“Ari…” his deep, baritone voice whispers my name, fluttering butterflies in the pit of my belly as I slip my hand into his and allow him to pull me closer. One hand settles on my belly, which grows as he lifts a smile to my face.
His blue eyes sparkle with appreciation, holding me captive in their warmth.
“Noah…” he speaks our son's name, and my heart skips a beat just as he leans in and presses a chaste kiss on my lips.
When our lips meet, our worlds collide, and I feel whole again, knowing that I belong in his arms. But as he pulls away, the brightness of the morning is suddenly swallowed by an ominous mist that consumes his smile. I gasp when a threatening screech slices through the air, and Noah's father pushes me firmly, knocking me out of the way just as the mysterious dark creature that chased me in my dreams before emerges from the forest and attacks him.
I scream, but no sound leaves my throat when I witness the ghastly creature tear off my mate's head.
That's when I wake up with the sound crawling up my throat and leaving my lips like a struggling wheeze.
Another cold sweat.
Another horrifying nightmare just when I thought I'd catch a break.
My only consolation is knowing that it wasn't anything more than a dream, and my son is safely asleep beside me.
After tending to the aftermath of another frightening, unsettling nightmare by wiping away the sweat from my brow and quenching my dry throat, I turn to Noah and gently wake him up for the day. He seems to notice my wariness by the way he frowns, but I'm able to douse his suspicions with a series of kisses on his cheeks and some cuddling.
Admittedly, I'm trying to distract myself. The embrace from the dream was one I yearned for, but one I'd forgotten how much I craved when I buried the memory of him and swore to myself that I'd never uncover it.
It was the only way I could protect my heart and shower all my love onto my son.Ourson.
Him being killed by the ominous creature that haunts my nightmares is symbolic of the way I killed him in my memory. Even his name is something I refuse to speak.
It's why I'm afraid of Noah growing older and asking questions about his father. Though I killed the memory of him, he is still out there somewhere.
He's also the reason I refuse to pay heed to my inner wolf that keeps telling me to go back home.
I need to stop letting these nightmares get to me. They mean nothing, and I have to stop being so paranoid.
“Wanna have pancakes for breakfast again?” I ask Noah cheerfully, but it's really just a desperate attempt to distract myself from my mind.
Noah lifts his head, his lips forming a pout. “Want milk and cookies!” he exclaims, to which I giggle.
“Milk and cookies it is!” I concede, sensing that I probably need the sugar more than he does.
***
Lunchtime rolls around at work, and as expected, it’s always our busiest on Saturdays.
Rushing around like a headless chicken, I'm grateful for the busy day, which means I don't spend too much time trying to dissect my nightmares. I take another order to the kitchen and hear the bell chiming on the inside of the front door, signaling another patron's entry.
“Sanchez! Table three!” one of my coworkers calls out from behind the counter, where she's taking orders from the long line of customers wanting carryout.
I nod at the younger woman, then flip my notepad to a clean page, taking a deep breath and plastering a smile on my face before going to table three.
“Hello, Miss Sanchez.” The man purrs my name as he lifts his head, eyes curious behind a pair of thick spectacles.
A fleeting frown passes my brows as I remember the man from yesterday. He was our last customer before we closed, but he wasn't alone last night.
“Hi, I see you've come back,” I smile sincerely.
“Yes. Yes, I have,” he concedes with a charming grin that shows off a set of flashy white teeth. “The food here was delightful, but”—he gestures to the empty seat across from him, brows furrowing with disappointment—“last night's date didn't seem to think I was very delightful.”
“Oh, I'm sorry,” I say in a consoling tone. He genuinely appears disappointed that his date didn't go well, and I can't help but feel sorry for him.
“It's okay,” he shrugs as he lifts the menu to inspect it. “I guess a chocolate milkshake for starters will do the trick to cheer me up…”
