Dreamer (The Dream World Chronicles Book 1) by Camille Peters (thriller books to read .txt) 📕

sighed. Perhaps I needed to heed Stardust’s advice after all. Now more than ever I needed to prove to the Council I belonged, and that wouldn’t come from trying to save the world; it would come from being a good Weaver for Maci.

Darius’s look was understanding. “If you need more time, we can delay the Weaving.”

My gaze snapped to his. “I’m convinced you can read my mind.”

He chuckled again. “No, mind reading is not my power.” He froze the moment the words were spoken, as if afraid he’d said too much. My curiosity piqued.

“You have a special power? What is it?”

He stiffened again. “I…well, it’s not normally something I share…”

I was surprised how acute my disappointment was, not just because he hadn’t satisfied my curiosity, but because I wanted him to trust me enough to tell me something so personal. “Won’t you tell me?” I asked.

He hesitated. “One day. I promise.”

My heart lifted slightly. “I’ll hold you to that. Until you do, I’m still convinced you can read minds.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Not mind reading, though admittedly it’d be nice; I’m dying to know what you think of me.”

“Then perhaps I can humor you.” I stepped closer, thrilling at the fluttery hum that seemed to fill the small space between us. “Right now I’m grateful you helped me without question.”

“Hmm, not entirely without question.” His amusement faded, replaced with a rather grave expression. “What were you doing on Earth?”

My mouth went dry. “I…can’t tell you. I’m sorry.” I felt bad denying him, for I did trust him. Perhaps like his power, some things needed to remain secret between us a little while longer.

He frowned but otherwise didn’t press me. Instead he motioned for us to leave for our Weaving, where he kept his word and gave me ample time to plan a dream with the flowers I already had in my bag. The task took longer than I wanted, for I couldn’t help but keep stealing glances at him, the warm feeling in my chest expanding with each one, a sensation so pleasant I didn’t even mind when I lost another Weaving.

Something was shifting between us, and I was both eager and terrified to examine what it was.

Chapter 21

I felt strangely shy around Darius after his help. When he arrived for our next Weaving, I expected an interrogation about what my jar contained and why his mother had felt the need to confiscate it, still baffled he hadn’t demanded an answer the day before, but he merely offered a friendly smile and settled down to wait for me, as he usually did.

The following Weavings were all the same—he didn’t press for information and he continued assisting me, frequently pausing during his own dream construction to give advice or demonstrate a technique; one night he even stayed after another one of his wins to help me construct the blueprint for my upcoming dream and cut my supply of flowers in half. Whenever his gaze—which became progressively softer with each passing night—met mine, the same strange bubbling warmth I’d felt before seeped through my entire body, making it increasingly difficult to focus.

Tonight I tried to focus on my weaving, but it was nigh impossible with my swirling thoughts trying to work out the puzzle as to why Darius had been helping me—both in my Weavings and protecting my secrets from the Nightmare Council. Could our tentative friendship really be more important to him than winning?

As if I could discover the answers from him, I peeked up from tonight’s dream and was disappointed to find him concentrating on his own, tucking his nightmare flowers into his quilt as effortlessly as if he were arranging a bouquet.

Our eyes met. “Do you need any more help?”

My cheeks burned and I hastily returned to my dream, but I sensed his smirk, as well as the heat of his gaze, watching me. My hand shook, causing me to need to unpick my stitches several times.

He trimmed a loose thread and held up his dream, large and intimidating. “Finished. How’s yours?” He glanced over. I was still attempting to stitch my first flowers together, not to mention the hill of images waiting impatiently beside me. “Is that all you’ve done?”

I threw aside my unformed dream and my already loose threads pulled apart. “What’s the point? No matter how much you help, we both know your nightmare will beat mine. It always does.”

“Don’t talk that way, Nemesis. You make me feel guilty for being more talented.” He pinched his fingers close together. “Though only slightly.”

I scowled. “Don’t rub it in.”

His cocky expression softened. “Here, let me. I haven’t been assisting you throughout our entire partnership to give up now.” The dream flowers’ petals coiled at his Nightmare touch as he picked them up. “You have a tendency to weave anywhere. Rather than stitching in an arbitrary place, connect the flowers at a similar detail—they’ll be less likely to break, especially when competing with a nightmare.”

He demonstrated, attaching the two flowers’ auras—a rainbow and a bubble—at the blue hue they shared. Immediately, the images fused together, leaving the stitches as an afterthought. “See how they’re stronger when the flowers are connected at a similar detail? Try it with these two flowers.” He pointed to a lullaby flower and one designed to draw its detail from a Mortal’s memory before consulting my dream blueprint floating beside us. “Since you’re planning on using this memory-retrieval flower on the sound of Maci’s mother singing her to sleep, I suggest using the chain stitch on each note; it’s flexible and will match the fluid movement of the music, causing it to sound more realistic.”

I took my forming dream with a sigh. “You really are a talented Weaver.” How aggravating that his constant bragging was justified.

“Of course,” he said. “But I was trained at the Academy. You’re doing remarkably well considering your limited training.”

Was that actually a compliment? My heart beat faster as I returned to my weaving. “I’m surprised the