“Jasmine.” The voice was soft, careful, nothing like the smooth poison of my nightmare. “Honey, it's me. It's Theo.”
The words filtered through my panic slowly, like water seeping through cracks. Theo. Not Bane. I blinked hard, trying to force my eyes to adjust to the darkness, trying to see past the lingering images of the nightmare.
“I'm going to turn on the lamp,” he said, still in that gentle voice. “Just the bedside one. Nice and slow, okay?”
I nodded, then realized he probably couldn't see me. “Okay,” I whispered, my voice wrecked and hoarse from crying.
Warm light bloomed in the darkness, soft and golden from the lamp on my nightstand. I squinted against it, and Theo's face came into focus. He was sitting in the chair beside my bed—the same one Kade had pulled close earlier. His dark eyes held concern but no pity.
Real. He was real. This was real.
I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapped my arms around them, and tried to breathe. My whole body still trembled, fine shakes I couldn't control, and fresh tears tracked down my cheeks to join the ones already drying there.
Theo leaned forward slightly, his massive frame somehow managing not to seem threatening even in the small space. “Bad dream?” he asked quietly.
A laugh that was more sob escaped me. Bad dream. As if that phrase could encompass the horror I'd just experienced, the visceral reality of being dragged back, of reliving the worst moments of my life in vivid detail.
“Yeah,” I managed. “Bad dream.”
He nodded, like that made perfect sense, like he understood without me having to explain. His hands rested on his knees, fingers laced together, and he made no move to come closer. Just waited, patient and steady.
“I heard you crying out,” he said after a moment.
My breathing was slowing, the sharp gasps evening out into something closer to normal. I focused on Theo's face, using it to pull myself further from the nightmare's grip. The scar, the warmth in his dark eyes, the slight stubble on his jaw. Details that belonged to the present, to reality, to safety.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked, but there was no pressure in the question. Just an offer I could accept or refuse.
I shook my head. Talking about it would make it more real, would drag me back into those memories. “I just want to forget it,” I whispered.
“Okay.” He shifted his weight, the chair creaking slightly. “What can I do to help?”
The question made my throat tight. When was the last time someone had asked me that? Asked what I needed, what would make me feel better, without expecting something in return?
I looked at him, at this Alpha who'd been nothing but gentle with me, who'd held me earlier while I'd cried and promised I was safe. The words wanted to stick in my throat, pride and fear warring with desperate need.
“Stay?” The word came out small, barely audible, a child's plea in the darkness. “Please?”
Theo's expression softened, something that might have been relief flickering across his features. “Of course.” He stood slowly, giving me time to change my mind, to take it back. “May I?”
He gestured to the bed, asking permission even though I'd invited him. The courtesy of it made my chest ache.
I nodded and shifted over, making room. The bed was large enough that we wouldn't have to touch if I didn't want to, enough space for boundaries and distance.
Theo rounded the bed and slid under the covers beside me. The mattress dipped under his weight, and I felt the warmth radiating from him even through the space between us. His leather scent reached me, mixing with something else—maybe soap or the laundry detergent on his clothes—creating a combination that my brain cataloged as safe.
We lay there for a moment, both on our backs, staring at the ceiling. I could hear his breathing, steady and even, and I tried to match mine to it. In, out. In, out. Simple and reliable as a heartbeat.
“Can I hold you?” he asked quietly. “Or would you rather I stay over here?”
The question should have scared me. Being held by an Alpha, being vulnerable in bed with one, my body still shaking from a nightmare about my old pack. But instead of fear, I felt a wave of longing so intense it hurt.
“Hold me,” I whispered, and felt the last of my pride crumble. “Please.”
Theo moved immediately but carefully, rolling onto his side and wrapping his arms around me. He pulled me back against his chest, tucking me into the curve of his body, and the solid warmth of him surrounded me like armor.
His arm settled across my waist, heavy, real, and grounding. “I've got you,” he murmured against my hair. “You're safe now. I promise.”
One of his hands came up to stroke through my tangled hair, fingers moving with surprising gentleness. His fingers soothed my hair with long, slow strokes from my crown down to where my hair ended at my shoulders.
