Whispered Darkness by Jessica Sorensen Page 0,32

and I’m glad. I was worried about him not getting enough sleep when he told me he’d stay awake. I protested, but he had insisted. I’m just glad he passed out. Well, that’s what I think until his pinkie tightens on mine.

“Your pillows smell like you,” he murmurs. Exhaustion cracks in his tone, which makes me question if he did go to sleep.

“Is that a bad thing?” I shiver as he skims his pinkie along the inside of mine.

He shakes his head from side to side then turns his head and looks at me. “It smells like sugar and cotton candy.”

“Aren’t those kind of the same thing?”

“Sort of, but the scents are a little different. And your smell has a little bit of something else … something sweeter.”

“You’re making it sound like I douse myself in sugar.” I smile.

He smiles back. “I’m starting to wonder if you do.”

And just like that, I want to kiss him. Meld our lips together and kiss him until I have to get up. But I’m not sure if I should. Sure, we made out last night for a bit, but then we never really talked about it. And before that, he’d seemed apprehensive about me kissing him. Not that I believe he didn’t want to kiss me. I’m pretty sure he did.

Once again, I go completely against my thoughts and move forward, lightly brushing my lips against his.

He sucks in a shuddering breath as I move back and look him in the eye. He doesn’t say anything, his gaze searching mine, question marks flooding his eyes.

“What was that for?” he murmurs.

I shrug. “For saying I smell sweet.”

Nervousness webs through me when he doesn’t say anything else.

Maybe he regrets the kiss last night?

Maybe he thinks—

He melds his lips against mine, kissing me. Then, instead of pulling away entirely, he rests his forehead against mine, molding his hand around my side.

“You snore when you sleep,” he mutters through his soft inhales and exhales.

That so wasn’t what I was expecting him to say.

“I do not,” I protest, but laugh. “Do I?”

He nods. “You totally do.”

Normally, I’d be embarrassed but, for some reason, I’m not.

“Did you stay up the entire night?” I ask.

“Pretty much.” With his fingers, he plays with the hem of my shirt, his fingers brushing across my side. “I think I dozed off for a few minutes right before you woke up.”

“I hate that you had to stay awake all night, but it might’ve been a good thing.”

He slants back to meet my gaze. “Why?”

“Because I had another very realistic dream. Only, instead of wandering to the lake, I wandered into some random old cemetery in the middle of the forest.” I scoot closer to him. “I saw this raven on this massive angel tombstone, and when I walked up to it … Star’s name was on it. Right after that, Beth whispered in my ear that it was a warning. After that, I woke up. But … like the dream I had where I walked to the lake, it felt really real. So much so that I thought, when I woke up, I’d be standing in that cemetery.”

“That’s creepy,” he says. “And the fact that it said Star’s name on the tombstone …”

“That might’ve been because we were talking about her right before I fell asleep. Although, on the tombstone it said: Here lies Star Winterford, fallen angel and maker of death, whatever that means.” A shiver runs up my spine. “It sounds really creepy.”

“The whole thing does.” He shifts, propping up on his elbow. “Do you know where the cemetery is?”

“It was definitely in one of the woods in town, and the air smelled muggy, so I’m guessing it’s by the lake.”

A pucker forms between his brows. “That’s weird … I’ve been all around the lake and have never seen any signs pointing toward a cemetery.”

“I know … I think it was in the trees pretty far. And honestly, it looked old enough that there might not even be a path or road to it.”

“But if it’s old, then why did you see a tombstone for Star there?”

“I don’t know … Like I said, maybe I only dreamt about it because we were talking about her right before we fell asleep. Maybe the cemetery doesn’t exist.” I worry my teeth between my lips. “I don’t know. It kind of felt like it was real … And it kind of—still kind of feels—like I need to find it. I mean, if it does exist,