33. Adrianna

33

ADRIANNA

V isions flutter in my mind. Whispers of fated mates, whimsical magic, and white dragons dancing through my dreams. Every breath I take makes the visions weaker as my body wrenches me from the depths of unconsciousness. My muscles ache as I stretch out beneath soft sheets, a hum ghosting over my lips as I sigh, a hint of contentment nestling deep in my gut before I pry my eyes open.

Black curtains flutter in the wind, making my eyes crinkle with confusion. My contentment is halted as uncertainty rushes over me. Pressing my palms against the mattress, I shuffle back until I'm propped against the headboard, which gives me a better view of the unfamiliar room I find myself in.

The sheets spread beneath me and over me are as black as the curtains, which match the carpet, headboard, and every piece of furniture in the room.

Where the fuck am I?

A ripple of magic shivers down my spine at the thought and a split second later, the bedroom door bursts open. I lurch forward, hands patting at my ribcage to find none of my daggers within reach, but my burst of panic quells at the sight of Kryll in the open door frame.

His auburn hair is swept back off his face, finger trail marks running through the lengths as his wide eyes search mine.

"Did you feel that… whatever it was?" I rasp, wetting my dry lips as he nods. He steps into the room, clicking the door closed behind him as he approaches the bed.

"It's like it was telling me to get in here now, making me aware you were awake," he explains, and I take a deep breath. A reminder that the dreams that plagued my vision weren't make believe, but reenactments of the last thing I remember before the world went dark.

It really needs to stop doing that. I'm supposed to be alert and ready to act at any given moment, but it's as if my mind, body, and soul know that I'm safe in their arms.

"Is everyone okay?" I ask, hoping to distract myself from the magic that trembles through my veins.

Kryll sits beside me on the bed, his thick arms coiling around me in a warm embrace before he tucks a loose tendril of hair back off my face. "Everyone is fine. What about you?"

I shrug, which earns me a pointed look before I even speak. "Where are we?" My attempt at distracting from the topic seems to work when he shuffles to get comfortable on the bed.

"Beau's," he offers, making me frown.

"On campus?"

"We didn't know where else to go and you were passed out," he mutters, uncertainty flashing in his eyes, and I shake my head.

"No, you did the right thing. It just seems so…"

"Black?" he finishes, a hint of amusement in his words as I nod in agreement.

The tension eases a little from my limbs as my stare locks on his. "This feels weird," I admit, earning a knowing smile from my dragon.

"I agree. It's like we're jacked up with all of this tension and emotion." I nod, feeling the exact same thing in my veins too. "Brody said it's because the magic worked. They made us fated mates."

I nod, my breath parting my lips in a whoosh as I ask the one thing I'm still a little uncertain about in my tired state. "The puppet?—"

"They didn't achieve that," he interjects, and the remaining stress that was clinging to me eases.

"That's a relief, at least," I offer, wiggling my fingers when the tension doesn't ease from the magic pulsing through my body.

He reaches for my hand, encapsulating it in his own as he runs his thumb over my skin. "Take a deep breath. Brody helped us figure out how to keep it at bay. For now, at least," he explains, pressing his lips to my knuckles before he continues. "I'm sure it will be a thousand times easier for you with your fae mind, but it's all about focusing on your feelings among the madness in here," he states, tapping at his temple with his free hand. "The tingling and overwhelming sensation is because we feel everything. We're all tethered to you, but we're all affected by each other too. The bond between us now is simply strengthened by the magic."

My eyes widen, surprise coating my thoughts. "That's… a lot."

"Yeah. I guess because it's all new, we don't know what it is we're actually feeling. That's probably why it's so manic, but if you can take a deep breath, connect with your center, and focus on your own thoughts and feelings, it should allow you to separate the others. At least enough to put them behind a closed door so it's not so overwhelming," he adds, his smile turning to one of encouragement.

"How did you feel it and know to come in here then?" I ask, intrigued, and he shrugs.

"I kept opening the imaginary door Brody told me to imagine so I could be alert for you," he offers, avoiding my stare with what looks like a hint of embarrassment, and it destroys my heart in the best way possible.

"Thank you. You didn't have to do that," I murmur, leaning into him as he presses another kiss against my skin. This time, it's at the corner of my mouth.

We sit side by side as he gives me a moment to wake up and try to process everything that's happened. I have no idea what time it is, how long we've been here, or anything else besides the two of us sitting here, but it's enough. For the first time, I trust in the foundations surrounding me instead of bulldozing everything to regain control.

If Kryll is sitting calm and collected, then I should take that as a sign that there's no immediate danger to be concerned about.

Time passes and I don't even care about the pace of it. Fast. Slow. It doesn't matter. I take the time to focus on my breathing and my thoughts, slowly separating them from the carnage in my head before invoking the imaginary door in my mind. It works enough to calm the simmering in my veins, and I release a breath I didn't even realize I was holding.

"Better?" Kryll asks, shifting to wrap his arm around my shoulders, and I hum in agreement.

"Much."

"I know it won't last forever, but I'm sure it will be a fun exercise for us to all figure out together," he states, and I stare at him in disbelief.

"That doesn't sound fun."

"It doesn't? I love the idea of the five of us having something special like this. Even if it wasn't our doing, we should focus on the positive. Otherwise, the darkness will consume us, and there's enough of that going around already," he explains, squeezing my arms supportively.

"Oh, I agree on that part. I don't like change, and this feels huge, no matter how much I try to play it down in my head, but my concern is more with having to handle Cassian and Raiden. Between those two, the fight for control is going to be real."

He snickers at my statement. "That is very true. I feel like we should take bets on who will blow first."

"That would be mean, wouldn't it?" I say, amusement lifting the corner of my lips as he shrugs.

"Scared to lose?"

"Me? Never." A lightness settles on my chest, and it practically feels like I'm floating on a cloud.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Nerves threaten to steal the lightness away from me. If he asks about the light, I don't know what I can say because that will take some time. "Of course," I rasp, despite the panic I can feel creeping just beneath my skin.

"Are you ever sad about your ears?" I blink at him. Then I do it again. And again. Startled by his question. To the point where he quickly starts to backtrack when all I do is stare at him. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have asked that. I just?—"

"It's okay. I just wasn't expecting that to be the question. You could have given me five hundred guesses and that still wouldn't have been one of them," I admit, swallowing nervously as he whispers another apology under his breath.

"You don't have to answer," he adds when I still stare at him, my mind swirling with thoughts, but I shake my head.

"No, I can answer, and I want to, I'm just trying to find the right words," I offer, and he nods, stroking his thumb over my arm as I think. He doesn't rush me. He gives me even more time to process my thoughts before I finally clear my throat.

"Fae ears are unique, not just from any other origin, but from each other. They're a symbol of who you are and where you come from, and I love that. I love it so much. You have to watch their mannerisms to detect a shifter, a wolf, a vampire, a mage, or a human. With a fae, it's right there for everyone to see. To wear with pride. When I was small, I remember asking my father why our ears were pointed, and he said, ‘The fae are blessed with pointed ears to symbolize our love for magic and the possibilities that behold us. But they also allow us the privilege of being able to spot someone of our kind in a crowd and seek safety.'"

"That's beautiful," he offers, and I smile despite the sadness causing an ache in my heart.

"I remember running my fingers over them every time I was nervous. That was the first pain I felt when they were taken from me. Running my hands over the scars definitely didn't feel the same," I explain, sharing more of my story than I've ever spoken aloud before. "My father saw the effect it had on me and taught me how to see the positive in the scars, that now my ears symbolize a survivor, that they show my resilience. They represent the pain I experienced and withstood to rise above it. He confirmed that the trauma traumatized me, never diminishing that fact, but he ensured that I didn't let it bring me down, explaining that it made me whole in a completely different way than before."

"Fuck, Addi," he rasps, his watery eyes wide as he searches mine. "Remind me to pat that man on the back the next time I see him," he adds, a shaky smile on his lips as he tries to lighten the mood, and it works. It feels freeing to speak about it with someone, to lower my walls and let someone witness my vulnerability.

Maybe Brody was right about talking about my feelings all along.

"Why do you ask?" I rub my lips together, searching his stare as my words hang in the air.

"If you had a choice now, would you project to the world that you're a fae or a survivor?"

His retort knocks me back a breath as my eyes widen. That's another profound question, one that takes me a hot minute to process before I can even consider an answer.

"If I had the choice, I would proudly wear my ears. I don't need anyone but me to know I survived. The fact that my soul was broken and I pieced it back together is something that only I need, no one else." The words ache as I say them, the truth tasting like acid on my tongue, as if it betrays all of my father's encouraging words that followed the attack that night. But it's the truth and doesn't take away from what I've been through. It never will. It's who I am but not who I choose to be.

Trauma is a dangerous thing. It can wire you to want to right all the wrongs in the world, creating a hero in its wake, or it can sink you into the depths of despair and create a villain as you try to take everything and everyone down with you.

I refuse to be the latter. Always.

Kryll ghosts his hands over my cheeks, turning to face me fully as he searches my eyes. They're frantic and dancing with an uncertainty I've never seen before as he lifts his left hand to his lips, nipping at his fingertip in one swift motion.

Before I can question what he's doing or why he's harming himself, he strokes his finger over my scars, the droplets of blood cool against my flesh as my pulse rings in my ears.

Understanding washes over my soul as my breath stutters in my chest. My nostrils flare as I bite back tears, all while his eyes search mine, a hint of panic in his gaze as I choke out a sob and lift my hands to my ears, ghosting the trail he just took.

My heart ricochets against my chest as my eyes fall closed. I search for the scars that are burnt into my mind as well as my flesh, but that's not what my fingers find.

I gasp and choke as tears stream, unabashed, down my cheeks, staining my skin for all of eternity as I feel the tips of the ears I thought I'd only ever recall in dreams.