House of Darken (Secret Keepers #1)(35)

I didn’t quite finish the sandwich, my stomach protesting. I set it aside on the bench and climbed into bed. I had planned on lying there with the lamp on for a while so I could run over everything that had happened today. Just before falling asleep was always my favorite time to process my life, when there were no other distractions around. It helped me see clearly, pick up details I would have normally missed.

But my eyelids kept fluttering closed, my blinks getting far less frequent, so I switched the lamp off. I would think everything over in the morning.





It’s so hot. I can’t breathe. Why can’t I breathe? The smoke is everywhere. It’s choking me. Slithering into every part of my body. I’m dying. Crawling with desperation, unable to see, unable to breathe. Searching for them. Hissing as embers bit into my exposed flesh. As smoke and heat charred my throat and lungs.

It had been a long time since I’d had the dream, the one that had consumed me for weeks after the fire. In it, I was always battling the heat and smoke. It choked me. I fought to escape. But unlike real life I never made it out of the dream fire.

With a muffled yelp I managed to wrench myself awake, sitting upright, my heart hammering hard in my chest. I had probably been yelling. Sara and Michael used to tell me I made a real racket when I was in the fire dream. I’d always awoken to find them standing at my bedside, worried faces staring down at me. I got hugs after that though; it was the one time I really craved the touch of another human.

Anything to wipe away the taste, smell, and feel of smoke choking me to death.

I was disoriented for a beat as I stared around the dark room. The Darkens. Right. I was at their house. No wonder the dream had returned; my stress levels were at an all-time high. Pulling myself out of the bed, I started to pace the room. I could never stay still after the dream.

I wondered what time it was. If it was almost morning I’d just stay up, but there was no way to tell from this room. I switched on the lamp to double check there wasn’t a clock in the room. Nope. Creeping toward the door, I slowly eased it open, and then ducked through before shutting it just as quickly. I didn’t want the light to wake Lexen.

His room wasn’t that dark; there were beads of illumination coming in from a few different places, which helped in not tripping over anything. From memory there was a window near the bathroom door, so I headed in that direction, trying my best not to focus on the bed and the supernatural sleeping there.

Surprised to make it to the window undetected, I wondered where the “I don’t need much sleep” asshole was now. Reaching out, I gripped the curtain, pulling them apart.

Oh. Instead of the window I’d expected, there was a double set of doors behind the heavy material, and the wood and glass doors were ajar. I noticed Lexen a beat before he said, “Nice to see you weren’t murdered in your sleep. For a moment there I wasn’t sure.”

“Thanks for checking on me,” I said drily, slipping out onto the wide balcony.

I immediately felt better being outside, breathing in the fresh air.

Lexen, who was still shirtless, had his shoulder propped against a nearby wall, staring out into the ocean. I had never realized quite how loud it was being near the water as it crashed against the cliffs.

“My job is to keep you alive,” he said softly. “The rest … you’re going to have to look to Marsil, Jero, and Star.”

I found myself leaning against the glass railing. “They seem to defer to you as their fearless leader … or whatever. Why are you the boss?”

In this dull light I couldn’t really make out his face. “It was the position I was born into.” His voice was emotionless. “It’s not something I chose.”

I realized then that we were having an actual conversation that didn’t involve yelling or insults.

“What did you dream about?” He straightened as he asked, and even though most of my attention was focused out into the world, I sensed his eyes on me.

The smell of smoke was still in my nose; his question brought back the choking sensation. It was so clear in my mind.

“I dream of my death.”

I didn’t want to talk about my parents – I couldn’t talk about them. Not with the dream still filling my mind. Even worse, I didn’t wake to a warm hug and smiles. I woke to this cold, mysterious guy. I woke to remember that what remained of my family was missing.

My chest clenched; the hot pressure behind my eyes told me I was going to have one of my moments. I was going to lose it. It didn’t happen much anymore, but if I suppressed it for too long the breakdown would be so much worse.

“Ex …cuse me,” I choked out, before I stumbled back across the balcony, aiming for the doors. I needed to get back to my room so I could cry in peace. Without judgment.

I was trying to be kind to myself lately. If I needed to cry, I let myself. I didn’t beat myself up for it. Not anymore. When I did that in the early days I almost sent myself to a mental-health facility.

Just as I was slipping through the doors, a warm hand wrapped around my forearm. “What’s wrong?” Lexen asked sharply.

There was a note of concern in his voice and my throat tightened to the point where it was no longer possible for me to talk.

I tried anyway, because he wasn’t letting go.

“My parents … I dream of the fire.” My voice was barely a squeak. The first tear slipped free from my eyes, trailing across my cheek in a hot line.