Beauty In Her Madness (Winterland Tale #3) - Stacey Marie Brown Page 0,94

I tried to pry my eyes open wider, but my body refused, sleep trying to sweep over me again.

“No, you can but you won’t. There is a difference.”

He growled, his head bowing.

“It’s time,” she huffed.

“Wait until at least tomorrow.” The light from the doorway was blocked as he puffed up his shoulders.

“You still have a weakness for her,” she hissed. “She will destroy you too.”

“You don’t know her.”

The woman scoffed, a laugh buckling from her throat. “I know her far better than you think.”

The woman shifted out of Blaze’s shadow as my lids drifted closed, an alarm drumming down my spine. Blackness crashed down on me like an avalanche, crushing me beneath, yanking me away before the warning could reach my mind.

“We want you to feel better, Dinah.” Mom crouched down in front of me, her palm cupping my tear-stained cheek, wiping it with her thumb. She was so beautiful to me. I wanted so much to grow up to be like her. “Don’t you want to feel better? Not so scared all the time?”

My long hair tickled my arms as my head bounced, my nose sniffling loudly.

“This woman is here to help you, baby.” She nodded to a person behind me, a short woman standing in the doorway.

A therapist, they told me. Someone who would help us with things we couldn’t work out on our own.

Mommy and Daddy said I needed to talk to someone. Someone who could help my nightmares go away.

I never could fully explain what I dreamed, the details slipping away soon after I woke up, but I would wake up screaming in utter terror, shaking and throwing up. I remembered trying to run, to get away from something chasing me, but I couldn’t move. The scary creature crept up on me in the dark. A boy cried from a distance, the sound echoing in my head so loudly I’d wake up sobbing.

“Dinah, sweetheart?” Mom tucked a strand of my brown hair behind my ear. “Can you please try to talk to her? I merely want you to get better.”

I nodded, sniffling again.

“You are so brave, sweetheart.” She leaned up, kissing my forehead before standing, her hand cupping mine, turning us toward the room. I kept my head down, too shy, scared, and embarrassed to look at the stranger. I could feel her eyes on me, making me want to dart out of the office and hide.

“Come in, Dinah. It’s so nice to meet you.” The lady’s voice was low and smooth, but it prickled my skin, making something stir in my chest.

“Dinah?” Mom squeezed my hand, her tone one she used when she wanted me to be polite to new people.

Sucking in, I lifted my head, my mouth opening to reply, but nothing came out. I took in the lady.

White, short, styled hair, thick-rimmed black glasses, red lips.

I took a step back, a trickle of fear zooming up my chest, my legs itching to run, but I had no idea why.

“Hello, Dinah.” Her mouth curved into a smile. “I’m Dr. Mari Bell.”

My eyes burst open, alarm cutting through the murky, sticky darkness wanting to keep me in its hold. Terror zinged up the back of my neck, clutching my chest.

“You are awake.” A woman’s voice jolted my head to the side. The sun had lowered behind the horizon, enveloping the room in heavy shadows, shrouding a petite figure strolling from the kitchen area, her red lips curved into a malicious smile.

Dr. Bell?

My grasp on understanding flipped over, spiraling me into panic. My brain fought with her being in this world, like a puzzle piece that didn’t fit—or so you thought. Alarm wrapped around my throat as my memory of her as a child coiled with my recent ones. Sitting up defensively, my gaze darted over the room, and I searched for help.

“He had to run an errand.” She moved to the side of my bed. “I promised to watch over you.” Her icy blue eyes were so clear, looking so much like Frost’s. I had no idea how I didn’t see it before.

“You missed your session, Dinah.” Her lips twisted with smugness, like she was enjoying playing with me. “I was really worried.”

No words came off my tongue as I stared in horror, the memory of her crystal clear. The woman who had been my therapist both as a child and now.

Mrs. Miser.

The mother of Frost and Blaze.

The woman who was supposed to be dead.

I had no time to consider any of the factors, instinct