8. SLEEPLESSNESS

8

SLEEPLESSNESS

T he heavy double doors separating the throne room from the rest of Blackthorn Manor splintered. The shrill alarm that followed threatened to make Aiden's eardrums bleed. His preternatural healing would repair the damage, but the sudden shock made his head reel.

Chaos erupted around him.

Dozens of rogue Vasirian charged down the long hallways, weapons in hand. Somehow, rogues had breached the security of the manor and were headed straight for them.

King Adrian rose to his feet, the vein at his temple standing out in a clear sign of his rage at the intrusion into their sanctum.

"Clear the area!" he shouted. "Take the side doors and head toward the staff quarters. Libby, show them where to go. Quickly!" He pivoted when a tall woman dressed like the servants of the manor approached him. "Where is my security detail?" The unmasked ferocity in his bellow made her spine straighten.

Libby turned to the Blackthorn Academy group. "Hurry! Quickly! "

As they followed her at a run toward a side door, Lukas covered Blaire's ears to protect her human eardrums. If the alarm had shocked his system, Aiden couldn't imagine how difficult it was for her to endure. Headmistress Velastra, Seth, and Riley followed as the shouting grew louder.

Aiden glanced back. A couple of rogues were converging on them. If he didn't do something, they wouldn't all make it through the door before the rogues stopped them.

His eyes met his little sister Riley's. He couldn't let anything happen to her.

"Get her out of here," he snapped, his gaze connecting with Seth's.

He pushed Riley into Seth's arms and pulled the door closed as her screams of protest filtered through the door.

"What? No! Don't you leave him!"

Swallowing down the emotion bubbling up in his throat, he turned from the door to face the incoming attack. He hoped this wasn't the last time he would see his family.

His eyes flew open, and he took in huge swallows of air, trying to resurface from the miasma that held his mind captive.

Sitting up and pushing the covers away from him, he drew his knees up and propped his elbows on them. He held his face with trembling hands. Sweat ran in rivulets down his temples from his damp hair.

After taking a moment to compose himself, he turned on the lamp on his bedside table. Light flooded the room, and he took a breath when the familiar sights of his dorm came into focus.

Closing his eyes, he took a calming breath, reflecting on the latest nightmare.

If it hadn't been for Dominic's help, he wouldn't have made it out of the throne room to reunite with the others.

Fighting the rogues came easy; he had the strength to match theirs, if not more than some. The problem came when they fought dirty and several attacked at once. He would have taken a blow to the back of his head if Dominic had not stopped the rogue sneaking up behind him brandishing a pipe.

Even then, it didn't stop him from dying.

Shoving away the covers pooled over the lower half of his legs, he climbed out of bed and moved to his computer, resigned to another night of minimal sleep.

He slumped in his desk chair, booted up his computer, and threw on a set of headphones.

Online gaming, perfect for insomnia.

Opening Discord, he checked to see if any of the people he sometimes played with were online. His brows rose when he saw Charlotte's online status. He looked at the time. Three in the morning. What was she doing up at this hour? Even on a Friday, he seldom saw her online this late.

He took his headphones off and got up, snatched a white T-shirt off the foot of his bed, and tugged it over his head. He lowered himself into his chair again and put on his headphones, clicking the button to connect to a video call.

It took so long to connect he thought maybe she was asleep, and her status hadn't changed to away.

When her web camera flickered on, he smiled. "Hey," he said, sitting back in his chair. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

His smile faltered and fell flat at the sight of the pale girl on the other side of the screen. Other than her red, irritated-looking nose, her fair skin that always held a natural blush looked ashen. Her startling malachite eyes glistened like she had been crying.

"Charlotte? What's wrong?"

Her laugh sounded strained and forced as she swung her head from side to side. "Nothing's wrong. What do you mean? Why're you up so late?"

Lying again.

The last time they spoke, Charlotte seemed off and denied having any problems, but she didn't have a good poker face.

"You look like you've seen a ghost. You're not watching horror movies again this late, are you?"

"One time," she said with a huff, rubbing her face. "That was one time, and I said I'd never watch them alone again."

Around the time they returned from Europe, he talked to Charlotte at midnight, interrupting a horror movie marathon. After he let her go, she called him back an hour later, freaking out. She was used to watching scary movies while living with her mothers, not alone.

"Then what's going on? You look scared to death."

She looked to the side and mumbled, "Long night."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Nope." She sighed. "No, sorry. It's been a long night. I forgot I had a meeting with my group to hash out the last stuff for our presentation next week, and after I left…"

When she remained silent a moment too long, he prompted, "After you left?"

She looked back at the screen. "I think the stress and heat are getting to me."

"How so?"

"Ma always said I have an overactive imagination like Mom." She gave a mirthless laugh. "I think she's right."

For a long time, it confused him how Charlotte called her mothers different variations of their title. She didn't call them by their names; instead, she called her mother Sara, "Mom," and her mother Elizabeth, " Ma." He was sure it prevented confusion in their household, but it took him a while to wrap his head around it.

"Why do you think that?"

"Saw a couple together in an alley, but thought the guy was hurting his partner. Thought…" She waved a hand. "It's stupid. Maybe a side effect of my new medicine."

"New medicine?" He didn't know she took medicine.

"Well, not so new anymore. Been on it for a little bit, but I wasn't on it down there."

He wouldn't ask her what she took medicine for. It was her private business. But he couldn't help but feel concern for her. What ailed her to the point she needed medication regularly?

A loud noise came through his headphones, and Charlotte jumped on the screen, staring to the right with wide eyes. From the shake in the picture, she was trembling.

"What was that?"

She lowered her head, shaking it, once again laughing without humor. "Probably drunk undergrads stumbling home from a party. Heard them laughing after they hit my door. Probably fell into it, actually. Wouldn't be the first time."

Something was no doubt going on if things like drunken college kids in her hall made her jumpy. He needed to go see her.

"Enough about that." Her head canted to the side, a tendril of hair falling from the bundle on top of her head. "Why are you up so late?"

"Bad dream."

"Again?"

"Yeah, again."

"Aiden." The way she blew a quick breath after saying his name in exasperation puffed her cheeks out. "This has been how long now? The nightmares, I mean. "

His shoulders lifted.

He knew the answer, but if he told her, it would lead to questions. Questions he couldn't answer for her. Still, she worked it out herself—he could see it in how she considered him with a look of concentration. She then asked him what he wished she wouldn't.

"Did something happen in Europe?"

"What? Why?"

"You've had these nightmares since you got back."

His knee jiggled up and down and he tapped his finger on the desk, glad she couldn't see below his chest. "Coincidence, I'm sure." He hated lying to her. Lying went against his nature, but it became necessary to protect both himself and her.

"What do you dream about?"

Charlotte asked him once before what his nightmare entailed when he made the mistake of mentioning it was always the same, but at the time, she had a visitor show up and had to cut the call short. He doubted someone would visit at three in the morning, but he could hope.

"It's not always clear." Not a lie. "I'm sure it'll go away." A big fat lie.

Until he went to the psychology department and spoke with a professional like both Blaire and Riley suggested, he doubted this would ease. Even then, he wasn't sure how talking about what happened would change what his subconscious put him through nightly.

He couldn't remember the last time he experienced a proper sleep.

Charlotte stretched, her back arching and pushing her chest out, exposing a large swath of smooth, pale skin when her tank top rode up to her ribs.

Fuck me .

More and more, he found himself attracted to her. The first time he saw her dressed in the too-tight, too-short, red mini-dress her old boss made his employees wear at the diner, it shocked him how much he found her attractive. Especially when not long before, he had convinced himself he felt something for Blaire.

Discovering that the feeling was connected to their ancestors and the magic of their bond made a lot of the deep feelings of love he developed for Blaire make sense.

Charlotte couldn't be the same, could she? He doubted it. How could he have the dying will of more than one person inside of him? No. This felt genuine. This felt like a different kind of pull.

"One sec," she said, taking off her headphones. She stood and moved across the room, giving him an unobstructed view of her bare legs. The tiny shorts she slept in made her legs appear longer; though she was all of five-four, her proportions were perfect.

When she stepped out of frame, he leaned back and sighed.

He wasn't a priest. He could appreciate the beauty of a woman. Not in the way Seth used to by sleeping around, but he wasn't immune to the opposite sex. Like appreciating a painting, he could objectively see where a woman held appeal or didn't.

He wasn't one for casual sex, though. Didn't get flustered over being around a pretty girl. He'd had a girlfriend he lost his virginity to in high school, and he could count the number of girls he slept with on one hand. Only three carried the girlfriend moniker.

To say he was picky was an understatement. It wasn't that he had a physical type; he required an emotional connection to pursue anything. The only person he slept with who wasn't a girlfriend reinforced that sentiment when, after sleeping with her, he felt hollow and more than a little embarrassed. The sex had been terrible, and he struggled to stay aroused. He didn't even finish. After that, he didn't try with her again—he didn't see the point when he didn't enjoy it. It felt more like work than connection. Eventually, they broke up.

His friend Mera said he sounded demisexual, but he didn't know what that meant. After researching it, it made sense. He never thought to label it, though. He was simply himself. But it fit enough to consider it.

He had made a move on Blaire only after they developed a close friendship.

It took a connection with someone before his body responded, so it alarmed him the day he met Charlotte and his cock stood up and took notice when all she did was speak to him. That had never happened before.

Charlotte flopped down onto her chair and put her headphones on her head. "Sorry about that," she said, snapping him out of his thoughts. She held up a tumbler and shook it. The ice rattled inside the metal container, sounding tinny through the small mic on her headset. "Wanted to get some tea. It's too hot. I wish this heat wave would pass, but it's supposed to be here another week or two."

Georgia hadn't experienced a heat wave this severe in two years. A drought hit the area and didn't let up until the months leading up to Blaire joining Blackthorn Academy, when it rained and stormed as if Mother Nature were making up for lost time.

"I wish this place had a swimming pool." She paused, a cute frown tilting her lips. "Though I'm not sure I'd use it right now if it did."

"Why's that?"

She groaned and rested her head against her chair, exposing her bare throat where a few damp tendrils stuck to her neck. "Probably shouldn't have said that."

"You're gonna have to tell me what's up."

Although her color had returned to normal and her voice sounded less strained, she continued to keep him locked out. It got under his skin.

"I told you—"

"You've told me nothing."

"Because that's—"

"Not all there is."

"Ugh. Seriously?" She leveled him with a look he suspected was supposed to be intimidating, but it made her cuter. Like an angry kitten.

"Talk to me, Charlotte. I swear I won't judge you, whatever it is."

She visibly wilted.

When she put her elbows on the desk and buried her face in her hands, he assumed she wasn't going to say anything. He worried he'd crossed a line and pushed her too far until she met his eyes through the screen.

"I think someone has been following me."

He sat up straighter. "What? What are you talking about?"

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, before she drew in a long inhale and released it in a laugh. "I thought I was crazy. Thought I was being paranoid about a new town and being away from my moms. But so much has happened that proves it isn't all in my head."

"Like?"

He unclenched the fist resting on the desktop. He needed to remain calm, but every protective instinct he had flared inside and told him to drive to Athens immediately.

"It's a lot. I don't want to get into it right now. It'll just upset me, and I'm really tired."

While he wanted to push, he had to respect her wishes. Clearly, she looked tired. Faint shadows lay beneath her eyes, something she probably covered with makeup during the day. A clear sign the situation made her lose sleep—not specifically her school woes.

"What would you like to do?" he asked, instead of pressing her for more information. He could get that later when he paid her a visit, because nothing would keep him from dropping in now that he knew her discomfort and stress went beyond normal college life.

"Sit under an air conditioner and play video games naked for maximum cooling."

He snorted, pushing aside the mental image of all her pale skin on display. "Why can't you?"

"Well, the air conditioning sucks."

"We could play video games, at least." He refused to address the naked part.

"Naked?" She screwed her eyes up. She would be the one to address it then.

He turned it on her, trying to direct his thoughts to more comedic grounds. "Trying to get me naked?" Her situation and how she looked because of the heat tested his resolve as he pivoted between frustration and arousal.

She spluttered, "What? N-no!" When he smirked, glad she'd taken the bait to lighten the mood, she mumbled, "You are such a dick."

He shrugged. "You're the one trying to see it."

Her eyes rounded in alarm, and he burst into laughter.

"Wow… just… wait." She smacked her desk and pointed at him through the screen. "I'll have you know I've practically seen you naked anyway!"

It was his turn to flounder and trip over his words. "What? When?" He would remember that. He remembered nothing like that.

She drew up and covered her mouth with one hand. With a quick shake of her head, she muttered, "Never mind. "

"What was that?"

"Never mind."

"You're gonna sit there and tell me you saw me naked and then not elaborate?"

She dipped her head, leaving him staring at a mess of beautiful, fiery copper curls, and said, "Tybee Island." After a beat of silence, she lifted her head. "Did you hear me?"

"Yes, but I'm trying to think of when and how you saw me naked. I don't think I ever got that drunk." Not to mention his body would burn through the effects of alcohol fast enough that unless he shotgunned drinks all night, he would remain tipsy at best.

"The truth or dare game. When you streaked around the house."

"Oh." Ohhh. "You watched?" He couldn't stop the smug grin that crossed his face. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but a part of him liked the idea she wanted to watch him, even if it surprised him.

He shifted in his seat; it seemed more parts than only his brain liked the idea of it.

"I didn't see anything."

His head tilted. "You said you saw me naked."

"Well." Her face flamed as bright as her hair. "I saw you without your shirt, and I didn't look away fast enough, so I saw some of your butt."

"So no dick. Now I understand why you're trying to see it."

"What?" she shrieked.

He couldn't hold it together. He tried. Getting a rise out of her was becoming addictive.

"That's it. Get it all out." She stuck her tongue out at him, but then dropped her eyes. "At least I'm good for something."

The laughter died a swift death in his throat. "What?"

She waved him off. "Nothing. It's stupid. I'm just being dumb. "

"You're not dumb. Why would you say that about yourself?" He sat back and crossed his arms. "You're good for a lot of things. I wasn't laughing at you. I found the situation funny."

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"Hey. Come on." He wasn't sure what made her feel stupid; she was anything but, as evidenced by her easy entry to UGA. "You're smart. I don't like you talking bad about yourself."

"I'm sorry. There's a lot been going on lately that makes me feel like I've made a lot of stupid choices."

"If it helps, think of it this way… To get into a state university and have a head level enough to realize what you want out of life instead of going with the flow and sticking with a program you hate takes more than many people our age can manage."

She lifted one shoulder. "I guess."

"No. Seriously. Say it with me. ‘I'm smart.'"

"You're ridiculous."

"And you're stalling."

"I'm smart," she muttered.

"What's that?"

She tucked her chin and smiled. "I'm smart."

"That's better."

Seeing her smile after the way she looked when they started the video call lifted a tremendous weight from his chest.

"I think I'm finally sleepy," she said, rubbing her eyes.

He hoped talking to him would help ease her stress. He wouldn't fool himself into thinking he relaxed her enough to rest, but he could provide a distraction from the day-to-day monotony.

"Sleep. I should probably try again myself."

She rubbed her shoulder, and a look of concern crossed her face. "You can call my cell if you have another dream. "

"I'll keep that in mind. Goodnight, Charlotte."

"Night, Aiden."

The video call disconnected, and he slumped in his chair.

Someone had her frightened. That much he knew for sure. She hadn't admitted to being afraid, but her mannerisms screamed the truth for her.

It was time to pay Athens a visit.