Rejection (The Mate Games 2)

ChapterThirty-Six

SUNDAY

Ihated my fucking dreams. Even now, in the middle of one, I knew it wasn’t going to be good. I balanced on the edge of knowing this wasn’t real and falling into the abyss.

I didn’t recognize this place. The white and black marble floors echoed with the sound of my footsteps as I walked down a seemingly endless hallway. Gossamer curtains fluttered in an invisible wind, the scenery outside the same rolling green hills and craggy cliffs that greeted me the night Caleb broke my heart.

Before the pain of his absence could grip me fully, the thin wails of a baby crying sent my pulse racing.

“Hello?” I glanced around, searching for any other sign of life and coming up short.

Why was there a baby here?

What little furniture there was stood covered in white sheets, like ghosts wandering the space, searching for home. Cobwebs covered every free corner, ancient and collecting dust. This was no place for a child.

The cries pierced the air once more, insistent and needy.

I moved faster, desperate to find the poor thing. Where was its mother? Who would abandon their child in a place like this? My breaths came in harsh panicked rasps as I ran toward the sound, the pull between me and the infant strong. What if something was wrong? What if I was too late?

I finally reached the end of the hallway, spilling out into a room that hadn’t been there the second before my foot hit the pristine carpet. Everything in here was white. The walls, the floor, the crib. Everything except the woman in the center of the space with her back toward me. She was shrouded in blood red, a dramatic statement, appropriate for her.

“Mother?”

She turned in slow motion, the red gown cutting into the white room as though she’d been sliced into it with a knife, beautiful and bloody.

A gasp was torn from my throat. Not because of her presence here. She was a foregone conclusion in my dreams these days. But because of the baby cooing in her arms.

“What are you doing to her?”

My mother stared down at the child, expression softer than I’d ever seen. “She was all alone. She needed me.” She stroked one finger over the chubby little cheek before booping the baby’s nose.

This was wrong. This was all wrong.

My mother, my verynotmaternal mother, should not be anywhere near an innocent child.

But I couldn’t remember why. My thoughts were cloudy in this dream world. I knew that my mother made me uneasy, but not the reason for the sheer panic spiraling through me.

“What is this place?”

“Why, it’s your home, of course.”

I shook my head. “No. I’ve never been here before. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You will.”

The infant gurgled, and my eyes dropped back down to her bundled form. Then she began to cry, her high-pitched thready sobs stabbing me in the chest. My breasts ached, suddenly heavy, nipples tingling in response to the cries of hunger. Then and there, I knew the truth but couldn’t admit it.

“Who is she?”

My mother was slow to look up, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Darling Sunday, don’t you recognize your own daughter?” She tsked. “What kind of mother are you? Leaving her unattended for just anyone to happen upon.”

Palm sliding over my belly, I sucked in a sharp breath. “Give her to me.”

A wicked smirk twisted my mother’s lips. “No. I don’t think you’re ready quite yet.”

My panic only grew at her refusal. “I said give her to me. Now.”

My mother’s face hardened into a horrific visage I hadn’t seen before. The promise of carnage and brutal violence shone in her eyes. “A gift such as this must arrive at the requisite time. Patience is a virtue, after all. Just ask your priest.”