Chapter 2
I jolt awake, gripping the blanket, drenched in sweat, my heart pounding like a madman inside my chest. Silver and blue lightning bolts flash and thunder clatters at the bedroom window. It was just a dream, I tell myself. But being a Foreseer, dreams aren’t always just dreams. Sometimes they’re warnings of the impending future. Alex and I eluded death once, because our souls are connected; something we discovered after sacrificing our souls for each other’s lives. I handed mine over to Helena, the Queen of The Afterlife, who reins over the lost and tortured souls. Alex gave his to a greedy banshee, who was collecting free souls to gain power in the hope of taking the Queen of The Afterlife’s place. But Annabella released us from our duty, stating neither the Queen nor the Banshee could just take one of our souls—they’d have to take them together. It was then that I learned good still existed in the world, because she could have turned both our souls over to one of them.
I climb out of bed, wrap my arms around myself, and pad to the door. The Keepers’ castle is always cold. After moving in, I discovered the brick structure is ancient, with only fireplaces to heat the rooms.
I hurry down the hall, hoping I don’t wake up anyone. I stop in front of Alex’s bedroom door. It’s late and I almost leave. But worry nags my gut. I have to see him—I have to know he’s okay.
My fist falls against the door. “Alex.” Silence returns my knock and I rap on the door again. The sound of my knock reverberates loudly through the sleeping castle. “God, he sleeps like the dead.” I sigh and soundlessly push the door open.
His room is dark. I feel my way around the wall and to his bed. “Alex, wake up.” My fingers search for him, but only encounter the blankets and pillows. My heart constricts in my chest as I remember the dream.
I jump at the sharp snap of the thunder. Rain rushes down, striking the window like needles “Damn it,” I curse under my breath, hyped up over nothing.
Arms envelop my waist and draw me back. It’s Alex and I relax, breathing in the warmth flowing from his skin.
“Where were you?” I turn, seeking his eyes through the darkness.
He’s close, shirtless, wearing black drawstring pajama bottoms. He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, his lips a sliver away from mine. “Getting a drink of water from downstairs… What are you doing up this late at night? In my room?”
I shrug. “I had a dream and couldn’t go back to sleep.”
“A bad one?” he questions. Lightning blazes outside the window, illuminating the room and his bright green eyes.
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “It definitely wasn’t the best dream I’ve had.”
“You want to tell me about it?” he asks, sketching my lips with his thumb.
I yawn. “Not right now. But in the morning I do. I just needed to see if you were okay.”
“Okay,” he says, understanding the dream was about him.
I give him a small hug and start to depart for the door. His arms tighten and he urges my body against his, so every part of us is touching.
“You should stay,” he whispers, his warm breath feathering my cheek.
I hesitate, my gaze skimming to his bed. Whenever things get too heated between us, my emotions get the best of me. Some of them are so fresh that I have a hard time dealing with them. Eventually, I’ll have to learn or our relationship will go nowhere.
“We’ll just sleep.” He laughs at my rigid reaction. “Jeez, Gemma, get your mind out of the gutter.”
I shake my head and playfully shove him. Then we climb into his bed. I’m wearing plaid pajama shorts and my legs are ice-cold. I tuck my feet under his legs to warm them up.
“It’s really coming down out there.” He observes the rain splashing against the window.
“Yeah…” I trail off, distracted by my dream—there was lightning in it.
His finger traces my cheekbone. “What are you thinking about?”
“Just stuff… about you.”
“What about me?”
I find his hand under the blanket and interlace our fingers. “I just don’t want to lose you.” My voice shudders like it always does whenever I speak my feelings aloud.
“You won’t.” His fingers rub the black star marking my wrist—our forever mark. “See this thing right here. It means you’re stuck with me forever, whether you like it or not.”
I stifle a smile, stroke the star on his wrist, and graze his lips with mine, giving him a quick kiss. I lean back, but his hand cups the back of my neck and he deepens the kiss. His tongue slides in my mouth and my whole body shivers. His chest presses against mine and our legs tangle together. I choke my anxiousness down and clutch the hem of his shirt as I roll onto my back.
He shifts over me, rising on his elbows, licking his lips, wanting more.
“You said we were just going to sleep,” I joke, my nerves jumbled.
He arches an eyebrow. “You want me to stop?”
“Not yet.” My breath falters and I seal my lips to his.
He moans in response and pulls me closer, until there’s no space left between us. We stay that way until the sun rises, breaks through the clouds, and silences the storm. As I drift to sleep, cuddled against him, I can’t help but think how beautiful the moment is. But it’s fleeting and soon I’m consumed with a dark thought.
What if our forever has a loophole?