Page 8 of His Curse
My eyes fly open and meet glowing purple ones before a palm connects with my cheek again, the asshat’s wrist gripped firmly in my hand at the last second. “What the fuck, Zan?"
The shithead smirks and leans closer to me. "I feel as though you do this just so I may finally give you the kiss of life you secretly desire."
"If it ever comes down to that, just let me die."
Zan's sardonic grin widens. "Never.” Then the bastard leans down further andactuallyplants a fucking kiss right on my lips. "I fear I have come to care for you too much to allow that to take place.”
I spit and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, glaring up at Zan while he cackles like an idiot, his head thrown back and shoulders shaking. Which is when I realize the fucker is sitting on my chest. "Would you get off of me?"
“No, thank you. I find I like the view.”
“Don’t be a dick. Get off of my chest before your big ass caves it in.”
Zan scoffs. “My weight would hardly do such a thing. I may be taller by a few inches, but yourgirthoutweighs mine. I’m sure my rump resting amongst all that luscious chest hair isn’t even affecting your heavy breathing.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I wiggle a little but freeze over his next words.
"Are you through with your nightmares?"
"Fuck.” I close my eyes on a sigh and scrub my hands over my face. "Another one?"
Zan nods as he sits upright. “I was coming to fetch you per the request of my mate, and heard you thrashing about before I even entered."
"Which you did without permission.” I smirk. "Again."
"Bah.” He waves his hand in my face dismissively. "Permission is not needed when one’s best friend is involved. Your thrashing and growls were enough to cause alarm; therefore, I entered to provide aid in the event of an emergency, which is how it seemed."
My eyes find his again and his grin slips when I ask, “Was it bad?"
Zan nods. "Afraid so, wolf. You have made a mess of your bedding, your fangs were fully elongated, and your claws were showing.” Then he tilts his head to the side. "And you said her name several times."
"Fuck.” I bury my hands in my hair and fist it at the roots.This is not fucking good.
"Why are they getting worse?"
"I don't know."
"Perhaps it has something to do with what happened last year?” Zan furrows his brow and squints one eye as he looks at me. “When you were in the presence of so much evil it forced theotherto come forth against his, and your will?"
Maybe.
Zan actually has a pretty good point.
When he asked me to protect Frankie I had every intention of shifting but not into theother—that's never intentional.
I did anyway, though, and the only reason we can come up with for it was the fact that being in front of not only Zan at full powerpre-soul, but also his bastard sire and The Caster of Shadows Himself, caused me to shift into theother. Like there was so much concentrated evil in the Dragovihk Clan cave it forced me to shift into that monstrosity; and it’s probably why I didn’t do any damage in such close quarters, demons be damned. Their evil brought out mine, and then somehow forced theotherto appear and submit to it long enough formydemon to do his thing in The Desolate Plane.
And since I won't talk to anyone but Zan and Frankie about theother—conversations with my sister, Mary, are sparse regardless of the content, and myextrawolf has been off the table for years—we have no real way of knowing what the fuck happened. Not that I know anyone who would be able to shed any light on that shit. Zan is the closest I’ve gotten to understanding things a little better when it comes to theother,and even with his help I’m still in the dark.
Ever since that night in the cave, over the last eight or nine months, my nightmares have gotten worse. Well, theonlynightmare I have anymore because I've finally gotten to a point where my wolf and I check out when theothertakes over instead of watching his merciless and ruthless acts of terror, which is what caused my bad fucking dreams for a long fucking time. I’ve gotten better at avoiding that sort of trauma, especially since I have enough of my own, thanks.
But the only nightmare I have, the one that will haunt me until my last breath, seems to be occurring more frequently, more than it ever did, actually; and it’s something Zan has walked in on countless times because he's a nosy fuck who seems to know that this nightmare is becoming more of a problem for me.
Before the whole ordeal with Frankie, I used to have nightmares leading up to a shift into theother—the only indicator I’ve ever had that he was going to make an appearance—but it wasn’t theonlytime I’d have them, they just got heavier when I was close to an unexpected shift. It was like that sick and sorry excuse for a wolf would play his highlight reels from that last century in my dreams, showing me all of hisfavorite momentslive and in technicolor to get me worked up and ready for him. And when they would become constant, when I’d have them back to back or every time I closed my eyes, I knew theotherwas coming. Which is why I so frequently disappear now, whether it be under the excuse of a mission for my king and the clan, or a forced exile so I can spare them from whatever theotherdoes, it’s because I know he’s coming. Disappearing is mandatory in order to protect those around me, and I’ve become a ticking time bomb lately as my nightmares have ramped up without an appearance.
Correction—nightmare.
Like I said, it’s just one because I’ve gotten better at disconnecting when theothertakes over, better at pushing all of those horrible memories out of my mind, but this one… this nightmare, it’s different. It’s my own personal hell replayed on an extremely vivid loop and I can't help but think it has less to do with that disgusting piece-of-shit wolf that lives inside me and his games, and more to do with something else that’s brewing.
