“It’s not. Exactly.” He turned to Dorian. “The protocol can go fuck itself.”
“By all means,” Dorian said, gesturing with his teacup like a benevolent monarch.
Hunter nodded, then kneeled in between her legs, one arm on each of her knees. “I am a Tulpa demon. The only other Tulpa demon other than him,” he said, tilting his head toward Dorian.
“Okay.”
“We are created by human nightmares. Human fears.”
She frowned. “So your job is nightmares?”
“Wearenightmares, Daphne. And fear, and the deepest horrors the mind can conjure at night when the heart is at its most vulnerable and honest.”
It was very hard to keep up. It was very easy, actually, but she was having trouble processing all this. Thinking about what it meant for her and for them. She looked at his face, earnest and worried, and she hated how badly she wanted to believe it. Because, apparently, everything had been a lie so...
“Ask me,” he told her. “Ask me and I’ll give you nothing but the truth this time. Not that it was a lie before, technically, but–”
Dorian stopped him mid-tirade. “I’d stop talking and let the lady ask, mate.”
“Right, right.” Hunter tapped her knees. “Ask away.”
So, so many questions whirlpooled in her head until a couple of points started aligning. He was nightmare. She had those her entire life. And if he managed those.... “Did you get in my head?”
He started talking, closed his mouth. Swallowed. “Define getting in your head.”
“You son of a bitch.” She was ready to jump to her feet and kick him, literallyandout of her house, but his hands rose.
“Not when you’re awake. Not after you told me not to.”
“What the fuck does it mean? All the nightmares I had, all these years... are you saying that was you?”
He had the nerve to scoff. “I don’tmake upnightmares, Daphne. That’s all you. What we do most of the time is to guide the dreamer through it as a way to deal with anxiety, fear, or trauma.” There was a pause. “Other times, it’s just us, crushing some bastard that deserves to experience the worst fear. Driving them to madness is fun–but I’m digressing.”
And that’s when another connection came up. “Why did you come to the library that day? The first time. I knew you weren’t there for books. Why did you?”
His face turned serious, almost solemn. “Because you’re a lucid dreamer, and during a nightmare, you punched me. Only, the hit carried onto me in this reality and on this body. Both things couldn’t happen. It needed investigating.”
“I was an assignment,” she whispered, gingerly realizing that despite all she’d suffered, this moment, his words, were what destroyed her. Her heart had been broken before. This was worse.
“Yes,” he said. But then his hand brushed hers in a soft stroke. “But then it changed.” He shook his head. “I came to you because you were an anomaly, the system pinged your case, and I’m the best Dream Devil to deal with those. I came back foryou. Only you. I stayed–for you.” His grip tightened. “I’m here for you, and you only.”
She should’ve been done. That should’ve been the end of it. She’d known there were things he wasn’t telling her, but thiswas... enormous. He’d lied to her. Betrayed her. Walked into her life wearing a mask, speaking half-truths wrapped in charm.
But as bad as it was, that was not what made her want to scream. It was the fact that even now, with her heart cracking down the middle, shetrustedhim. Her instincts weren’t screaming to run; they were screaming to stay, to forgive.
That made her furious.
Furious at him for making her feel safe; at herself for wanting to cling to him even as the truth bled out between them.
Andthatmade her pathetic.
Because he’d broken her trust, but he hadn’t broken her faith in him, and she didn’t know how to deal with that.
Speechless, thoughtless, empty and hurt, she set her eyes on the night outside. “Leave. All of you.”
Dorian started to say something, but his eyes turned sharply on Amelia. Then he sighed and nodded. “Thank you for the tea, love,” he said, offering his hand to Amelia, who took it while giving her a sympathetic smile. They left without a word.
Hunter didn’t move. He stayed there, hurt etched in the deep blue of his eyes. She could feel the tensed pressure of his hands on her as he tried to keep the touch light. Could see the words he was swallowing down to respect her need for time and space. And she couldn’t, just couldn’t, give into the visceral and fierce need to take his hand, to touch him. “Leave, Hunter.”
