Chapter Eight

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I feel my heart begin to panic.

I'm still in the same bed, right? There's nothing out of place, is there? The room is so dark I can't see anything. And without my wolf it makes it harder to use my night-vision.

Something crawls up my hand. Ew, what is it? I try not to make a sound, but at this point my heart is choking me. The ability to breathe is so hard that I feel my fingertips turn cold and numb. I can't feel the blankets, or the wisps of air embracing me. I can't feel anything put the sweat tumbling down my face. I can't see anything but the heartbreak in my parent's eyes as I slipped from their grasp once again.

I try to calm myself down and focus on my breathing, just like my therapist always told me to do, but it's a lot harder when my mind is screaming and my heart is climbing up my throat. My back is wet from trying to concentrate and finally, I can't take it anymore. Panic finally wins and seizes me.

"Jackson!" Throttles me. "Jackson!" Runs me into the wall. "Jackson!"

I can't even hear myself yell. To my ears, it's like I'm not even yelling. The world around me is black, something is wrapped around my arm (probably chains) and I don't know where the hell I am! I know my body and mind have every right to panic, but I can't even control myself in my panic mode. It's odd, because this seizing, heart-stopping, desperate feeling hasn't arisen in me for years! Not since I was taken by Alpha Banastre and had experienced my first night. It feels, exhilarating, in a sense, like I'm breaking away from the chains of my past, but it also creates an ache in me. An ache for comfort, for stability, for the ability to understand if I'm okay or not.

Thinking about my feelings helps me calm down after a while, but my heart still titters about, anxious. I begin to try and assess what I can do to get out, but when I move, the thing around my wrist wraps around me tighter. It's kind of rough and chafes against my skin. Nothing binds my feet except a heavy overlay of some sort, but before I can jump to any wild conclusions, the door opens.

Through the light of the hallway, I can see Jackson stumble into the bedroom. His glowing eyes create two dots in the dark when the door closes, and internally, my heart drops in relief. It was just a dream. I'm still in his room. Nobody took me.

I feel stupid now. I jumped to conclusions too quickly and let panic take over me before properly assessing the situation. Not only that, but I also probably bothered Jackson from whatever it is that he was doing at this hour.

"Anvi." The bed dips on my side and the lamp flickers on. Jackson's looking at me, a glass of water in his hand and a concerned expression on his face. "Are you okay?"

I look down at my hands, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. "Yeah, I'm fine now," I mutter.

Jackson sets the glass down on the table and scoots closer to me. His hands cup my face and bring my eyes up to his.

"Are you sure?" He asks. His eyes penetrate me, searching me just as he had done when Adonis scared me. His hands are a bit cold, probably from the glass he had been holding, but it soothes my skin and brings me back down to Earth, grounding me firmly.

"I...yeah," I affirm. "I just had a nightmare, that's all. It's nothing too big."

"It seems big to me," Jackson says. He hands me a towel from the bedside drawer and watches me as I wipe my face. "You're sweating and you were screaming for me."

"I was, yeah." I nod. "Where did you go?"

"I went to get some water," he explains. "The heater was on too high – my throat got dry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"No, it's fine." I take a deep breath. The chain around my wrist uncurls, revealing itself to be nothing more than the blanket wrapped around my hand several times. Jackson removes his hands from my face and hands me the glass.

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