Read Online The Three Fates of Ryan Love by Erin Quinn - Free Book Online Page B

stomach. After a moment, her eyes adjusted and she could see his face.
    â€œWhat?” he said without opening his eyes.
    â€œNothing. It’s just . . . I’ve never slept alone before.”
    And I’m scared to do it now.
    A wave of something close to humiliation closed in on her. The Sisters’ oracles had few freedoms and fewer indulgences. Like privacy. Someone had always monitored her sleep.
    â€œThere’s nothing to it,” Ryan said with a yawn. “Just lie down. Close your eyes.”
    â€œAnd after that?”
    â€œSleep, if you’re lucky.”
    She shifted her feet, fingering the hem of her shirt. “What if you’re not lucky?”
    His lashes lifted and the smoky green gleamed in the dim light.
    Before he could speak, she said, “I know you seem to enjoy it. You like to nap.” The corners of her mouth tilted at memories of him stretched out on his couch, Brandy curled up at the end, both oblivious to the TV flashing and blaring. “You can sleep through anything.”
    His eyes narrowed. She felt it across the room and knew she’d slipped up, revealed something Ryan wouldn’t let go.
    â€œHow do you know that?” he asked.
    She lifted a shoulder and said as casually as she could, “I must have seen you.”
    Ryan shifted his weight, coming up on one arm. “Seen me when?”
    Her mouth was dry, her throat tight. She didn’t know how to backtrack out of it, so she shook her head and plunged on. “It doesn’t matter.”
    â€œNo way, snowflake. When did you see me? Where?”
    â€œSleeping,” she mumbled. “I told you. I see.”
    Those intelligent eyes watched her, and she knew she hadn’t fooled him. She hadn’t merely seen him in a vision. She’d watched him, summoned visions of him like a lovesick girl with her first crush. She’d been told that no other oracle could do such a thing, call a vision like humans called their friends, see the world as it was, not as it would be. Peel reality back just to watch the minutiae of day-to-day life. His life.
    Ryan noted her evasive gaze and busy fingers before she could still them. He was figuring things out—things she’d never intended for him to know.
    â€œYou’ve watched me,” he said. Or asked. She couldn’t tell.
    â€œYes,” she admitted because she knew lying would only make it worse.
    â€œBy that you mean you’ve had . . . it’s been in your . . . ?”
    â€œVisions,” she offered helpfully.
    Suddenly, a hasty retreat seemed the wisest option. But the room behind her loomed like a nightmare of its own. So big. So empty. So far from Ryan.
    â€œWhy would you watch me sleep?”
    It was the only time he let down his guard. The only time he looked relaxed. Peaceful. The young man who lived beneath the weight of responsibility emerged then. She could— had— watched him sleep for hours.
    â€œI was simply trying to understand,” she bluffed. Convincingly, she thought. “You work half the night, prowl the rest of it. It’s only in the early hours of the morning that you go to bed.”
    And so many times, not alone.
    He tipped his head, as if listening. For a moment, she feared she’d said it out loud. Quickly, she rushed on.
    â€œFor someone like me, someone with the sight, sleep is a time for visions. We’re monitored and awakened whenever our brains are active.”
    â€œWe?”
    She bit her tongue. She should stop talking. Now. She had little experience with deception and Ryan was too skilled at seeing it. She was ill equipped on too many levels. She glanced over her shoulder. The empty room behind her seemed cavernous.
    â€œI am one of many seers,” she confessed.
    â€œHow many?”
    â€œThirty-three.”
    He whistled softly. “They’re prisoners, too?”
    She nodded. “It’s my hope that