and sit on the edge of her bed. She reaches out for me and I draw her toward me. I must pick the right words, like ripe apples from a tree.

“I feel for you. I feel so many ways about you. So many other things than what would hurt me. I adore you. I cherish you. I desire you. I care for you. That is all I need. It's more than I thought I would have, in this existence. I don't need more, so I will not seek it.” She grips me tight.

Her head goes under my chin, fitting like a key inside a lock. “How can you stop it? How can that other stuff be enough?”

“It is. It is far more than I deserve.” I deserve nothing.

“Everyone deserves love.” She sniffs and I pull a tissue from the box that sits beside her bed. “Well, maybe not child molesters and serial killers, but everyone else.”

“The world does not owe me anything. That is one of the failings of many humans, I think. They believe the world owes them something.” She blows her nose and tosses the tissue in the trash. I want to lick the rest of the tears from her cheeks, but I stay silent.

She turns her face up. It is blotchy and her eyes are swollen, but she is still exquisite. “You know I love you.” It is the first she has said it out loud.

“Yes.” Yes, yes, yes. Always yes.

“Don't you care that I love you, but you can't love me back?” Always yes.

“I do, but it is not my biggest concern.”

“What is your biggest concern?” She pulls back so she can watch my face.

“Keeping you safe. That overwhelms any feeling I might want to have for you.” She wipes her eyes again.

“But I want to keep you safe,” she says.

“You cannot.”

“Yeah, that's right, because I'm a weak little human.” She tries to break away from the grasp of my arms, but I won't let her.

“No. Because if something will happen to me, then it will happen.”

“I don't want it to.” My stubborn Ava.

“I know.”

“I just love you and I don't want to lose you.” Her tears return.

“I know.”

“Would you stop saying that?” I know she is going to lunge at me, and I let her. Her lips mash against mine and her smell floods my nose. I kiss her back, letting her emotions bolster my own, making us both want. 

More, more, more.

I have to push her away so I don't bite her lips to get to her blood. Her skin is like paper, so easily torn. A membrane that impedes my access. 

“Have some.” She holds out her wrist. Of course she can sense my need. 

“No.”

“Goddammit, I know you need it because my stomach is killing me.” She tries to push me away. I let her. She's crying again. “Will you promise me something?” I do not make promises lightly, but would make an exception for her.

“That would depend on what it was.”

“I want you to promise me that you'll look for a way. A way to break this curse. Because I swear, if I lose you, I'm never going to forgive you. I'll curse your name for the rest of my life.” It is the only threat she can make. She has little leverage, and she knows it. But the threat that she would curse me is enough. The image of her miserable is enough. 

“I can promise to try.”

“Not good enough.” I recognize that face. She is determined. As usual.

“Ava.”

“Don't even.” She puts her hand up as if trying to stop me. “You got me into this whole thing. You made me fall in love with you, and now I want you to fix this. Because I can't lose you. I won't let it happen. I want to be with you, as insane as that sounds. I know you're like, way older and it's creepy and illegal, if you were a human. I know I'm going to have to give you blood and that there will be times when you do things I can't be a part of. But I don't care. I want to be a part of it. I want to be a part of
you
.” She snags her hand in her hair in frustration.

I need a moment to think. Even though my thoughts move faster than hers, the rapid spray of her words leaves me silent. 

“It's not happening is it?” She takes my hands, turning them over. 

“No. I was thinking.”

“Oh.” The blood rushes to her face, and I want to reach out and take it. I want it almost more than I want to promise her. Almost, but not quite.

“I never felt that way about anyone when I was alive. There was a girl in town that I used to walk home. She lived across the street and her laugh was so loud, I could hear it from my porch. I used to try and peek in her bedroom window, but I never got a glimpse of her. The legend of the vampire, such as it is, paints us as lascivious creatures with a lust for sex as much as a lust for blood. That is another myth. While there are some noctali, who, I am sure, take part in those activities, I am not one of them.” Her face flames with color at the mention of sex.

“Is this some sort of crazy way to tell me you're a virgin? Can you even, um,
do
that?” She's still holding my hands. Her's pulse with her heart. A ribbon of embarrassment runs from her to me. It took me a while to understand that was the uncomfortable emotion she had quite frequently. It is not an emotion I can feel for myself.

“I am trying to tell you that I have never felt that way about anyone. But if it would be anyone who could make me feel it, it would be you. You would be worth it. So yes, to everything you asked. I promise to find a solution.” While this is not a binding promise, since Ava is not a noctalis, I still feel the weight of it settling over my shoulder like a cape.

“Good.” She lets out a breath, expelling her scent all over me. I want to wrap myself in it and drown. She puts her hands around mine. They are so small, my fingers jut out above hers. 

“Would you stay here with me?”

“I will always stay with you.”

“I mean here.” She motions to her bed.

“I don't know if that would be a good idea.”

Her hand drops mine. “Oh, well. It was just an idea. You can go back to your book.” She turns her back, sliding back down under the blankets. The rejections stings her.

“A few feet closer shouldn't do too much damage.” Surprised, she turns over. I have been working on my sarcasm.

“Are you sure? You could have a little, if you wanted.” She pushes her arm toward me. 

“That would only whet my appetite.” I would kill her, if I took some now.

“Oh, right.” She watches as I lay next to her, pulling one pillow behind my back. I am never uncomfortable, but I want her to think that I am comfortable. Her scent wafts up from the sheets, surrounding me in a cloud. She turns on her side, looking up at me.

“Only if you're sure.”

“I am sure,” I say, picking my book up. She lays as far from me as she can get without falling off the bed. I will bring her closer when she falls asleep.

“Go to sleep. We will talk in the morning.”

“Okay. Goodnight Peter.” She rolls onto her side, her back facing me.

“Goodnight, Ava-Claire.” 

She falls asleep and I think about promises and how to keep them.

Chapter Six

Ava

Even with Peter next to me, I have a nightmare. It starts out as a nice dream. I'm walking in the woods, barefoot. As it goes in dreams, my feet feel nothing even though the ground is uneven and covered in rocks and sticks and such. I'm walking toward something bright-greenish that shines out of the trees. Actually, it's two somethings. I walk further, and, once again, it takes me forever.

I finally get to a clearing with grass so flat, I know it can't be real. Still, I want to know what's going on. Two fires, flickering in the darkness. Not like normal fires with smoke and wood. These are more like giant columns of light that flicker and burn. But the fires, or whatever they are, aren't burning wood. They're burning people.

The light dims and I can make out my mother's face, and then the rest of her. The other is Peter. They're glowing like fireflies, which is totally weird, but I go with it. They both smile at me at the exact same second. 

“I love you,” they both say in unison. I hear each of their distinct voices before they are both consumed by a burst of light. And then darkness.

“Ava?” Peter shakes my shoulder. Somehow I've migrated in my sleep so I'm practically on top of him. I want him even in my sleep. I shift over to my side of the bed, trying to be subtle about it. Hell, I'd just seen him in my dream going up in weird greenish flames. Part of me wants to touch him all over and make sure he's all in one piece. But that's silly. It was just a dream.

“Sorry. Bad dream.” My room is dark, but I feel safe with Peter next to me, his thumb stuck in his book to mark the place. I notice he's nearly done. The book is about four inches thick. Stupid speed reader.

“Do you wish to talk about it?”

“Not really.” I put my hand over my eyes, wishing I could block it all out.

“It must have been frightening.” Thanks Peter, that's helpful.

“Just a dream.” 

Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream. I'm going to keep saying it until I believe it.

“I could feel your distress.” Can't he see that I don't want to talk about it?

“What, I can't even dream now without you getting vibes?”

“I feel what you feel, asleep or awake.” In turn, I feel his anxiety for me. Peter's emotions are easy to separate from my own. They're distant and foreign. Like having an invader in my brain. It didn't bother me as much as it should. Nothing about Peter bothered me as much as it should.

“It's nothing. Just go back to reading.” I turn my back to him, and pull the covers up. He waits for a moment, for me to speak or change my mind. When I don't, he goes back to reading, the swish of the pages turning lulls me back into a much better sleep.

I'm not big on dream interpretation, being as how sometimes dreams are just dreams and not a manifestation of your secret love for your English teacher. Before I finally decide to close my eyes and try to sleep again, I vow to do some research. In the morning.

****

I think about the dream as I brush my teeth the next morning. It had been so clear, and I'd remembered every detail when I woken up. I usually didn't remember my dreams, so this was new. I wasn't sure if I liked it or not. I certainly hated the dream. It was probably just a manifestation of my fear of losing Peter and my mother. But I wanted to know for sure.

I hated that I'd broken down in front of him last night. Generally, I tried not to be too emotional and needy in front of Peter. I think it kind of freaked him out sometimes. When we'd first done the Claiming, he'd even had jitters. All that had calmed down, but I still tried to hold it back a bit. 

Not so much. 

I didn't regret the promise I'd forced him to make about finding a way out of the curse. I'd decided to call it that, because it was a Curse. With a capital C. Promises were things that you made in wedding vows and to your children and to best friends. They were supposed to be good. To make you better. This was a Curse. 

I wasn't selfish enough to want Peter to break it just for me. I wanted him to be free, not chained to someone else. 

Viktor was Cursed, too. He was forced to come whenever Di called. Which wasn't very often, but when she whistled, he came, like a dog. He was better than that. I didn't want them to be slaves to this woman who had made them out of her own selfish need not to be alone. I wouldn't make the same mistake.

Peter was unusually quiet, and that bothered me, but I wasn't getting any bad vibes from him, so I didn't say anything about it. Sometimes, Peter was just weird. I figured he was just thinking about who he could ask about breaking the curse. I hoped.

I had to say goodbye to him in my room before I went downstairs to grab something to eat. Since my mother had gotten worse, wasn't making pancakes every morning, and I spent most of my time in my room with Peter, I usually just grabbed a bowl of cereal or a protein bar. 

“I'll see you after work, okay?” I give him the obligatory peck on the cheek, not letting my lips linger. “I know I made you promise to look for a solution, but you don't have to do it today.” I'm feeling guilty now about forcing him. It was a knee-jerk reaction to the dream, and I should have just calmed the heck down and thought about things.

“I will wait for you.” He's staring at his trunk. I automatically check to make sure the key is still firmly around my neck. It's become a nervous tick now.