He looked left and right as he stepped into the bedroom, finger poised on the trigger of his weapon, preparing himself for absolute carnage. But as he swept the room, he found it was empty except for Rachel. She was sitting with her back against the headboard, looking terrified. Even though he was standing right in front of her, it was like she didn’t see him.
Rachel was dressed in a long T-shirt, her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around her head like she was trying to shield her ears from a noise as tears ran down her face. Her claws and fangs were extended, and she was clutching two guns in her hands. He looked for signs of violence, but there wasn’t a mark on her. He frantically looked around again, trying to find whatever the hell had attacked her.
Knox was peeking under the bed when another heartrending scream tore through him. The sound was filled with so much pain and terror that he stopped worrying about whatever—or whoever—had done this to her and hurried over to her.
Even though he’d made no effort to move quietly up to this point, it wasn’t until the mattress dipped under his weight that Rachel seemed to realize someone was in the apartment with her. Both arms snapped straight, two automatics pointed at his face, her fingers tense on the triggers.
“Rachel, it’s me,” he said as firmly but calmly as he possibly could considering the barrels of two weapons were aimed at him.
She must have recognized it was him because her arms slowly lowered until she dropped both weapons onto the bed. Before Knox could take a breath to ask if she was okay, Rachel threw herself into his arms, deep sobs shaking her whole body.
Knox wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close even as Rachel crawled into his lap and buried her face against his chest. He desperately wanted to know what had happened, but he knew she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. So he holstered his Glock, carefully moved Rachel’s weapons to the nightstand, then focused on calming her down. He sucked at stuff like this, but he did his best, rocking her gently, rubbing his hands softly up and down her back, and making quiet shushing sounds he hoped were soothing.
“It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”
He knew the words were absolute babble, but he kept saying them over and over because he had to do something. Hearing her cry was more painful than almost anything he’d ever experienced in his life—like every tear that fell from her cheeks carried a piece of his soul with it.
He must have been better at this comforting thing than he realized because after a few minutes, Rachel’s sobs began to fade to whimpers, then slow to exhausted sighs. Only after her heart rate returned to normal and her breathing became regular did he finally ask the question he needed her to answer.
“What happened, Rachel? Who did this to you?”
When she didn’t answer right away, Knox thought she’d fallen asleep, but then he felt warm air brush against his neck and realized she was trying to speak. But her words were so thready and fragile, it was almost impossible to hear them, even for a werewolf.
“My nightmare came to life and tried to kill me,” she whispered.
Knox pulled back a bit to see her face, waiting for her to say more—something that would help him understand what she’d meant. But when all she did was gaze up at him with broken, fear-filled eyes, he knew if he wanted to know more, he would have to ask.
“You mean you had another nightmare? Is that what happened?”
He said the words carefully, not wanting to make it seem like he was making light of what she was going through. People threw the termnightmarearound like it was something trivial, and he supposed that for some, their nightmares were little more than bad dreams. But he knew firsthand how powerfully incapacitating they could be. How it almost seemed like they could pull the life from a person.
Rachel hesitated. “I guess so, but it seemed so real. The clown was here.” She stopped, looking confused, then shook her head. “Or I thought he was here. I could see his face in the mirror, and the glass of the microwave—everywhere. He told me that I’ll never get away from him.”
Tears spilled down her face again, and Knox pulled her in close. “Shh. It’s okay.”
“I’m scared, Knox,” she sobbed against his chest. “It’s like I’m going insane and it’s getting worse every day. I can’t handle this on my own anymore.”
Knox recognized the symptoms of extreme PTSD. He’d seen it before—he’d felt it before. The nightmare of that damn clown’s attack was tearing her apart from the inside out.
He wrapped his arms around her more tightly, wanting to somehow protect her from every horrible thing that had ever happened to her with nothing more than his physical presence. “You don’t have to handle this on your own. I’ve got you and I won’t let anything happen to you. We’ll get you help and get through this together.”
They sat like that for a long time, Knox holding her close while she cried. When it seemed as if she was too exhausted to cry anymore, he felt her body relax until he was sure she’d fallen asleep. He held her a few minutes longer, then started to reposition her on the bed, figuring she’d be able to sleep better if he covered her with the blankets.
But the moment his arms loosened, her eyes shot open, full of panic. “Don’t let me go!” she practically shouted. “When you hold me, he feels far away and I feel safe.”
Knox wanted to check the door to her apartment to make sure it was closed, but he knew he couldn’t do that, at least not right now. So he lay back on the bed and pulled her onto his chest, wrapping her tightly in his arms again. Then he kissed her head and made the same soothing sounds as before.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. “I’m never going to let you go.”
It seemed like only seconds before she was asleep again, and as Knox held her close and watched over her, he realized he’d never felt anything so perfect in his life.
Chapter 10
Rachel woke up wrapped in warmth and comfort so perfect all she wanted to do was lay there and revel in it. Following her instincts, she buried her face deeper into the pillow under her only to realize the pillow was harder than she was used to sleeping on…and had a heartbeat. Lifting her head, she opened her eyes to discover she’d been sleeping on a man’s chest.
She glanced up to see Knox asleep on his back with one arm casually thrown over his head, the other wrapped around her. He looked so edible lying there with the first rays of the morning sun lighting his scruff-roughened jawline.
He’d gotten a blanket over her at some point during the night, but it was the bare, muscular arm tucked around her providing the real warmth…and comfort. A quick check under the aforementioned blanket confirmed she was wearing her favorite orange-and-white Tennessee sleep shirt while Knox had on a pair of tight boxer briefs that were the same deep blue as his T-shirt. She dropped the blanket, guessing that meant they’d actually slept together instead of had sex. Rachel wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed.
