In Her Dreams by Bolryder, Terry (the reader ebook .txt) 📕

A tear of frustration bites at the corner of my eye, and I swipe it away.

Reve is there in a second, looking stricken as he reaches up and brushes my tear away with the lightest touch from his strong, masculine hand. “I’m so sorry, soul bond. I made light of something serious. I didn’t mean to. It’s just—”

“You have different rules,” I say, calming myself as I swipe another tear away. I smile at Reve, who poofs a kerchief out of nowhere and hands it to me.

It’s soft as silk and smells like sugar cookies.

“Don’t cry, soul bond,” Reve says. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I just don’t want him to lose his spot at this school,” I say. “There were bullies at other schools, so I thought he just needed a better environment. He’s not violent, not really. But he kept getting in fights.”

“He has a strong sense of justice,” Reve says. “There is a lot wrong in this world.”

That just makes my heart pound and feel trapped again.

“But that being said, if this means a lot to you, I can talk to him,” Reve says.

“What would you say? Tell him not to use his whip?”

Reve rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know if that would be right. I would tell him why it would be bad if he did, but he’s old enough to know that his whip is a part of him.”

“Because you told him.”

“But it would have been his fist otherwise,” Reve says. “And at least whips require control. Precision.”

I put my hand to my face, grinning. “I can’t believe we’re discussing the benefits of whips.”

He gently pulls my hand from my face, then pulls me in against him, wrapping his arms around me and putting my head to his shoulder. “I promise we’ll deal with it. Help Joey figure out the school thing. But just… give him a moment to explain, right? He might have had a good reason.”

“He’s ten.”

“Ten-year-olds can have good reasons,” Reve says. “Especially when they have awesome moms who taught them to tell right from wrong.”

“Aw, shucks,” I say. “You always know what to say.”

“I try to understand you,” Reve says. “The best I can. When I’m wrong, I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“I’ll try,” I say. “And I hope you’ll try to forgive me too when I overreact to something.”

“I mean, that’s love, right?” Reve says, his teal eyes glittering with something soft and tender. “And I love you more than anything.”

I suck in a breath because it’s the first time he has said it so openly.

He’s said it here and there in the heat of lovemaking. Whispered words of love and devotion in the dark.

He has called me a dream mate.

He has called me a soul bond.

But he’s here just softly telling me he loves me more than anything.

I think my heart just collapsed from sheer joy.

It’s also nice having someone to talk about Joey with. Someone to give advice but who respects what I want.

Most of all, someone who respects my choices and doesn’t see me as being a failure. Someone who sees me as I am, strong despite what has happened.

Someone who doesn’t just pity me.

The doorbell rings, and Reve and I pull apart.

There’s a knock, then fiddling with the handle.

“That’s Joey,” I say.

“Want me to get it?”

“No,” I say. “I’m his mom. I’ll figure it out.”

“Be easy on him,” Reve says. “Like I say, he’s a good kid.” He looks around. “You know what? I’m just going to go hang with Jerrek. Let you handle this. If I’m here, I might screw up and interfere.”

He’s probably right. He does tend to interfere, and usually, I appreciate it. But we just really disagree on how things should go when it comes to the clash between his and my world.

“Okay,” I say, rubbing his arm reluctantly. He leans in for a kiss just as the door swings open.

He smiles against my lips as if to say, “See you soon,” and then disappears in a puff of smoke.

At the door, Joey’s red hair is standing up in all directions as he walks in, and there’s a dirt smudge on his cheek, but his clothes look fine.

His brown eyes are somewhat defiant as he meets my gaze. “Did my teacher call?”

“Yes,” I say.

He looks at the ground, kicking his shoes off on the mat and then shoving the door shut.

He sighs like the world is on his shoulders and slumps over to the couch, where he sits down and sinks as low as possible, like his ten-year-old body doesn’t have any bones. “I’m in trouble now, aren’t I?”

The old me would have said yes, but just because Reve asked, I’m going to try to hear more of Joey’s story.

“I don’t know,” I say carefully. “Why don’t you tell me why you felt you had to use your whip?”

His eyes sparkle hopefully, and the tension in his face fades somewhat. “I promise, Mom, I wasn’t going to cause trouble. I didn’t want to make things bad for you. But they were trying to put my friend Anna in a garbage can.”

I blink, having never considered this possibility. “I’m sorry, what? A garbage can? Why were they doing that?”

“Uh, well, Anna doesn’t speak too good. She’s, uh, in the special class. She doesn’t walk that well either. She has a walker. But the boys like to take it away during lunch. And she ended up telling the teacher on them. So then today, the guys said she was garbage, and they wanted to put her in the garbage can for getting them in trouble and—”

“Wait, wait,” I say because it’s a lot and I’m trying to take it all in. “So you whipped them because they were picking on someone else? Someone who couldn’t defend themself?”

He nods, looking troubled. “And now they all hate me. I did want to make friends, Mom. But I can’t be friends with someone who hurts someone like Anna. And I really love her, so