My ears tingled, my breath caught, my heart thumped hard against my chest. If only I could move a bit.
"Dad, you can't be telling the truth." I refuted strongly.
I had been with him. I had known him. I had dined with him, laughed with him, held him in my arms.
I had been cuddled by him, felt his warmth, his steady breathing, his heartbeat beneath my cheek.
I had touched him—felt his nerves, his strength, every ounce of him in me. He was real. Tangible just like any human.
Or so I believed.
"Stella, stop arguing," he said calmly, almost bored. "I know you can't believe me, but I have said it and I'm saying it again… leave Adrian. He is the people of the night."
The words crawled into my ears like poison.
"People of the night?" I asked weakly. "Like dream walkers?"
Not that I actually know much about the dream walkers, but then over the years I have heard people mention them as a supernatural clad in human forms.
And so what?
