Shadowed (Unbound, Book 2)

Chapter Twenty-Two

The next morning, I woke early. Dreams were absent, but images flashed throughout the night of an old man, so decrepit he appeared to have hopped into my head straight from rotting in his grave. Always at his side was the black dog that I'd failed to save in my other dream. He didn't speak, but the woman's laughter carried softly in my head.

The fifth time he appeared, I opened my eyes and couldn't close them again. The images weren't scary but odd, and they left me feeling lost. So for a half hour, I stared at the digital clock on my alarm, watching as the glowing red numbers blinked up to seven. Finally, it buzzed.

I slapped it off and moved Onyx so that I could stand. She whimpered but didn't wake. Was she dreaming too? Or was she just exhausted after keeping me company each time I woke? Whatever the case, Onyx deserved to rest and I needed a shower. Considering how long it took to blow-dry my hair, I better hurry or I'd be late.

Opting for a ponytail instead of the blow-dryer wasn't my best idea. While it saved time and the comfort level was undeniable, it... Well, it saved time. Devland still sat at the table eating breakfast when I entered the dining room, exchanging a black leather-bound book for a newspaper from his briefcase sitting on the floor beside his feet. He didn't look up, but I knew there was no way of sneaking past into the kitchen to eat breakfast with Mrs. Renaldi. I swallowed, determined not to let his presence intimidate me.

For a moment, I hesitated. My gut told me to sit at the opposite end—to keep a distance—as a cement block settled into my stomach. But, ignoring what made sense, I took a deep breath and sat beside him, just as I had the night before. Still, he didn't look up, too engrossed in the newspaper to notice. I no longer had any delusions of his caring.

"Tea or juice?" Mrs. Renaldi asked, appearing in the doorway with a smile, wiping her hands on the front of her sky blue apron.

"I—"

"She'll have tea." Devland darted his eyes up without moving his head and then refocused on the newspaper.

I looked back to Mrs. Renaldi, pursing my lips. "I'll have juice and toast, please."

"Eggs?"

Considering the non-supper last night? "Yes, please."

Mrs. Renaldi disappeared into the kitchen, humming under her breath in tune with the melody emanating from the radio on the windowsill above the sink. I smiled and looked down at the table. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw Devland and lifted my head. My smile dropped but at least I managed to curb the temptation to roll my eyes.

"What?"

He shrugged with one shoulder and raised an eyebrow. His other hand held his cup of tea, his elbow on the table. In the time Mrs. Renaldi left, his newspaper had become folded and now sat beside his plate. My skin tingled under his scrutiny.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said. "It's just not surprising that you're hungry this morning."

"Oh?" I gave into rolling my eyes. "It's not normal to want to eat at breakfast? The whole, "It's the most important meal of the day," spiel has no merit? Damn. It's a wonder I'm not a blimp on steroids by now. I've been eating breakfast for years."

"Don't be smart, Noreena."

"You'd rather I play dumb? Okay," I said, exhaling as my shoulders slumped, "but when I don't graduate, you can't get mad."

"Dammit, Noreena." He set his cup down hard. Liquid splashed over the rim onto his hand and the table, but he didn't flinch.

I jumped, though remained stubborn enough not to look away. I pressed my lips together and held his gaze, waiting for him to continue.