Gifted

Chapter 22 - Sage

′Stop Sage!′ Cold fingers wrapped around my wrist. Turning, his face pressed against my ear. 'Please Sage, this isn't you... you have to stop, you need to wake up Sage.'

"Sage wake up... you're dreaming Sage. Wake up!"

Shaken awake, I was woken with force. Though my eyes were now open, my heart was pounding as my fists clenched tightly in the bedsheets.

I hadn't been dreaming. It was a nightmare.

This was the second time in two days Pearl had woken me. But today there was something different, she had a look of worry on her face, her eyebrows furrowing as she peered down at me.

"You were shouting, yelling... you worried me," she said, placing her hand on my forehead. "My God Sage, you're hot... burning up. Do you feel okay?"

My cheeks did feel hot and my camisole stuck to my damp skin. "I was yelling?"

"Ah-huh." She nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine Pearl, it was just a dream."

Dream, uh-huh, keep telling yourself that.

Along with my heartbeat—my wolf's heart rate was off the scale too, something had freaked her out.

"What was you dreaming about?" she asked.

I propped myself up on my elbows as the cool air greeted the damp skin on my back. "There was a wolf, and I don't remember the rest."

I was lying. In my dream, I was hurting the wolf. He was afraid of me and begged me to stop but I didn't—couldn't. It was like I had no control.

I felt sick, my stomach cramped.

Pearl poked me. "Hey, it's okay." She sat on the edge of my bed. "You were probably dreaming about the asshole from America—the one you're supposed to meet tonight." She pulled a face.

"Oui," I said, not believing it for one second. This had felt real and I would have killed this wolf in my dream if... Sylar, hadn't stopped me.

Sylar—I had felt him there.

It had been a few nights since I had last dreamt about him, but that was different too.

I was used to him talking to me, our dream conversations were often the same. He would tell me he was searching for me and would find me soon and to wait for him.

But last night, in the dream, it wasn't his usual soft tone, he was firm with me, I had felt him touch me—he had stopped me from hurting the wolf.

Mon Dieu. My Wrist!

I looked down at my wrist and there it was, a mark as if someone had been gripping it tightly.

What the hell did all this mean?

I was going crazy for sure.

I glanced at Pearl. "Sorry for waking you Pearl; you go back to bed." My cousin wasn't normally an early riser.

"Nah, it's good, I'm not working tonight." She smiled peeling a strand of hair stuck to my face. "So now you're awake. Do you want a coffee or something?"

I sat up. "Yeah, coffee sounds wonderful, thanks."

She headed off to make us our drinks. I pushed myself up from my bed, still aching and sore from the other matter that was concerning... my apparent blackouts.

Why couldn't life just be happy and simple?

Peeling the damp flimsy material from my skin, I threw it over to the linen basket. Pulling on my robe I shivered at the memory of hurting the wolf in my dream.