Rage of Vendetta (The Vendetta Series #2)

Chapter 19

Author's Note: I'm so sorry for the late update! My internet is really erratic lately, so I never know when I'll get a connection. Anyway, don't forget that I'm still giving dedications to new comments so every reader gets one chapter dedicated to them, and please let me know if I forgot about you! 

Chapter 19

Sometime in the middle of the night, my eyes open and emit a flash of green. 

I slowly ease up, fanning my face from the cold sweat encased around my skin. The overhead lights have been shut off, but I can see fine in the dark. The clock reads 1:13 AM, and I’ll have to trust it to be true. My brain is riddled with sleep: a vortex of forgotten memories from the dream I just had escaping my clutches.

I can't figure out why I'm awake. Strangely so, it is like my brain was simply disturbed. I don't feel any sense of danger; I'm more or less uneasy. 

There's a tickling at my neck that reminds me of the sensation when my mind is being read, but when I glance over at Jesse, he's sleeping like the dead. One of his arms is flung over the side, and if I listen very carefully, I can hear quiet snoring.

It's just your hair, I tell myself, brushing the stray strands away.

Nevertheless, I am tense that someone really is messing with me. It is unlikely, I know, especially since I can't hear any movement when I extend my hearing as far as it will go. There isn't anyone nearby. I entertain the idea that perhaps it is a spirit, but I glance around, and see no one.

No one, living or not, can hide that well. 

I exhale heavily, and like that, the tickling stops. Weird.

"Jesse," I hiss. Maybe he's just an awful good actor. "Jess. Jess. Jesse."

He doesn't respond, still snoring. 

"Whatever," I mutter.

Frowning ever so slightly, I lie back down. It takes a while for me to settle back into sleep, the ridges in the chair digging into my hips.

Right before my eyes shut entirely, through the slits, I swear I see Jesse bolt upright and say something. Not to me though: he appears to be talking to himself.

My mouth opens to ask what's up, but my eyes have already shut against my will, and the weariness drags me down. 

***

"Princess. Wake up."

There's a cold grip on my wrist. I gasp, arms flailing. The world spins before my eyes for a moment: a rush of movement that is coming from me, not my surroundings. Then I'm lying on the freezing cold floor.

I throw an arm on my forehead to shield my eyes from the 100-watt glare of the lights above. It must be morning. My eyes shift to the clock. 4:30 AM. Yep. I groan loudly.

Jesse comes into view, looming over me as I rub away my blurry vision. I'm almost certain I have drool smeared on my cheek, as well as a serious case of morning breath.

Cursing under my breath, I attempt to sit up, getting hair into my eyes.

"What?" I huff.

Jesse crouches down at my eye-level, smiling wearily. His eyelids are heavy with sleep, and a single lock of hair is curled in an almost-ringlet plastered to his forehead.

”Morning to you too."

I wrinkle my nose at him. "Your breath smells like garbage."

"So does yours," he laughs. "I'll run down to the gas station and-"