Chapter 193: Peaceful Interlude
- RORY -
"You need to leave," I tell Luci, pushing away from him.
Now that I’ve gotten my bearings, the nightmare shivers through my body like it was me who was invaded by those demons even though I watched it happen to him. It’s terrifying. The idea of being responsible for something traumatic and invasive happening to someone else is choking me, and I can’t shake the feeling clawing at my throat that it was not just a dream. It feels like a prophesy. It feels real. Too real.
"I’m not leaving." Luciano’s eerie calm betrays experience with far more dramatic things than this.
"Yes," I snap. "You are. I don’t need you." I gulp back what feels like a lie and stand, wobbly-legged, next to the bed.
"What was the nightmare about, Lorelei?" His dark eyes watch me, expression suddenly grave.
He didn’t share the dream. There’s no way he would be asking me if he did. There’s no way he would be this calm.
"I don’t remember."
Everything feels like it’s cleaving inside of me. My chest is tight. My breath is only allowed thin wisps in and out of my lungs. Instead of using anymore of it to have this conversation with Luciano, I shuffle to the bathroom and close the door, collapsing against it.
Stupid fucking nightmares. The witch thing is bullshit. I know it is. But whatever is creating them is going to make my nights more filled with anxiety if this continues. More hellish.
I splash water on my face and lean heavily on the sink. Something tells me that Luciano isn’t going to leave—that I’m going to be faced with him the moment I emerge from this room. A small sob bubbles up in my throat again, and I grimace, capturing it and maintaining my silence while hot tears track down my cheeks.
I wish everyone would just leave me alone. Just let me be as alone as I feel so I could really sink in—really descend into this quicksand. Fighting like this—keeping the screams out, keeping the cries out—is sapping all the energy I have left.
Maybe there is a place deep in the Costa Rican forest where I could finally let all of the anguished sounds out that are trapped inside of me and not be heard by a single soul. That should be my plan while I’m here. Escape all of these watchful eyes and find that place. Leave it all out in the jungle and return home free and clear and new.
That’s what I’m going to do. I nod and splash more water on my face, relishing in the sharp cold. It’s strange how when something is cold enough, it actually burns.
After turning the knob to stop the water flow, I stare at the hole where it’s disappeared, then grab a towel and scrub my skin dry. The friction is beautiful. I just need that same gritty friction everywhere—like an exfoliant for the grime that has settled in too deep to get out any other way.
When I finally open the door, Luciano is standing there. It looks like he has made the sheets right on the bed, but now his hands are shoved into his pockets while his eyes rake over me. They’re not as judgmental and dark as I expect. They look weirdly... accepting. And not at all surprised.
I sigh heavily and pad over to the bed to sit. There’s no need to put on an appearance for this man, I guess.
"Do you have anything that can make me sleep and just skip right past the dreams?"
"No. But I will make it my job to find something if that’s what you need," he says, and I chuckle at the seriousness painting his features.
"Why are you here, Luciano?" I shake my head, slowly wondering about this all over again. It doesn’t make sense: him and me. It doesn’t make sense that he should be doggedly here by my side. We don’t know each other.
"Why am I in Costa Rica? Or why am I in this room?"
"Both. Neither." My forehead crinkles in frustration while I try to suss out what it is I’m really even asking. "Why are you... why are you waiting for me?"
He gazes at me for a long moment. There is an answer that he is considering sharing, but he abandons it. Something behind his eyes shutters to keep it hidden, and he chooses a less revealing answer—one that is less risky.
"I can’t explain it, but I don’t want to leave. And I know I can help once you decide to let me."
One of those locks inside me clicks open. It’s another barrier to my heart, and I feel the door beyond swinging loose on its hinges. How that happens without my explicit decision to let it, I’m not sure, but it doesn’t even surprise me.
As much as I don’t want to need him, it’s like Luciano is attracted to danger. And maybe that’s exactly what I am. Maybe I’m a danger to him just as he is to me. That seems to be the message of my dream.
"What was the nightmare about?" He asks again. "Was I in it?"
"Yes." My lips press together, and I blink back the pinch of more tears. "You were hurt."
"That’s not something you have to worry about, dolcezza." His smile is almost scary. "I’ve been hurt many times. I’m still here."
"This was a different kind of hurt. A deep kind."
"I’ve been hurt like that, too."
"Not like this," I insist.
"Like what?"
"Like... like me."
My gaze drops from his when his eyes become soft and searching.
"I would take it from you if I could," he says quietly.
It’s like he knows... like he knows what the dream was. Because that’s basically what happened.
My head shakes against that thought, not understanding. It doesn’t make any sense. Does he even know what he’s suggesting? If he shared that dream with me, he wouldn’t even think of it. He wouldn’t feel that way. He would probably run, because those demons—as fictional as their corporeal forms were—their essence is real. That’s really what’s inside of me.
Who would want to mess with that? Who would even dare?
"You should leave," I sigh, exhausted all over again.
"No."
It’s gentle but firm.
"Fine. Whatever. But you’re not getting any, so don’t even think about trying." I slide under the sheets and bury myself in the pillow, hoping that I can manage to get through the rest of this night without embarrassing myself further.
Luciano chuckles softly and retreats to a chair in the corner.
"Are you planning on watching me all night? Because that’s not creepy at all."
He ignores my comment. "Dex gave your sister the ring and told her about Saturday. I convinced them to go enjoy some time alone."
"Good," I mumble.
And then I smile into the pillow. Raya must be so excited.
"Don’t tell her about this, okay? She doesn’t need to know. She’ll feel guilty she wasn’t here."
"Okay."
Several long, silent minutes go by, and the darkness eases languidly. My eyelids become heavy before the thought of another nightmare makes a spike of panic shoot straight into my chest.
I lift myself up on one arm, making room for the panic that is bouncing around inside me. Luciano’s head that was tilted to one side, growing heavy with tiredness, straightens when he notices.
"What’s wrong?"
"Nothing."
But he doesn’t buy it, and I understand why. I probably look terrified—eyes wide, chest heaving.
"I’m not going to let anything happen," he informs me. Again.
"Just come lay down. It’s weird that you’re sitting there."
There’s a brief second of hesitation before he wordlessly comes to the bed and lays down on top of the covers. There’s no flash of expectation. No flirtatious wink. No wry smile like this is what he was hoping for all along.
"Get some sleep," he says when I continue to eye him. He scrunches the pillow in half and places it under his head before crossing his arms in front of himself.
I turn over and pull the sheets up to my chin. "Just stay on your side."
Luci doesn’t even bother with a sarcastic reply.
When the heaviness of sleep starts to threaten again, I feel the difference immediately. The darkness is safe now, because he’s here. He’s breathing its same air. He’s sharing it with me.
I want to whisper ’goodnight’ or ’thank you,’ but I don’t. Instead, I close my eyes on the peaceful interlude in this night and pray for the speedy arrival of morning.
