Stranger Series Box Set

by Heather C. Myers

  Jane inhaled again, exhaled through her mouth. She needed to get oxygen to her brain, to pinch herself. What if this was a dream? What if this was all in her head and Depogare was really back in his room sleeping and not confessing his feelings to her? She wanted to make sure this was real. She didn’t know what she would do if she found out this was only a dream.

  “Why are you telling me this?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady, trying to keep it low.

  “Because I need you to know,” he said. “Everything you’ve said about me, about us, is the truth. If I had just admitted it then, perhaps you would not have been attacked.”

  Jane swallowed. “So you’re confessing this to me out of guilt?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “No. I want you to know, Jane.”

  She didn’t believe him.

  “Depoare … Daryl, I love you.” The words were easier and easier to say. “That hasn’t changed. And I know, in some way, you care about me. You were right, in that we can’t be together. At least not now. But that’s not going to change how I feel about you. It’s not going to curb my desire for you. I don’t blame you for what happened. I don’t. And if you’re telling me all of this because of some sense of guilt, I wish you’d just stop. Stop now. Because you’re doing me, yourself, and our feelings a disservice. Don’t tell me you love me because you feel guilty I’m in pain and got injured. If they were going to attack me, they would have found out a way to do it regardless. Tell me you love me because you want me to know. You genuinely want me to know so we can figure out what to do about it.”

  He looked at her, really looked at her, and for some reason, this gave her strength.

  “You know, you may be older and way more experienced,” Jane told him. “You’re more intelligent than I will probably ever be. But don’t play me for a fool. I’m not dumb. You told me this to make yourself feel better. And I don’t accept it.” She pushed her lips together and averted her eyes. “Thank you for helping me. Whatever that stuff was, it worked. You can go back to bed now. I’d like to get some sleep.”

  “Jane—”

  “Please, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  Depogare seemed like he was going to say more, but didn’t. Jane was grateful. Once she heard the door click shut, she felt safe enough to bury her head in her pillow and cry.

  19

  It was the next morning, and Sophie was one of three people in the dining hall. Will sat across from her, his tray filled with every single food offered, and the third was a janitor, cleaning up a spill one of the students had caused a few minutes ago. It was quiet and awkward, and Sophie didn’t like the discomfort she felt, as though being with Will was somehow wrong. The feeling was so strong, she could barely eat, picking at her food rather than enjoying it.

  “I don’t want you puking after our run this morning,” Will told her between bites. “Stop eating like a bird and start eating like a wolf.”

  Sophie smirked. Will’s favorite animal to shift into was a wolf. “You mean, eat like you?” she asked before taking an abnormally big bite of her food.

  He smirked back. “Couldn’t hurt,” he said. She could feel his eyes study her as she forced down a normal bite of food, and when she had her mouth full, he asked, “What?”

  Sophie swallowed the food—that, unto itself, felt like a chore—and glanced up at Will. She wasn’t sure if she should tell him she sent off a letter to her mother agreeing to meet with her. For whatever reason, the topic caused her stomach to tighten with guilt, and she wasn’t sure as to why. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet, something inside wanted to keep it all to herself.

  Like a secret.

  “Soph, if something’s wrong, you can tell me,” Will said again, his voice thick with concern.

  She looked up at him, into his eyes, and felt her heart skip a beat. Will was with her. He was her boyfriend, for lack of better word. He wanted to be with her and do things couples did, like talk and have sex and work out together. He genuinely cared about her and would do anything for her. He might piss her off—and a lot of the time, it was on purpose—but all in all, he loved her unconditionally.

  She didn’t think she had been loved like that before. Ever. Not even by her own parents. So why did she feel the need to get protective over things that should be shared among them?

  Perhaps it was because she wasn’t used to it. Perhaps it was because she didn’t trust that it wouldn’t all go away in a flash. Yeah, Will loved her now but people changed and that was it. Her own parents had abandoned her, she had been in and out of foster homes … The only person she could truly rely on was herself. She couldn’t trust Will with certain things because she couldn’t predict how he would react. He might get mad or offended, and then decide to leave, that she wasn’t worth it.

  “That’s bullshit,” she muttered under her breath.

  If she wanted this, if she wanted to try and make it work with Will, she had to force herself to trust him, even if it was scary. All she wanted in her entire life was to be normal, and in order to have a normal relationship, she needed to put her heart out on the line and trust Will not to break it. He was worth the effort, even if it blew up in her face.

  She took another bite of food and looked at Will once more. “I broke up with Jason,” she said in a voice just above a whisper. No one else was here, and the likelihood that anyone would overhear their conversation was minimal at best, but she still chose to whisper. Just in case.

  The corner of Will’s lip twitched, and Sophie all but rolled her eyes. In his defense, she could tell he was making an effort not to look too happy. He cleared his throat and cocked his head to the side. His hair was as unruly as ever, his eyes now mischievous. He wore a blue plaid shirt rolled up to the elbows, tight jeans with that obnoxious belt wrapped around his waist, and motorcycle boots. He looked good. She wished she could reach out and pull his hair, but even though the Hall was empty, she refused to risk it. She didn’t want to get herself and especially Will in trouble.

  “Certainly, you remember already telling me that?” he asked with a grin. “I’m sure that must have been hard for you—”

  “I get it, Will.” She dropped her fork so it clattered on the plate and crossed her arms over her chest. “I know this is a big joke to you.”

  Will looked like he was going to say something defensive. Instead, he pressed his lips together and sat back, interlocking his fingers and resting his hands on the surface of the table.

  “It’s not,” he told her, and he actually sounded serious. “Sophie, I know what it’s like to break up with someone I cared about. As much as I don’t want to admit that you cared about the kid, I know you did. I know it wasn’t love, but that doesn’t mean your relationship with him didn’t count. I’m not going to lie to you and say I’m not happy. Of course I am. You’re mine, now, fully and completely. You have no idea what it did to me, the thought of you being with anyone else but me. I hated it. So yeah, I’m glad that you’re not with him anymore. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand that you’re hurt by it. And maybe you need time to get over it. I can respect that.”

  Sophie shook her head, staring down at her half-eaten tray of food. “It’s not that,” she replied. “I did care about Jason, but not necessarily because I had romantic feelings for him. He was the first guy to want to be with me, even knowing what I am. He’s the first guy who reached out to me here. And Jason’s one of the most popular guys in the school.”

  Now Will rolled his eyes. “Please, kid,” he said, “don’t tell me you feed into that shit.”

  “I don’t. I don’t,” she assured him. “But you have no idea how it made me feel, knowing that the most popular guy at school asked me out without being embarrassed to be with me. It made me feel … special.”

  “And what makes you think I wouldn’t understand?” Will asked.

  “Because you were the cool guy,” Sophie pointed out. “You are the cool guy. I still can’t believe you want to
be with me. I mean, you used to date, and I use that term lightly, Dianna.”

  “Yeah, what about it?” Will leaned back in his chair, unclasping his fingers and looking away.

  Sophie hid a smirk behind her palm. It was clear that he was uncomfortable in the shift of conversation.

  “Um, she’s beautiful,” she stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s cool, too. Usually, you cool guys stick together. And Jason didn’t. He chose me.”

  “Enough bullshit over popularity and being cool,” Will said, his voice rising a tad. “Listen, and listen good, Sophie: I don’t give a shit if a person is popular or cool or whatever, and you shouldn’t either. Jason was lucky you even looked at him a second time, and don’t you think any different. Just because you’re not at the top of the school’s hierarchy doesn’t mean shit. You’re beautiful, smart, and kind of funny, every now and then. Any guy would be lucky to have you. I’m lucky to have you. The difference between me and Jason is, I know it. I worry you’re going to wake up one day and wonder why you’re with me when you could be with someone else. Jason was just happy knowing you were his without thinking you might find someone better. And you did.”

  Sophie’s smirk deepened. “You’re worried I’m going to leave you?” she asked, her voice teasing.

  Will shook his head. “Of course not,” he said, “but I know it’s a possibility. And in order to prevent that possibility from becoming a reality, I plan to do everything in my power to show you how much I care for you … without making it obvious.” He reached out, almost as if he were going to place his hand on hers, but seemed to remember where he was, and stopped himself. “I’m not the type that shows affection in general, let alone in public, kid. Even talking about my feelings is a huge stretch for me. But I want you to understand that I know what I have in you. I’m not saying I’m going to be perfect or buy you flowers or make love to you every single time on a bed of roses. We’re going to fight and get mad and hate each other at some point. Relationships are hard work. But there’s no one else I’d want to work with than you.”

  Sophie felt herself smile, and butterfly wings tickled the inside of her stomach. “Be careful, Will,” she teased lightly. “That was almost romantic.”

  Will cracked a smile. “I have no idea what’s come over me.”

  She furrowed her brow. “How did we go from talking about me and Jason breaking up to our relationship?” she asked.

  “Because our relationship is the only thing that matters,” Will told her. “Jason is your past. He was good when he was with you, maybe taught you some things about yourself, but it’s over. Now, it’s you and me, and being together in a place where we can’t be together.” He paused, and shifted in his seat. “Is there anything else troubling you?”

  Before Sophie could stop herself, she shook her head. For some inexplicable reason, she was set on keeping her parents a secret. It had nothing to do with Will; she trusted him with her life. At the same time, she wanted something to call her own. And honestly, a small part of her was worried that maybe he was right, that maybe there was some unknown reason why her parents wanted to see her, but it wasn’t because they missed their daughter. She would make contact with her parents and see what happened. Then, she would decide whether or not she told Will.

  It wasn’t his decision. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. Yet guilt piled up in her stomach until she was full and no longer wanted any more food, despite Will’s insistence she eat.

  20

  It was Depogare’s room again, but something was different. The moment Jane woke up, she knew she was in a dream. She still wasn’t sure why she dreamt with him. She didn’t know why they happened. To be honest, it didn’t particularly matter. The fact that they happened was more than she could ever hope for, so she clung to them like her only lifeline in choppy, unsettling waters.

  The dreams made her bolder, too. Jane knew she would never attain this in reality—at least not for a long time, and not without trouble—so she took advantage of the fact that this was her way to say and do everything she wanted to do with him.

  “You’re awake,” a voice murmured in the doorway.

  She glanced over, and there he was, wearing pajama pants and nothing more. He looked good with his messy hair and stubble that she almost wanted to tell him not to slick it back anymore, not to shave. But then other girls would start to realize just what a catch he was, more so than they already did. Was it selfish of her to keep him to herself?

  “Am I?” A slow smile eased onto her face because they both knew neither was awake.

  They were dreaming together. But they needed to pretend.

  “You’re not going to talk your nonsense, are you?” he asked, walking over to her side of the bed and taking a seat on the edge.

  Before she could stop herself, Jane reached for him. She needed to touch him, needed to feel him. Her forearm rested on his thigh, her fingertips grazing his side. She felt his body tense under her touch—she had never touched a man’s bare waist before—but he did not push her away. Her confidence grew; her touch lingered. If he did not push her away, she would not remove herself on her own.

  A tiny smile littered her face at his words. “Let me amend my nonsense,” she said, picking up her eyes and gazing at him. “You’ll miss this when we wake up.”

  “Yes.”

  Jane nodded, staring at his abdominals, wanting to run her fingers over the muscles. “Don’t forget these dreams,” she told him. “Don’t forget me, the way I am in these dreams. This person in front of you is who I really am, and I want you to see me for who I really am. I love you. I’m crazy about you, and I want nothing more than to be with you. I know these dreams won’t last forever, but I need them. Desperately. And I don’t want you to ruin them with your nonsense about reality.”

  Depogare turned his body so he could cup her cheek with his palm, his midnight blue eyes burning in a way she had never seen before.

  “I love you, Jane Cabot,” he told her. “My feelings for you will not change, whether I’m in a dream with you or whether we’ve woken up. I want you to know that.”

  She smiled. “I do,” she told him. But she needed to hear it. And it felt so, so good.

  “I cannot forget these dreams if I tried,” he told her, his tone serious. “You haunt my dreams, Jane, whether you’re in them or not. Your face is all I see. You must know, certainly you must know I have to restrain myself when I’m around you. I have to leave the room sometimes, lest I touch you for as long as I want to. My thoughts about you are not always nice. They’re dark and hidden, and thoughts you should not be aware of. I want you, in every single way the word applies. I can’t stop thinking about how it would feel to kiss you, to taste you, to hear my name on your lips while I lavish you with pleasure you’ve never known. You drive me crazy, Jane, and you don’t even know it.”

  Jane felt herself swallow at his words, felt herself thrum at his passion. Before she could stop herself, she reached up and grabbed the back of his head, pulling him down to her so she could claim his lips with hers. Her fingers buried themselves in his hair and she was desperate for more, to feel more.

  He didn’t fight her, not this time, and without breaking contact, moved his body so he was on top of her and she was underneath him. She felt safe and in danger at the same time, though she did not know how that was possible. Her hand dropped from his hair to his shoulders, and she pulled him even closer to her, so their bodies were practically molded together and not even air could squeeze between them.

  Jane broke apart from the kiss to take her breath, but Depogare claimed her cheek, her chin, her neck with his lips. The little gasps she made just encouraged him.

  “Please,” she murmured, her lips all but touching his earlobe. “Please don’t stop.”

  And that was all the encouragement he needed.

  Jane’s eyes snapped open, her breathing heavy, ragged. She could still feel her body tingle in desire, and she was almost mad she
had woken up. Depogare was nowhere to be found in her room, something she was grateful for. She needed time to collect her thoughts and slow her racing heart rate, to have a moment to herself.

  For one, she couldn’t stop smiling. Two, her body was experiencing aftershocks.

  So this was what sex should feel like, she thought to herself. Not taken, but mutually given. Not tense, but relaxed.

  She started laughing and glanced over to her window. It was still dark. She knew she should fall back asleep, but she also knew that wouldn’t be happening for a while. Instead, she closed her eyes—not to sleep, but to replay it over and over and over again.

  “Jane.”

  His voice surprised her. He hadn’t come in the whole morning—Brielle had stopped by to check on her and brought breakfast, so the two caught up for a while before she had to leave—but she didn’t mind. She understood that what had happened between them was a lot for him, and he needed to process it in the same way she did. She wasn’t offended, nor did she overanalyze it. The time alone gave her clarity as well, and she did wonder if having sex in her dream meant they had sex in real life, if there was a technicality about it. It certainly felt real.

  She wanted it to be real.

  But she wasn’t sure if Depogare felt the same, and she was afraid to ask. So she welcomed the solitude, because this way her dream was real. What they did was real. What they said was real.

  He loved her, and he couldn’t take that back.

  He was in her doorway again, but fully clothed, every hair in place. He even shaved. The only thing slightly different about his appearance was his sleeves were rolled to the elbow. Still, he looked good, and her pelvis throbbed so hard it was painful. She had to turn away, and wondered if her knew why, if he saw the desire flicker across her eyes.