“You’re okay?” I pant, wondering what the fuck is real and what isn’t.
“I’m fine. Are you?” Prinie questions.
I quickly stand from the bed, feeling like the world is caving in on me.
That felt all too fucking real.
I begin pacing the bedroom floor as she stands, unsure of the situation. “Do you have nightmares often?”
“No, I mean… yeah, sometimes, but not like that.”
She steps up to me, placing her hand on my arm, but I flinch away.
I need some space.
She grimaces as I raise my hands in surrender. “It’s not you. This is not about you or us. I just… I need a minute.”
She wraps her arms around herself, taking a step back. “What can I do?”
I take in a deep breath as I turn heading for the bathroom to grab my clothes. “Go back to bed. Get some sleep. I’m sorry if I scared you.”
I start pulling my jeans on as I see her sit on her bed through the doorway of the bathroom.
“Are you coming back?” she asks.
Glancing in the mirror, I’m fucking wrecked. I don’t know how long I was asleep for, but it’s no wonder I can’t get any sleep when I have fucking nightmares like that.
“Wraith?”
My eyes squint at her.
Prinie’s insecure in herself right now—I’ve made her that way.
After everything we’ve been through tonight, I still hold the power to make her doubt herself.
I’m an asshole.
I do up my jeans, taking off for the door.
“Wraith, talk to me.”
“I killed you, okay?” I yell at her.
She jerks back, sadness washes over her features. I huff, turning for the door. She rushes forward, her hand grabbing my arm. An electrical shock courses straight through me and lets me know she is well and truly alive.
So am I.
“Wraith, stop!” Her voice is broken.
But I don’t.
I take off out the door needing to clear my head. She’s naked, so she won’t follow me, at least not right away. I close her door behind me feeling like a prick, but I can’t be near her right now. Not because I’ll hurt her. I know I won’t. But because I’m ashamed of everything I am. Of the monster my mother made me into. Of the man I became because of it.
Ashamed I had a dream like that with her naked next to me.
I race down the hall, taking the stairs two at a time and head for the outside gym. Phantom’s the only one still up, and he’s sitting by the bar drinking by himself. He lifts his chin at me, but I ignore him as I continue barefoot, wearing only my jeans. I’m sure he’s wondering what the fuck I’m doing, but seeing a brother run around scantily clad this late at night is not a rare sight.
“Wraith, don’t run away. Talk to me,” Prinie calls out as I reach the back door.
I turn to take her in. She’s wearing a deep purple silk robe which is barely done up, no shoes, and she’s rushing toward me.
Phantom’s eyes widen as he drinks his beer while taking in the drama unfolding right before him.
I’m sure he’s putting two and two together.
I turn around throwing my hands in the air. “You want me to talk to you?”
She stalls right in front of me. “Exactly! Don’t run away like a coward.”
“Like a coward? Prinie, my urges will always haunt me, even in my fucking sleep.”
She slumps her body, her eyes shifting a little softer. “We can work through it together, remember? You have to be willing to try, that’s all.”
Regret and pain sear through me as I take in her gorgeous face, but all I see is her body lying on the bed in the aftermath of my dream. I let out a staggered breath. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Prinie’s eyes flood with tears, her bottom lip quivering as she inches closer to me. “You won’t physically, but you keep doing it emotionally!” She sniffles, then turns, storming back toward the stairs.
My hands ball into fists as Phantom rushes off after her. My head begins to swarm, my ears ring as anger takes over my body. I need to take some of this pent-up frustration out before I really do blow a gasket because Prinie’s my weakness, and right now, she’s making me incredibly fucking weak.
Storming outside, I make my way to the gym. I need to punch something. Any-fucking-thing to settle this tornado of rage that’s completely out of control.
Honestly, I need to shoot shit up, but that will wake everyone so target practice is out. So, I will have to settle for a punching bag. I march straight over to it, without getting gloves or wraps, and land my fist one after the other into the tatty, black leather. My knuckles graze on the gritty texture instantly burning my skin, but I don’t care.
I need to feel pain right now.
I need to suffer for my past actions.
It might have only been a dream, but I felt it.
It was real to me.
I should suffer for my sins.
I should be punished for my actions.
Prinie deserves someone so much better than a man who has these types of urges.
My left fist hooks into the bag with so much force my knuckles tear, but I don’t stop. I slam my right into the bag, it swings to and fro as I continue to pummel the bag, hit after vicious hit. My hands go numb from the pain as it shoots electric shocks up my arms with each punch into the leather. Spittle flies
