Reclaimed

Now.

“Sabrina!”

She groaned at the shout and broke into a full run. She didn’t need to worry about being quiet anymore—but she needed to run as fast as her little legs could manage.

Stinking short legs.

She glanced over her shoulder nervously and caught a glimpse of the fighting brothers. Not daring to watch, she turned back to her flight, only to tumble to the ground. Her foot had gotten stuck in a grasping root, and it twisted painfully from her fall. Her hands burned where rocks had scraped into the tender skin, and her ankle throbbed.

When her stubby legs weren’t slowing her down, her damn clumsiness did the trick.

Knowing she couldn’t waste time nursing her wounds, she yanked, pulled, and cursed at her foot, but could not get loose.

Come on…couldn’t she catch a break?

A thud sounded beside her, and Isaac reached for her foot. She screamed and pulled free, falling backward from the power. Isaac hovered over her, his face bathed in concern, and she shoved him away using all her force. His widening eyes and mouth falling open comically as he tumbled flat on his back were the last things she saw.

She jumped to her feet and ran away from him as fast as her short, annoyingly clumsy legs could take her, and didn’t look back.

***

Sabrina sat upright in her bed, panting for breath. A glance at the clock told her it was a few minutes past one. Her body still trembled from the adrenalin rush she’d experienced in her sleep, and her legs ached from her desperate escape earlier.

Wait, why did her legs hurt? It’s not like she’d actually been running. It had been a dream. She brushed her hair out of her face in confusion and flinched at the stinging pain in her palms.

Her hands shook as she reached for the light beside her bed. The first try, her hand slipped off the switch, the second she knocked over the cup next to her bed, the third she plain old missed, and the fourth, she finally succeeded in turning on the stupid light. She blinked rapidly as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the blinding light. Once she could see again, she raised her hands in front of her face with dawning dread. Blood and dirt streaked her palms. She bolted out of bed and screeched when she noticed the dirt and leaves scattered across the sheets.

She clutched the edge of the bed for support as dark spots swam before her vision. Dismayed, she realized that for the first time in her life, she was going to faint.

Chapter Four

Sabrina noticed three things upon awakening. First, she wasn’t on the floor. Second, morning had come. And last, she didn’t have dirt all over her any longer. Her hair seemed damp to the touch, yet she couldn’t remember having showered. She hopped out of bed and ripped the covers back.

Spotless.

A glance at her hands revealed they were a little red, though they no longer stung or had blood on them. She sank onto the edge of the bed and dangled her feet. What exactly had happened last night? Had she dreamed she had woken up, when in reality she had still been sleeping?

It had happened before, many times. She was a writer, for God’s sake. Overactive imagination kind of came with the trade.

But why were her hands sore? And why couldn’t she remember showering?

It sounded feasible she had been distracted yesterday by thoughts of Isaac and walked around in a daze, preparing for bed and not paying attention. It made much more sense than believing she dreamt about being in the forest while two Isaacs fought over her, only to awaken dirty and hurt.

Now that would be impractical.

***

Frustration coursed through Isaac’s tense muscles as he thought of Sabrina. He’d had his second-in-command, Connor, watching Sabrina, and discovered his fears had come true. His bloody brother came to her in her dreams. Isaac had been dream-stealing—so to speak—and he’d seen Elijah come to her. He’d managed to scare Elijah away while not being seen all the other dreams, until tonight. Tonight, he’d lost his cool. It only made sense when, upon first seeing her in the tavern, she’d look at him as if she’d seen a ghost. No one looked at someone in something akin to horror and excitement unless they had a damn good reason to do so.

He knew why he gaped at her, of course, but she had no excuse.

He wondered how long his brother had been appearing to her, and if she thought Elijah was actually Isaac, appearing to her in her sleep.

That left just one question running through his mind: could any of that be used to his advantage, rather than his disadvantage?

He wished he could hear what she had going through her head this morning, and that he kept her company in her bed so he could question her. Tactfully, of course, so she wouldn’t run away, screaming for help.

He knew with a certainty he couldn’t explain, or describe, as he sat thinking of her, she surely attempted to make sense of her “dreams.” She’d probably insist to herself they were just dreams—nothing more. She probably sat in her normal little world, analyzing her normal little life, and tried to make all the latest occurrences fit into a pretty little box.