* * *
Marci
Nightmares never arrived in full scenes.Shredded flashes struck first.Mercer’s mouth near my ear.Hands wrapped around my throat, bone-deep certainty he planned to finish what he started.A badge lifted toward someone I couldn’t see.His calm voice labeled me unstable, told strangers he needed to “bring me home,” while I tried to scream without sound.
My body shot upright before thought returned.A trapped scream stayed behind my teeth while my muscles locked in terror.The room looked wrong for a few seconds.Shadows didn’t match memories.The air lacked motel bleach or the faint smell of the hardware store downstairs.A wave of confusion crashed hard.
Recognition arrived slowly.Ace’s house.His bedroom.His bed.
My lungs didn’t accept that truth.Breath came shallow and fast, no matter how my brain insisted I was protected here.Fingers twisted into the sheets -- dark blue cotton carrying his scent and laundry soap.The sensation of Mercer’s palms still clung to my skin.My body refused to believe any room could be safe.
Light broke through the dark as the door opened.I flinched hard, spine hitting the headboard, every nerve ready for impact.
Ace stood in the doorway.No threat.Just Ace.He gripped the frame like his restraint mattered as much as my panic.
“You’re safe.”Sleep roughened his voice, but confidence never wavered.“Marci, you’re safe.”
I nodded because words weren’t possible.He stayed where he was rather than rushing closer.Patience gave my mind room to catch up.My vision adjusted enough to make out bare shoulders, loose sweatpants, and sleep-tousled hair.Somehow he heard me through the door.
“Can I come in?”
Another silent nod.He approached slowly, every step deliberate.No sudden movements.No attempt to loom over me or force comfort.He took a seat on the edge of the mattress, leaving space between us.
He nodded toward the nightstand.“Water is right there.Want some?”
My hand shook so much I nearly tipped the glass.He steadied it, not touching me, just the glass.Cool water washed away the taste of adrenaline and fear.
“He was here,” I whispered.“In the dream.He found me.I tried to tell people what he’d done, and no one listened.”
Ace’s jaw clenched.A muscle twitched near his cheek.“Mercer is nowhere near this house.He isn’t touching you.”
“You don’t know what he can do.”
“I know what I can do.”His tone dropped lower.“He would have to go through me first.Through the club.No way in hell we let someone drag you back to that life.”
A part of me ached to give him everything I was, every fractured piece included.Another part, the scarred and exhausted part, remembered how easily protection failed once before.
My breath stalled again, my chest tightened brutally.Darkness tugged at the edges of my vision, and I clamped my hands around the sheets, then released, reaching for something solid.Instinct drove my palm to his arm.I held on like gravity had turned sideways.
“Breathe.”He angled closer.“In for four.You did it last time.”
Counting didn’t come.Air refused to move.A broken sound scraped out of my throat.
“All right,” he murmured.“Hold on.”
He shifted in steady, deliberate motions, waiting for my reaction at every small adjustment.“I’m going to lie beside you.On top of the covers.Only if you want me there.”
The alternative -- him leaving -- felt far worse.I gave a tiny nod.
He stretched out next to me, body close without trapping me.Warmth spread along my side, steady and safe rather than dangerous.His arm settled above the blanket, creating a barrier strong enough to anchor my spiraling thoughts.
“I’m here,” he whispered near my temple.“Not going anywhere.”
I pressed my forehead into his shoulder before I realized I’d moved.My hand stayed locked around his bicep.His scent and body heat drowned the phantom feel of Mercer’s hands.No cologne.No sweat born of terror.Just Ace.Just safety.
His heartbeat pulsed beneath my cheek -- slow, solid, unshakable.My breath started following the rhythm without effort.In.Out.In.Out.The panic receded inch by inch.He didn’t rush me.He didn’t speak again until my breathing steadied.
“There you go,” he said softly.“You’re doing great.”
