Dark Curse (Darkhaven Saga #5) - Danielle Rose Page 0,1

can do is obey its silent order.

I pull back the covers and rise from bed before I even make the decision to stand. I tiptoe, walking around the four-post bed, trailing my fingertips along the mattress top. My fingers snag in the blankets, and I freeze, glancing over at Jasik.

We decided he would stay in my room the night I returned home. For the first week, he slept in a chair. The next week, I woke to find him on the floor. He balled his jacket into a makeshift pillow. After that, I told him to come to bed with me. He was hesitant, but he conceded when I starting having the nightmares. After several nights in a row of waking the entire manor with my screams, we knew we needed to try something else.

The first night I dreamed, the other hunters—Malik, Hikari, and Jeremiah—rushed into my room, expecting to find a bloodbath, only to see me drenched in sweat, cradled in Jasik’s arms as I screamed about the witches and how they were coming for their revenge. The details are still fuzzy. I do not remember most of the nightmares, but I do remember the way they made me feel. That fear has clung to me since the day I escaped captivity, and it is tightening so ruthlessly around my chest, I can barely breathe even when I am awake.

I feel it now. The familiar sense of being asleep leaves a stagnant odor in the air, but still, I have to ask myself.

Am I dreaming?

I cannot always tell. I feel controlled, as if I am not aware of my actions until after I commit them. But this does not feel like a dream. This does not even feel like a nightmare. It is just me and Jasik and the horror my life has become.

He seems unbothered by the rustling of sheets, even though I have pulled them tighter over his frame. I am surprised he is using them at all. He rarely sleeps with the covers on. Too often, I wake to find them bunched all around me, but today, he is covered from his waist down. Still, one leg dangles free.

I am still staring at him when I step on a loose floorboard. I hold my breath. I freeze, letting the room settle into silence once again before I continue—this time actually watching where I am walking.

At the end of the bed, I grip the footboard, my heart steadily hammering in my chest. The constant thump has reached my ears, and it is all I can hear. I try to breathe slowly, calmly, chastising myself for being far too emotionally invested in this window. But even as I mentally berate myself in a sad attempt to regain my composure, my fear never lessens.

I do not know why I am so scared. I am not even sure if my concern is for the sunlight, which is slowly creeping closer to my bed, or because I am desperate not to wake Jasik. After disturbing his sleep more times than I care to admit, I worry that he is not resting enough, especially when he still has his daily patrols.

I have already rounded the bed, and I am now on the side Jasik sleeps on. I glance at him, and he still sleeps peacefully. I find myself wondering what he dreams about and if he sees me. I used to dream about him all the time.

“Are we happy?” I whisper mindlessly, but I quickly suck in a sharp breath, scolding myself for being so stupid.

Jasik frowns and shifts in his sleep, but he does not fully wake. I release the breath I was holding and try to calm my nerves.

I want to touch him, but I do not. I know he would wake. So I allow myself to hover above him. Using my hand, I map the sharp edges of his strong body, balancing my arm several inches above his frame. He never moves, and I am certain he does not even know what I am doing here.

My bed is encased in sheer fabric, but it is pulled back now. I have not used it as an enclosure since the night I returned, when I awoke screaming, fearing I was still in captivity. I looked around, and even with Jasik assuring me that I was safe, I felt trapped. I could not escape. Now, the fabric twists around the four posts that nearly reach the ceiling. I have no intention of