Page 28 of Noctis

You’re going to help me bridge the gap between Rowan and me.

Don’t worry. All you have to do is sleep, and I promise it won’t hurt a bit.

It never has before.

Admittedly, it’s been a very long time since I’ve done this. Decades. But what is it that humans always say? It’s like riding a bike.

Such a quaint expression. Humans seem fond of those involving animals. “Hold your horses,” “the elephant in the room,” “get your ducks in a row,” “eager beaver.” Why is that? Why the obsession with animals?

Maybe I’ll ask Rowan.

Not now, though. There’ll be no talking tonight.

Hold still, Doctor.

I’m coming in.

Chapter Eleven

Rowan

After my third attempt at reading the same page without absorbing a single word, I threw the book aside in disgust. Had I even wanted to read it, or had Tyler decided on my behalf that it would be good for me? I couldn’t remember, but given that I was already detecting a subtext about grief, I had my suspicions.

Tyler had always been good at making me believe his decisions were mine, all while subtly pulling strings in the background. I’d found it endearing at the beginning of our relationship and increasingly irritating as time went on.

Now, it infuriated me. Especially when his manipulation had left me stranded with one book, and it was the last thing I wanted to read.

What I needed was a distraction. Something that would make me stop imagining Tyler and Remy together in situations that went beyond the photograph of the two of them kissing.

I sighed and sat up against the headboard. Was it odd to summon the shadow creature who, only a couple of nights ago, had scared the life out of me?

Probably.

But I did it anyway. “Caligo?”

Nothing.

I waited a few seconds and tried again.

Same result.

Perhaps he couldn’t hear me from wherever else he went. Or maybe I simply wasn’t supposed to call for him.

Waking up with someone else in my room had already become disturbingly familiar. I didn’t even open my eyes, smiling at the thought that Caligo had finally come.

Footsteps moved toward the bed. Toward me. Quiet, but unmistakable.

Caligo didn’t have footsteps. He made no sound when he moved.

I tried to sit up, but got no further than halfway before arms wrapped around me from behind, dragging me back onto the mattress at the same time as a gentle shushing whispered across my ear. I struggled against him, but he was strong enough to subdue me easily, rolling on top of me and pinning my arms above my head.

There was enough light in the room for recognition to strike immediately .

Dr. Logan Collins.

“You!”

“Me,” he agreed, wearing a smile that was familiar and yet somehow wrong. Maybe it was nerves. Climbing into a patient’s bed in the middle of the night had to be nerve-racking when you had no idea what kind of reception awaited you.