Revolution (The Risen Series Book 2)

Chapter 25 ~ Wake Me When It's Over

Things are coming to a close in a few chapters!
Hopefully I will make a start to book three at some point this year

Who's been your favourite side character so far? I have to say, I really did love Padraig...may he rest in pieces...

Chapter 25: Wake Me When It's Over
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Thump.

Stutter.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

My body threw itself forward and my chest heaved with rasping breaths that burned my throat and sent fire down my lungs. Pitch black and silent, my lack of surroundings caused an anguished cry to leave my lips. I was still trapped in my own head after all, and ready to scream, to beg for an end beyond this end. . . until a quiet click sounded to my right, and a lamp flicked on.

Bright white flashed in front of my eyes before it dimmed to an orange glow. I held my breath, gaze moving from the lamp, to the pale hand touching it, up a muscled arm and to the short sleeve of a black shirt.

Dark hair surrounded angled features, and piercing blue eyes were weary and watchful. The lines around his mouth were more pronounced than I remembered too. No, that wasn't right. The image I conjured in my head was from the dream, an imagining of what he might have looked like as a young, human man. The man before me now, staring at me as if I would suddenly bend backwards and start crawling up the walls, was my Atanas.

He relaxed slightly when all I did was stare, his hand falling from the lamp to the edge of the bed.

My tongue felt thick in my mouth and my throat dry and scratchy as I tried to mumble something in my daze. Reality felt more dreamlike than the mass of visions that had plagued me and so many questions fluttered around my head as scents and sounds bombarded my senses with the force of a bulldozer. Where were we? How long had I been out? What had happened?

The last thing I could remember, at least the last thing I was certain was real, was watching my maker die.

"It's me, Shylah. Atanas."

I blinked at him and the reaction only concerned him more, a deep frown pulling at his features. He pressed the back of his hand against my cheek and grumbled when I pushed the offending limb away.

"I know who you are, Atanas," I croaked, a full body shudder taking over at the horrid scratchy sound to my voice. My hand flew up to my throat in concern, fingers grazing various bumps of badly knitted together flesh. The memory of being fed on came rushing back as strongly as if I was going through it again. A groan, or broken yowl, broke free.

More scars to add to my collection. More memories to haunt my sleep. Somehow, this was so much worse than all the rest. I could ignore the silver scars from Airell and his friends but this one. . .

Sitting slowly on the edge of the bed, Atanas stilled when I flinched. His expression softened as he watched me finger my new battle scar. "It still has a ways to heal. Una is keeping an eye on it."

I nodded numbly. It was silly to be upset about something so superficial but tears filled my vision anyway and I looked away so Atanas couldn't see. Eyes scanning the room to distract myself, I landed on the familiar wonky chest of drawers and matching wardrobe pushed against the dark red walls. Taking in the rest of the room, I realised the all of the furniture was ours. We were home. But how? Had I really been locked in my head for enough time to travel from Romania to Scotland?