Chapter Thirty-Seven

Lydia’s POV

My sleep is fitful, filled with dreams alternating from my mother’s smiling face when she bought me my first hunter pony on my seventh birthday, to a wolf with searing gold eyes stalking my shadow as I run through dark woods, to the woman I saw on the side of the road slicing me to bits when I stopped to help her. Once, Adrian’s voice flits to my ears when my mother’s face morphs into the deranged, distressed woman who begins chasing me and I think my heart might leap out of my chest with fear. His voice is distant, but I reach out for him blindly as my feet carry me far too slowly away from the woman, crying blood instead of tears. I call his name as I burst through a tree line into the woods, and the shadow of a wolf begins to chase me instead of the weeping woman.

When my eyes finally open to release me from the recurring nightmares, the first thing they focus on is the ceiling of my bedroom. My mouth is dry and my cheeks stiff with either sweat or tears, leaving a salty taste on my lips. I move to sit up slowly, suddenly aware of the steady pounding in my head as a migraine makes its appearance. What a wonderful way to start off my day. As I try to turn my attention away from the pain that pulses behind my eyes, I squint out the balcony doors and notice pure white snow is falling gently from the sky, puffy flakes landing on the balcony and adding to the piles of it that already accumulated on the railing. It’s so bright despite the overcast sky that I have to look away, my eyes watering from the reflection of the snow.

As I push back the thick comforter to get up, I notice that I’m still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, minus my shoes and Adrian’s coat, both of which I find set on the bench at the foot of my bed. My silk pillow is stained with mascara, which I find on my cheeks as I swipe at them. So I was crying, after all. I sigh and place my feet on the floor, surprised that it isn’t as cold as I expected. Noting the roaring fireplace, I make a mental note to thank Adrian for putting me to bed last night as I stretch my arms above my head, relishing the warmth of the flames. Before showing my gratitude to anyone, I need a shower pronto.

I fling my clothes onto the floor by the foot of the bed and tip-toe to the bathroom, the floor growing colder the farther away from the hearth that I get. I take off my makeup and wash my face before hopping into the shower, the water scalding against my skin. It isn’t until I’m rinsing myself clean of soap when I realize I can’t remember how or why Adrian had to tuck me in last night. We went to go see the Dean after class, right? My brow furrows as I turn off the water and wring it from my hair, recognizing that I can’t picture what the Dean looks like, or what his name is. Did we skip meeting him and just come back home? Maybe I fell asleep on the ride back.

I attempt to shrug it off but the bothersome feeling in my gut lingers as I dry my hair and apply my skincare, searching my reflection as if it could tell me anything about the events that did or didn’t take place. It’s been a while since I’ve had nightmares as bad as last night, so I can’t deny the feeling that something may have triggered them. I sigh, inhaling the scent of eucalyptus and spearmint that clings to my skin and the condensation from my body wash, imagining that it clears my mind of clutter. Let me just ask Adrian.
I don’t realize that I’m standing in front of the guest bedroom until my hand is turning the doorknob and pushing the door open. I’m still in my bathrobe as I peek through the doorway, spotting a large lump in the bedsheets on the other side of the room. This is my first time even seeing this room actually since I never got around to it with all of my unpacking. Almost the exact opposite of my room, the floors and fireplace are a black marble that is crackled with white, and the furniture is all a dark stained wood. The whole room is industrial looking, though there is also a balcony with a nice view on this end of the townhouse too.

I turn back to the bed, wondering how I knew he was in here. He has never stayed the night before, so I don’t know why that changed this time, or why my body moved without my brain correlating. I pad quietly over to the side that Adrian is sleeping on, amazed that he hasn’t woken up from the door opening. He’s sleeping on his stomach with his face pointing towards the balcony window, body half exposed despite there being no fire lit in the hearth of his room.

I reach out to touch him, pausing abruptly as I remember the touch of steaming hot skin. Somewhere, I’ve seen the tattoo on his left shoulder before but I don’t know why I forgot until now. I saw the ones on his chest and arms the other night in the living room, but I didn’t know he had the tribal tattoo on his back. I draw my hand back to my side and circle the bed, pulling my robe closer around me as I fling back the covers and settle inside of them, facing towards Adrian. His nostrils flare in his sleep as I situate myself in a lying position beside him, amazed that he still hasn’t woken up yet. I think about reaching to touch him again but decide against it last minute. He must be tired after taking care of me last night, so I should let him be for a little while longer. I woke up earlier than usual, so we don’t have to rush for school for another few hours.

Watching him sleep so peacefully, it’s easy to forget what an asshole he is in public. His expression is so relaxed and harmless as he lays there, breathing deeply and steadily. After a few minutes pass, I realize that my own chest has begun to rise and fall at the same pace as his, synchronizing without my noticing. His body heat soon warms my cold feet enough that I feel myself dozing off again too, relaxing enough that my brain slows down. It’s only once I’ve quieted my mind enough to sleep that the memories come flooding back, awoken by the scent of Adrian’s breath that mingles with mine.

Adrian isn’t a human. I saw him turn into a wolf last night. I remember the way his fur felt beneath my fingers, and the pounding in my chest that nearly hurt from drumming so quickly. Definitely not a dream. And yet, I remain calm, breathing even as I remember everything that took place in the Dean’s study, including the sweet scent that stuck to the back of my nose as I grew more and more exhausted. Dean De Leon must have done something to put me to sleep before I could work myself into a panic attack with all the impossible truths being shared with me. So, Jasper and Adrian are Werewolves, Serene is a Sorceress and the handsome blonde guy with a staring problem is a Vampire. Sure, that all makes sense.

Adrian makes a sound as he stirs from his slumber, making my eyes flutter open to meet his gaze. He raises his brow in a sleepy surprise, reaching to touch my cheek as if to make sure I’m not a part of his dream. His voice is gravely and lazy when he speaks, awakening a butterfly in my stomach. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Are you okay?” I stare back at him, admiring the downy tufts of hair that stick up on his head, reminding me of a baby bird. I can’t help the small smile that creeps onto my lips, wondering how someone who can turn into one of the most dangerous animals on the planet at will, can look so precious when he first wakes up. So effortlessly handsome. It makes me glad that I showered before the hook in my brain made me come find him.

Adrian sighs heavily and turns onto his side to face me, seeming to wake up a little more. “Do you remember anything?” He asks, voice a husky whisper. His dark eyes search my face, brow creased with concern.

“I didn’t at first, but not I do,” I admit, watching the light from the balcony windows flood his features, illuminating his eyes. The color reminds me of a freshly brewed pot of coffee when the light hits them.