Wicked Encounters (The Wicked Series: Season 1)

Eighteen

All of Cordelia's bags are sitting either on the bed or in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, and she's shoving the contents of the nightstand drawer into her oversized purse. When she notices I'm standing there, she nearly jumps out of her skin and struggles to find her words.

"Elias, I—I'm—I think I'm going to go back to my room for a while," she manages, throwing the purse over her shoulder and piling her duffel bag on top of her large rolling suitcase.

I slide my hands into my joggers and stroll around the bed, taking in the mess she has made. With every step I take, the fear of her decision to leave my room rolls into anger. "Why would you do that when you know someone in this house is hurting people? For fuck's sake, they have already hurt you."

She steps back and away from me, nearly bumping into the wardrobe behind her. "I just think it's—it's better if I—"

She has no reason for what she's doing. She can't even string a sentence together. What the fuck is she thinking?

"Better if you what, Cordelia?" I demand, stepping closer and caging her in between my body and the wardrobe.

She tucks her lips between her teeth and I can see her hands trembling as she brings them up to run her fingers through her hair, gripping it at the roots. "I don't know!" she exclaims. "Please, Elias, just let me go. I need space." But she makes no move to push me out of the way; she just stares up at me with those sparkling grey eyes.

"Space from what?"

"This...everything. I don't think this was a good idea. We hardly know each other."

I search her face for more to her answer. It doesn't make sense. Why would she want to go back to her room when she saw what happened to the troll. All I find is pure terror that rips through me. I take a step back and give her a fraction of the space she needs from me.

"I'll sleep in the chair or even the bathroom if it makes you feel better. But I think you are making a mistake by leaving this room."

Her eyes dart around the room and I can tell she's considering my words. And I think for a moment that I've gotten through to her. That she'll allow me to continue watching over her, keeping her safe.

But she sidesteps me and shakes her head. "I can't stay, Elias...I—" Her eyebrows furrow and she meets my gaze as she says, "You were in my dream tonight."

The sudden shift in topic startles me and I tilt my head to the side. "What? What are you talking about?"

"I had a nightmare tonight. Right before everything happened. You were in it...it was so real. But you didn't wake up with me. Not like before," she says, and her voice is so wistful, it nearly cracks my heart in two.

"Cordelia, not every dream you have is dream walking. You're still very immature in your abilities. It's possible that you simply had a normal nightmare."

Anger flashes in her eyes. "Immature? Oh, okay. I'm sorry. We all can't be, like, 500 years old," she snaps.

If this weren't a such a dire situation, I'd probably laugh at her histrionics. I'm not even close to 500 years old. "That's not what I meant, belle rêveur." I don't mean to use the nickname that slipped out last night, but it felt natural and right to call her that.

Her eyes narrow and she grabs the handle of her suitcase. "Well, regardless of if it's real or not, I've always heard it said that dreams all have a kernel of truth in them. So if that's the case..." She shivers. "Anyway...you also didn't even call me that in the dream...You had a different nickname for me...coelhinha?"