hard lips pressed to mine. A familiar scent flooded my head. “Wake up, baby girl.”
“You’re not here,” I whispered. “Not here…he said you wouldn’t come.”
Hot hands caught my face. “Open your eyes, Kit. I did come. We all came.”
Damon’s mouth pressed to mine, the taste of him shocking me out of that weird twilight sleep. Jerking back, I stared at him, breath sawing in and out of my lungs.
A dream.
Just a dream.
“Damon.” I started to shiver.
He pulled me in close, but even the heat of him wasn’t enough to warm me. “You’re okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe.”
I clung to him, waiting for the echoes of the dream to fade. Waiting for the feel of him to fade. In the back of my mind, Jude lingered, almost like he lived inside my head.
Son of a bitch, that had been a bad one.
That nauseating reality of what that might mean left me wanting to puke and I turned my face into his chest. I shivered and Damon stroked his hand up my back. “It’s over,” he whispered.
Was it?
How could something that felt that real be over? I could still feel the bruises, the ache of broken bones, the lingering pain between my legs. I could still taste the blood and feel the biting cold from when I’d torn out into the snow.
“Come back to me,” Damon murmured, his lips brushing over my brow.
I huddled against him. Under my cheek, Damon’s chest was hard and warm, rising and falling with every breath he took. I spread my hand wide against his skin, the inky black of his tattoo so dark under my hand.
“Sorry,” I muttered. I hated this, how vulnerable—how raw I still felt. “Shit. I hate this. I hate it —”
“Don’t.” His hand tangled in my hair as he spoke the word against my temple. His voice was low, raw, like he had to force it out. His chest shuddered on a ragged breath and then he spoke again, “We all have nightmares. Don’t apologize for yours.”
“It’s…” I squeezed my eyes closed, focused on the beat of his heart. “It’s not just the nightmares. It just…Damon, these feel…” I stopped, shook my head. I wasn’t explaining this in front of him. I needed to talk to somebody, yes. But not Damon. Not now. “I can’t explain it.”
His hand smoothed down my back, gripped my hip. “Try.”
Of course he wouldn’t just let it go. But there was all sorts of wrong I could detail without lying. Blowing out a sigh, I forced myself to open my eyes, staring out into the dim room. “They won’t stop. If the nightmares don’t stop, maybe I’ll never feel like me. If they’d just stop…”
I let that one fear out. It was a true fear, one that choked me, haunted me. Even as it left me, I wanted to pull it back. Would he even understand?
“You’re going to beat this,” he said when my voice trailed off. “You’re too strong not to.”
Closing my eyes, I turned my face back into his chest. It seems like he almost always understood. A sigh shuddered out of me.
“What scares you?”
It came out of me without me realizing I even wanted to know.
His odd silence had me looking up but his gaze fell away from mine.
I stroked my index finger over his lower lip and waited.
A sigh rumbled out of him and he looked back at me, caught my wrist. “A lot of things. I’ve got my own nightmares, Kit. Losing you—I can’t tell you how many times I’ve woken up remembering the nights you were missing, how it felt to see you on that cliff. I relive it over and over. And there’s…”
He stopped, looked away.
“There’s what?”
Now he did look at me. “I can’t even remember a lot of it. There are nightmares, but they started when I was a kid. Back when I was too young to remember.”
Something clicked. It’s the story of me…what put me on the road that made me what I am —
The tattoos…
“Does this have anything to do with your family?”
A shudder fell across his eyes. “You see too much sometimes.” Then he pressed his brow to mine. “I don’t
“You’re not here,” I whispered. “Not here…he said you wouldn’t come.”
Hot hands caught my face. “Open your eyes, Kit. I did come. We all came.”
Damon’s mouth pressed to mine, the taste of him shocking me out of that weird twilight sleep. Jerking back, I stared at him, breath sawing in and out of my lungs.
A dream.
Just a dream.
“Damon.” I started to shiver.
He pulled me in close, but even the heat of him wasn’t enough to warm me. “You’re okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe.”
I clung to him, waiting for the echoes of the dream to fade. Waiting for the feel of him to fade. In the back of my mind, Jude lingered, almost like he lived inside my head.
Son of a bitch, that had been a bad one.
That nauseating reality of what that might mean left me wanting to puke and I turned my face into his chest. I shivered and Damon stroked his hand up my back. “It’s over,” he whispered.
Was it?
How could something that felt that real be over? I could still feel the bruises, the ache of broken bones, the lingering pain between my legs. I could still taste the blood and feel the biting cold from when I’d torn out into the snow.
“Come back to me,” Damon murmured, his lips brushing over my brow.
I huddled against him. Under my cheek, Damon’s chest was hard and warm, rising and falling with every breath he took. I spread my hand wide against his skin, the inky black of his tattoo so dark under my hand.
“Sorry,” I muttered. I hated this, how vulnerable—how raw I still felt. “Shit. I hate this. I hate it —”
“Don’t.” His hand tangled in my hair as he spoke the word against my temple. His voice was low, raw, like he had to force it out. His chest shuddered on a ragged breath and then he spoke again, “We all have nightmares. Don’t apologize for yours.”
“It’s…” I squeezed my eyes closed, focused on the beat of his heart. “It’s not just the nightmares. It just…Damon, these feel…” I stopped, shook my head. I wasn’t explaining this in front of him. I needed to talk to somebody, yes. But not Damon. Not now. “I can’t explain it.”
His hand smoothed down my back, gripped my hip. “Try.”
Of course he wouldn’t just let it go. But there was all sorts of wrong I could detail without lying. Blowing out a sigh, I forced myself to open my eyes, staring out into the dim room. “They won’t stop. If the nightmares don’t stop, maybe I’ll never feel like me. If they’d just stop…”
I let that one fear out. It was a true fear, one that choked me, haunted me. Even as it left me, I wanted to pull it back. Would he even understand?
“You’re going to beat this,” he said when my voice trailed off. “You’re too strong not to.”
Closing my eyes, I turned my face back into his chest. It seems like he almost always understood. A sigh shuddered out of me.
“What scares you?”
It came out of me without me realizing I even wanted to know.
His odd silence had me looking up but his gaze fell away from mine.
I stroked my index finger over his lower lip and waited.
A sigh rumbled out of him and he looked back at me, caught my wrist. “A lot of things. I’ve got my own nightmares, Kit. Losing you—I can’t tell you how many times I’ve woken up remembering the nights you were missing, how it felt to see you on that cliff. I relive it over and over. And there’s…”
He stopped, looked away.
“There’s what?”
Now he did look at me. “I can’t even remember a lot of it. There are nightmares, but they started when I was a kid. Back when I was too young to remember.”
Something clicked. It’s the story of me…what put me on the road that made me what I am —
The tattoos…
“Does this have anything to do with your family?”
A shudder fell across his eyes. “You see too much sometimes.” Then he pressed his brow to mine. “I don’t
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