Chapter 1

The dreams were back.

The haunting echo of a chilling laugh, cold and malicious, stayed with me. My muscles ached with the phantom strain of flight, the memory of clashing with shadowy beasts in the dark. These dreams were no mere night terrors; they left their evidence, like the purplish imprints of fingers that seemed to have dug into the flesh of my arm, a tender neck as if hands had truly sought to silence me. Last night, my subconscious had staged a relentless hunt, my pulse racing in sync with the cadence of the frenzied howls that chased me. The shrill cries of my pursuers lingered in my ears long after waking, their intent as obscure as the darkness that shrouded them.

When I started taking Divination, I did every assignment I could on dreams, but I found nothing that matched my experience. A lot of dreams, unless you were gifted, were only conversations between the subconscious and conscious minds. Nightmares were the subconscious telling us what needed to be addressed or let go, and it was our duty to work through those issues. A solution was to keep a dream journal, but it never helped.

Despite the extra bedding, I still felt cold. This extra coldness always happened as it got closer to my heat, but it never got any better. My stomach rolled, and my head swam as I blindly reached for the suppressants littering my nightstand. Shoving a dry pill in my mouth that practically disintegrated on my tongue before I could swallow, I flopped heavily back into my nest, immediately regretting the movement.

Please don’t fucking throw up. Not today. I have a test in an hour and I can’t afford to miss this one. Plus, if I throw up now, I’ll be forced to miss a dose of suppressants and….

I couldn’t help the shiver at the thought of the merry band of dicks finding out about me being an omega. If Nick found out I was an omega, it would probably be even worse.

Shoving the blankets off me once my stomach stopped rebelling, I got up slowly to let my head accumulate to the new orientation, but the pounding against my temples happened anyway. Whining in the back of my throat, I clutched my head, instantly disgusted at my greasy hair. It took me fifteen minutes to get to the classroom. If I do it quickly, I should have enough time to shower.

Taking the risk, I grabbed what I needed, locked the door behind me, and walked down the long hallway to the communal bathing area.

Of all the mornings for the universe to conspire against me, it chose this one. There she was, Summer Price, meticulously painting her lips the color of fresh blood, her smug grin reflecting in the mirror like a challenge.

Summer Price was a right bitch. She was a trust fund baby who always had a vendetta against me and used every advantage she could to make my life miserable.

“What happened to you?” She snorted when her eyes traveled to me when I opened the door.

I inwardly groaned. What did the dream gift me this time? At least I’d gotten good at healing, and the water element seemed to adore me.

Moving in front of the mirror furthest away from her, the reflection showed a bruise in the shape of a hand across my face, covering my mouth.

“Oh, that was from your dad. He didn’t want me to wake your mom last night.” The words seemed to fall out of my mouth faster than I could even think of them, and I huffed a laugh at them.

“You’re so gross.” She snarled, deliberately pushing me hard against the porcelain, making me grunt as the air was forced from my diaphragm.

I stumbled back from the sink, my hip smarting from where it collided with the edge. Summer’s eyes gleamed with malice, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against the counter in a rhythm that set my teeth on edge.

“You know, Xiomara, I’ve always wondered why Nick keeps you around. You’re not exactly… pleasant company.”

Her words stung, but I refused to let her see how deeply they cut. Instead, I turned my attention to the shower stall, desperately hoping she’d leave me in peace.

“Maybe it’s pity,” she continued, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Or maybe he just likes having someone to make him feel better about himself.”

I gritted my teeth, focusing on turning on the water and adjusting the temperature. The steam began to rise, fogging up the mirrors and creating a barrier between us.

As I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over my aching muscles, Summer’s laughter echoed off the tiled walls. “Enjoy your shower. You’ll need it to wash off all that… desperation.”

The door slammed shut behind her, and I let out a wobbly breath. My hands shook as I reached for the shampoo, the lingering scent of Summer’s expensive perfume bringing back my nausea in full.

As I scrubbed away the remnants of my nightmares and Summer’s cruel words. The water element responded to my distress, swirling around me in comforting patterns, but even its soothing presence couldn’t quell the growing agitation.

As I toweled off after my shower, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. The bruise on my face had faded slightly, thanks to the water element’s concern, but it was still visible – an ugly smear of purple and yellow marring my olive skin. I leaned closer, tracing the outline with a fingertip, wincing at the tender flesh.

With trembling hands, I applied a light layer of concealer, praying it would be enough to hide the mark. The cool cream felt like a lie against my skin, but I blended it carefully, watching the mark disappear beneath a veil of normalcy. I couldn’t afford any questions today. I just didn’t have the energy. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the day ahead, hoping that, for once, I could fade into the background without incident.