Chapter 461: Nightmares
"He’s mine," Violet growled in her sleep.
After spending weeks in medical recovering from her injuries, she was allowed to be on house arrest at home. It was the home where her mother Cressida lived, the home where she grew up, and she was back in her own bed tossing and turning under the covers as the images of two separate males played in her dreams.
Every time she closed her eyes, he was there. The monster who had marked her. He was in the forest after she had been assaulted—towering over her, taking that precious part of her with the vicious puncture of his teeth. Mates were supposed to protect, to keep their partners safe. Instead, he had ripped that sacred part away and taken something even more precious, even more vital—her wolf. Her wolf was gone.
Once her external wounds were healed, the reality that her wolf was gone was like a whole new death that she had to grieve. Her wolf was what made her... her. How could she survive without it? Was she meant to be the only human living in a pack of lycans?
No one knew how to comfort her either. Her mother was horrified. She either denied that Violet’s wolf was gone or avoided the topic of the lost wolf whenever Violet brought it up—diverting her eyes as if she was ashamed of her daughter who could no longer be counted as one of them.
Sylvia was the only one who tried to help Violet by truly listening and accepting what she was saying—accepting that the wolf had indeed been taken. She came by everyday while Violet was in medical, sometimes twice a day, just to listen and offer a caring, supportive presence.
Several times Sylvia offered to perform the energy healing known as reiki, but Violet refused. She didn’t want to be touched. She didn’t want to be hovered over. She didn’t want her intimate, personal space to be approached by another. Not yet. She wasn’t ready. So Sylvia patiently maintained her supportive presence, waiting for the time when Violet might be willing to accept something more to help her.
Now Violet was tossing in her bed, fleeing the mate she was cursed with. He was indeed dead—she had felt him leave—but he remained haunting her dreams. Every time she closed her eyes, he was waiting to take something more from her, as if there could be anything more to take. Perhaps he just wished for her to follow him into death.
She would beg her mind to make Graeme arrive to save her from these nightmares, and inevitably he would, but he was always too late. And the imposter Luna was always by his side, hovering behind him like a puppeteer, pulling his strings with a wicked smile and those monstrous golden eyes. The same golden eyes as the one who marked her.
"He’s mine!" She cried, flipping over under the covers as she argued with the dream version of August.
"Violet," her mother, Cressida, sat on her bed, attempting to gently shake her daughter awake with a defeated look in her eyes.
She was exhausted. Every time Violet fell asleep, the same nightmares seemed to play out. She didn’t know how to help her, and it overwhelmed her with a grief like she had never known.
Cressida had stopped going to the shop that her and Violet ran, closing the doors indefinitely as she tried to focus on staying close to home. No one was visiting the shop anyway. After Violet’s ’announcement’ the morning after Samhain, the whole pack seemed to be avoiding them.
It was no surprise, honestly. The false claims that Violet made were as good as treason. She should have been punished, but Graeme had a soft spot for her daughter. She was thankful for that. Although he had not come to check on her, Cressida knew that it was only because of his reluctance to punish someone who had already lost so much and whom he shared a history with that her daughter was allowed to live and to stay at home rather than in the dungeon.
The unfortunate part was that Graeme’s leniency only fueled Violet’s belief that there was still something between them. That seemed to be the only thing keeping Violet from being swept away by all of the overwhelming loss she had sustained—that and her hatred of their new Luna.
She would not let the delusions about August go. Everyone in the pack felt the union between their Alpha and Luna—even the biggest supporters of the previous council seemed to be taken with the awe they felt at this thread of healing light that seemed to weave through all of them.
But Violet maintained that August was an imposter. It made Cressida fret for her safety. If she continued on ranting like she always did about the Luna witch—a slur against the alyko that her mother never heard her use before—she was going to end up back in the dungeon or worse.
When Sylvia came by each day, she would remind Violet not to bring it up—not to mention August. Not to mention the suspicions or hatred she had for their Luna. Thankfully Violet had listened so far and only focused on the emotional and physical injuries she had sustained when speaking with Sylvia. Cressida would wring her hands nervously, listening just outside the door whenever Sylvia was there.
It was nerve-racking. Why couldn’t Violet just allow Sylvia to help her? To try the reiki... maybe some of her hatred and delusions would leave as well.
"I don’t feel comfortable with it, mother," Violet would growl each time Cressida urged her to do just that.
The most terrifying thing, though, was the way Violet’s eyes would flash when she was angry. And Violet got so angry. She was filled with rage.
The first few times it happened, Cressida convinced herself it was her imagination. Or a trick of light. But it continued to happen. Every time Violet would become filled with anger, her eyes flashed a golden hue.
