The sun did not rise till seven thirty, so I had hours to kill, ensconced in a faded denim comforter and all too aware that the moment I went to sleep, my Keep the Psychics Out of My Head plan would be tested to the limit. There was a part of me—a sizable one—that wanted nothing more than to keep my eyes and ears open and my back to a wall, which was probably Melissa’s intention all along. She wanted me tired, off my game, and out of it enough that I’d stop resisting her assaults on my emotions.
She wanted me scared.
I closed my eyes and allowed my breathing to slow. Sleeping in their house—if I could manage it—would be like staring another alpha straight in the eyes.
I’m not scared of you, I thought as the rest of my mind went blank. You have no power over me.
For the longest time, I
