Chapter 5: Sleeplessness

Priscilla’s POV

“I gotta say, Americans have the sinful, greasy breakfast food down, but you have nothing on Italian espresso,” Oriana stated from the other side of the booth, happily sipping on her hot drink.

After much convincing, she persuaded me to join her and Robin for breakfast. Oriana has been raving about this bakery in the town center for several days now. Something about the most buttery, flakiest biscuits she’s ever eaten.

Her enthusiasm for food really reminded me of my sister. I found it quite endearing.

As much as I would have loved to stay at the lodge, completely alone and bombarded with my thoughts, I knew that wasn’t good for my mental health. Besides, when else would I get the opportunity to indulge in authentic Italian espresso and baked goods?

“It is something,” I agreed with Oriana, taking a modest sip of my own coffee. Espresso was like its own language here, a culture in and of itself.

“How’s your shoulder doing?” Robin asked as he draped an arm across Oriana’s shoulders. Instantly, she pressed nuzzled back against his chest, seeming to need his touch like she needed air. He smiled down at her and pressed a kiss against the top of her head.

I rolled my shoulder and winced. “Sore, but fine.”

“That’s good,” Robin concurred pleasantly.

I should ask him how he’s doing. That’s what a normal person would do in this situation. Normal people were concerned about their friends. Were we even friends? No. I would not consider anyone here a friend. But I still wanted to try. “How are you? Construction coming along alright?”

His eyebrows raised as if he seemed surprised. “Long days, but it seems to be paying off.”

“For who, exactly? You barely sleep,” Oriana interjected.

“It’s only temporary,” he offered. My niece wasn’t thrilled by that answer. “Wyatt has it worse than I do. Least I can do is alleviate some of that stress.”

“It’s not your fault he has sex dreams about my Tia,” Oriana grumbled.

Robin laughed, clearly finding her statement nothing short of hilarious. “That’s definitely not what I was talking about, but I’m sure that doesn’t help.”

I could feel my cheeks pinken at her brazenness. She’s been hanging around shifters too long. All they do is instigate that straightforwardness. Not to mention all they ever talk about is sex. “I’m literally right here.”

“Yeah. Get to it,” Oriana rebutted, making me cough on my espresso. “It’ll be easier on everyone if you just suck it up and take one for the team.”

“Take one for the team?” I asked, debating whether or not I should attempt to make a joke. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to embarrass my niece. “I guarantee sucking is the very last thing I have in mind.”

Oriana choked, gasping in surprise at my crude statement. “Tia!”

My eyes narrowed and I raised my eyebrows in mock surprise. “What? You’re clearly very interested in my extracurriculars.”

“I changed my mind! I changed my mind! No thank you!” Oriana insisted, causing a smile to pull at the corner or one of my lips.

“That’s what I thought,” I replied with a hint of patronization. “While both of you are very obvious with what you do in your free time, I’m only here to reconnect with my family. Wyatt knows that. Anything else is no one’s business.”

Oriana’s lips scrunched to the side, her eyes glittering with a challenge. Robin glanced at her, noticing her inherent need to push my buttons.

I tilted my head to the side. “Don’t play this game, Oriana. You’ll lose.”

My niece bit her lower lip in an attempt not to smile before she looked over at her boyfriend. Robin sighed, an unspoken plea for her not to say what she was itching to say. “Judging by how exhausted Wyatt seems in the morning, you give him a run for his money in his dreams too.”

I paled. “I’m sorry. What?”

Robin cleared his throat, clearly wishing Oriana hadn’t brought that up like she was playing a winning hand at cards. “Nothing. Ignore that she said anything.”

“Come on. You should tell her,” Oriana replied smugly.

“Tell me what?” my lips were pressed into a thin line, any trace of amusement gone from my face.

The large shifter tilted his head back in annoyance before making eye contact with me. “Those matebond induced dreams are shared. Meaning anything you dream about, he is also experiencing.”

Fuck. Oh no.

My eyes widened, my cheeks pinkening with shame. “I need a drink.” I put down my empty espresso cup and scooted out of the booth.

“It’s ten o’clock in the morning,” Oriana stated.

I cleared my throat, making a beeline for the front door to the bakery. “I said what I said. Adios, mija.”

“Baby, that was mean,” Robin scolded playfully.

“So worth it! Tell me I can’t win at something,” Oriana giggled as I rushed out the door.

*****

After that wonderful revelation gifted to me by my niece, I couldn’t sleep that night. The paralyzing embarrassment kept my eyes open as I lay buried in the plush comforter. I don’t even know if I could look Wyatt in the face again.

What was so bad about my dreams?

Honestly, they really weren’t that bad, but the fact my most private thoughts and fantasies were on display toward a man I lusted after felt shameful.

My face felt hot, a dreaded prickling of my skin reminding me exactly how much I ached for him. I hated it. I hated not being in control of my emotions. Nothing pissed me off more than feeling powerless.

It didn’t matter how I felt about Wyatt, any feeling I had was predetermined, decided for me. That helplessness took me right back to college. Nineteen years ago. The last time a man had made me feel weak.

My hands clenched into fists as a wave of anger washed over me. That rage squeezed my heart, like something was sitting on my chest, crushing the breath out of me.

God. I couldn’t breathe.

I sat up, throwing the comforter off me. I pulled my legs up to my chest, bowing my back so I buried my face behind my knees. A few shaky breaths slipped from my lips, my trembling hands slowly coming to a stop.

There was no way I’d be able to sleep tonight.

I got out of bed, changing into some leggings and a sports bra, leaving my arms bare. It’s not like anyone would see the scars this late anyways. The shifters all sleep really heavily so I’d be able to slip out of the house undetected. No one needed to know how I spent my sleepless nights.

When the shifters weren’t breaking ground or pouring pavement, they were working out. One of the nights I tried to slip away to the gym, I caught Robin working out at three in the morning.

I think being in Venice, so close to his wife’s grave, bothered him more than he let on. More than Oriana would understand. It wasn’t any of my business, but I empathized with him. I remember spending hours talking to Astrid’s urn, sobbing like it was the worst heartbreak I’d ever suffered.

I understood the pain of losing a loved one. It wrecked me for years. Decades. That hole in your chest doesn’t just go away. But like I said, it wasn’t any of my business.

Thankfully, the gym was unoccupied. I needed to hit something. Release this debilitating rage filled my chest.

This served two purposes for me. One. It was a release. Kept me from blowing up at every little thing irritated me. Two. Kept me sharp. Granted, I lacked the strength of a shifter or vampire, but I wasn’t going to let anyone get the better of me if I could help it.

I wrapped my hands like I had done a million times before. My wound on my arm had healed well. I removed the stitches myself. No interest in seeking Wyatt’s help again. I didn’t need anyone to help me.

The sandbag hung down in the center of the makeshift gym. There was a scattering of weights and mats, but everything seemed to be put away. I took a stance in front of the sandbag, swinging against it.

Pain erupted up my arm with every strike, my knuckles throbbing against the impact, but I didn’t care. My hands felt hot like a rugburn. The pain didn’t slow me down. It never did.

Sweat beaded against my forehead, dripping down the back of my neck. My hair was pulled back out of my face, but ever so often, it would whip around and get stuck in the moisture.

My swings slowed as I felt a steady tingle climb up my back as if someone was watching me. I felt my heart pick up, hammering against my chest as a flood of adrenaline swarmed and bubbled in my bloodstream.

Out of instinct, I whirled around, my fists up, ready for a fight.

A tall figure leaned against the doorframe; arms crossed against his broad bare chest. My eyes slipped up from his slender physique up to green eyes analyzing me with an expression I couldn’t place. As much as I hated that I could never tell what he was thinking, relief washed over me.

I turned back to the sandbag before he could pinpoint my relief. He didn’t need to know that. I refused to look at him, knowing if I eyed him up too long, I would only be reminded of how he felt against me in my dreams. My cheeks pinkened.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Wyatt asked, his rumbling voice prickling the hair on the back of my neck.