10. Mari

Chapter ten

Mari

M ari, Mari, please, I need you.

Yera? I snap my head in the direction of her voice. The woods are tinted to a shade of deep red, and trees stretch into the sky, gnarled and jagged. Like the forest I traveled in for days is now being shown through a funhouse mirror.

I'm barefoot, scanning the tree line for any sign of my friend. Everything is deathly quiet, all sound taken up by the heavy air.

I'm stuck Mari. Please come help!

Where is she?

The sound, her voice. It feels like it's coming from all directions. Crashing over me like the wet heat slicking the black leaves of the trees. Why is it so fucking hot?

"I'm coming, Yera; tell me where you are," I yell, my voice getting lost, dying in dense black space.

I'm right here, little human.

The voice morphs, grinding at every nerve, every sense in my body. My skin breaks out in goosebumps despite the oppressive heat.

It's there, that creature standing over me like a demon. It reaches its sharp claws out, grabbing me by the throat.

I ' ve got you now, Mariana; you don ' t have your little knife to save you now. Its red, beady eyes stare down at me, gleaming in the black night. Its grip on my throat tightens, with black-tipped claws digging into my skin. I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out.

My limbs are heavy, weighted down. Sleep. Mari, you are dreaming, and you need to wake up. I shut my eyes, and the creature's terrifying voice reverberates through my mind.

You ' re mine, you human bitch .

Wake up!

I shoot up gasping, a cold sweat clinging to my body like a second skin. I tuck my knees to my chest. and wrap my arms around my legs pressing my face into them. My first instinct is for reassurance, to be grounded, to touch my arms, legs, face, anything that will assure me I'm still here. That I'm no longer in that dream. Why did that feel so real?

When my eyes fully open, I can't distinguish between waking and sleep. The space is so black that a hint of panic rises before I can orient myself.

You're at the ogre's house; you're safe for now.

My chest rises and falls. The air fills my lungs, and then I breathe it out slowly. The bed sheets around me are cool to the touch. My fingers twine in the soft fabric, gathering it into my palms. You're safe.

A small blink of light shines beneath the door. Not enough to illuminate the space, but enough reassurance that I'm no longer dreaming.

I palm the table, remembering an oil lamp sitting on the nightstand. My hands meet the cold ceramic and find the switch. The room floods with golden light, a comforting color.

My hands are shaking, cold and clammy. I feel like I've just seen death itself, and maybe I have. Is this what I have to look forward to every night? That thing still living in my nightmares, like an imprint? Always lurking in the back of my head, eager to come out when I have no control?

I rest my palm on my forehead and breathe. In and out, in and out. Letting the warm light in the room fill the darkness creeping into my head. That's all I can do right now. I'm safe, right here, right now. I'm safe from everything but my dreams. And maybe those will fade with time and distance.

This is the first night I've slept comfortably since arriving here. Sure, piles of raw wool are better than the ground, but it's not a bed. I didn't realize how tired I was until I eyed the quiet, cozy room.

I couldn't get into bed fast enough after Soren left me alone. Wrapped in his clothes. They smell like mint and pine, and I bring the cuff of the sweater to my nose for another long, deep inhale.

The scent is calming and the fabric is, too. I run the hem of the sweater through my fingertips. It's become so incredibly soft from age and wear, the way my favorite T-shirts do. Something in this moment eases the tension in my spine—the simple act of touching something cared for, something that holds memories .

This room is small but has a cottage-core charm. It has a small shelf topped with carved and woven knickknacks and a closet piled with linens and blankets of varying fabrics, some woven and some knit.

It was the smallest of the three rooms, but seemed the safest. A single high window meets the ceiling, resembling a skylight. It would be hard for anything to climb in or out.

A shudder runs through me at the thought of that beast in the woods—a terror that blazes anytime I close my eyes, as if burned on me like a curse.

I get out of bed. The air is chilled and humid, a sensation that beckons me back to the warmth of the sheets, but I ignore it. Instead, I pad out of my room and into the hallway, lamp in hand.

The entire house looks made of dark, rough-cut hardwood. Every length of floor is textured by saw marks but sanded down so it's soft to the touch.

The golden lamp light casts a reflection in the space, as if the two colors were intended to complement each other.

A house that feels comforting to its very bones. I'd never admit it, but I'm okay here—for now. From what I've witnessed, this place seems safe. And it smells fucking incredible.

I don't know what Soren made for dinner, but the scent still dances in the air. Rosemary, garlic, and something savory I can't put my finger on. An audible growl vibrates my stomach. Shit, that was loud.

I bring the lamp into the kitchen. Wouldn't you know it? That hulking beast laid muffins out. Beautiful fresh blueberry muffins, still warm to the touch. There is no way. This has to be some kind of magic.

My mouth waters. What could be the harm of eating one, two, or three? I think greedily, gathering three of the dozen into my arms for a late-night snack .

I've just reached the steps when— tap, tap, tap . The sound is gentle on the glass window just to the left of the oversized leather chair.

What sort of terrors could be on the other side of this fragile glass? I back off the landing, muffins wrapped protectively in my grasp, and walk toward the sound. The impulse is too great.

Don ' t look, don ' t go over to it. You ' re safe in this house. It ' s just the wind. An image of the creature hovering outside, watching me through the break in the curtains, comes to the forefront, blotting out any logical explanations.

I squeeze my eyes shut. That ' s crazy; it was just a nightmare. It ' s just a branch on the glass. It's windy and rainy out. That is a normal sound. But I can't help the direction of my thoughts. I'm obsessing, picturing every worst-case scenario.

Tap, tap, tap. The sound grows louder, this time more insistent. The wind howls outside, but the rapping at the window echoes into the space, causing goosebumps to spread on my skin.

My heart thuds in my chest. It's just a tree branch. Stop being an idiot.

What sort of terrors could be on the other side of this fragile glass? I back off the landing, muffins wrapped protectively in my grasp, and walk toward the sound. The impulse is too great.

My feet are quiet on the colorful rug that spans the living room.

The scene, if anyone were to see it, would look ridiculous. Blood rushes to my face and hands while my pulse rings in my ears. A deafening cry to turn around. To go back to my safe room and stop being an idiot.

My eyes go wide as the sounds get louder. My once-heated skin is turning cold. I'm close enough now. I reach for the latch at the window.

"What are you doing? "

The sudden noise in the quiet is so startling that the muffins fly out of my arms. I turn to the source of the sound.

Soren stands halfway down the steps, looking rumpled from sleep, rubbing his eyes as if still dreaming. He's in simple drawstring pants, not much different from mine, and nothing else.

The golden light casts off the expanse of his torso. I avert my eyes. Witnessing his body, corded with muscle and gleaming in the soft glow makes me uncomfortable, my body coiling up, tensing, heating.

Humans definitely don't look like that.

I should apologize for waking him; that would be the polite thing to do. After all, he has welcomed me into his home.

"I was hungry." That is all that comes out. Perfect, Mari, you are a wordsmith through and through.

He looks at the muffins sprawled on the floor and smiles at me, lifting a brow in indignation. This guy has the epitome of a punchable face, handsome but punchable.

"Obviously," he says, swaggering down the rest of the stairs. "What were you looking at?

"Nothing, don't worry about it."

He pauses momentarily, then the rapping at the window begins again. His massive shoulders sag when he looses a deep breath. "There is a lilac bush right outside the window. It always makes noise in the wind."

Well, that makes sense.

"But you look like you've seen a demon. Everything okay?" He asks, raising his brows; his soft, brown eyes scan my face, looking for the answer He knows I won't give him.

I ignore the question, spotting a discarded muffin and grabbing for it. "I'm fine," I grind through my teeth. "Like I said, just hungry. "

He doesn't look convinced but drops the subject. "There is still dinner left in the ice chest. I could get it out and heat some up; it would only take a minute."

That's thoughtful, but I want to return to my room—to the quiet, small space—and wait for the comfort the dawn brings, even if it's clouded over.

"No, a muffin will do."

He looks around, spotting the other two that I threw into the air when he startled me.

" A muffin?" He smirks at me. I don't like that. I don't like that he thinks we are friends and he can tease me.

I grab the rest of the baked goods and toss them onto the counter, not wanting to eat floor food.

He just watches me. Head cocked. Confused.

"I'm not hungry anymore," I spit at him, marching past where he looms in the living room. One being, both man and beast.

His eyes follow me as I walk up the stairs, mouth still slanted in amusement. I want to smack that fucking smile off his face. Maybe I'll get the chance if the rain holds.

"I'll see you in the morning, Mariana." His booming voice fills the quiet house. It is so deep and imposing that it sends goosebumps up my skin. I don't glance back, ignoring how my name on his lips affects my body.

I can't get to my room fast enough. The cool handle is a reassurance I didn't know I needed.

My back goes to the door once inside, the gold lamp light filling the room. My breathing hitches as if I've just gone for a run.

That's not normal. It must be nerves. It must be the bit of panic that has been teasing its way into my consciousness for the past few days.

When I return to bed, the covers are chilled, a sensation that reminds me of home. Funny how familiarity persists, even across worlds and dimensions.

I reach out and turn the lamp off. Let's forget this night ever happened.