Foretold (St. Bastian Institute 1)

Rebecca nodded. “He didn’t have me for very long, but I’ll never forget the terror. He had no soul. You could see it in his eyes. Two bottomless black pits. He drained my blood but used magic to keep me alive. That’s why what happened to Mr Williams and Angela is bringing back all these awful memories. I know how it feels to have your very life force sucked out of you.”

I reached across the counter and took her hand into mine. “He’s dead now. You’re safe. He can never harm you again.”

A lone tear trickled down her cheek. “Logically, I know that, but there are still bad people out there. People just as evil and monstrous as Theodore. If this demon could harm someone as gentle and kind as Angela, then—”

“I know,” I whispered. “It doesn’t bear thinking about.”

“But I do think about it. I think about it all the time,” Rebecca wept, and I dropped her hand, walking around the counter and pulling her into a hug. We stayed like that for a long time. My sister cried into my shoulder, and I knew she’d never be able to forget the trauma she’d suffered, but she would always have me and Mum and Dad. We would be there for her. We would keep her safe from harm.

Dad appeared in the doorway then. He must’ve heard Rebecca crying. We made eye contact, and he lifted an eyebrow in question. I shook my head to tell him he wasn’t needed, and he retreated back to his study. A little while later, my sister pulled away. I grabbed a napkin off the counter and used it to dab her wet cheeks.

“Why does it sometimes feel like you’re the older one?” Rebecca asked, shaking her head at herself.

“It doesn’t matter who’s older. What matters is that we have each other’s backs,” I said, levelling her with a serious look. “And I have yours. Don’t ever forget it. Any time you need a shoulder to cry on, you can use mine.”

She sniffled softly. “You’re a good sister.”

I smiled. “Good enough to be let off doing my Herbology homework tonight?”

Rebecca gave a watery laugh and smacked me on the shoulder. “Definitely not.”

I threw my hands up dramatically. “What’s the point in having your sister for a teacher if you can’t get preferential treatment?”

“Poor you,” Rebecca teased as she prepared to put away the rest of the pie. I stayed her with a hand. “Leave that.”

“You’re going to eat all of this?”

“Of course. It’s delicious. Besides, it’ll give you the excuse to make another one tomorrow.”

She chuckled softly before leaving me with the pie. Needless to say, I had to brush my teeth twice before I went to bed. I changed into my sleep shirt, with my mind so full of Rebecca’s past and Angela’s attack that I didn’t even think to check in with Peter.

It didn’t take long for me to fall asleep. Sadly, though, Rebecca wasn’t the only one suffering from nightmares. This time it wasn’t just Angela being hunted. I was being hunted, too. We held hands as we ran through the forest, some shadowy, faceless person chasing us through the trees. Pain shot up from the soles of my feet, and I glanced down. I had no shoes on, and the jagged forest floor was cutting into my skin. I stumbled on some fallen branches and fell to the ground, losing my grip on Angela’s hand. She stared back at me, wide-eyed and fearful, then glanced overhead, and undiluted terror filled her gaze.

“Go! Save yourself!” I cried, and she nodded in panic before fleeing. A shadow descended. I started to hyperventilate, sensing the danger closing in all around me, and then …

The nightmare was eclipsed by a dream. A sweet, warm, sexy dream. The kind of dream you really hoped you didn’t wake up from too soon. Strong arms folded around me from behind, pulling me into a solid body. Heat surrounded me as I sunk into the familiar presence, the protective strength and tender affection helping me relax. I was safe now. Safe from the nightmares that wanted to terrorise me.

A smooth hand caressed my cheek, then slid down to my collarbone, scattering tingles along my skin. The hand continued its descent over my shoulder before skimming the underside of my breast, traversing my ribs. I willed the hand to move lower, and then to my sweet relief, it did, whispering over the tops of my thighs.

Another hand caressed my breast, and I stifled a whimper as I turned around, needing more. I buried my face in a warm neck and pulled the body closer, hitching my leg around a hip and pressing myself against a thick, hard erection.

“Darya,” he whispered huskily, and my heart thrummed because I knew that voice. It was Peter. A feeling of reckless abandon took over. This was a dream. I could act out all my deepest fantasies, and no one would ever have to know.