I’m paralyzed.
Then hands on my leg, not gentle or soft.
It hurts.
My breath locks in my chest…
I jerk awake.
A scream tears out of me before I can stop it, my whole body snapping tight, heart pounding so hard it feels like it might split my chest open.
“Shh, shh, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. It’s just a fever dream.”
The voice cuts through everything, low and steady, grounding.
Strong hands find my shoulders, firm but careful, holding me in place without forcing me down.
“I’m here. Nothing can hurt you.”
I suck in a breath that burns all the way down, my lungs struggling to catch up as I shake under the blankets.
“Hey. Look at me.”
I can’t.
I don’t want to.
But then I breathe in.
Cedarwood. Smoke. Something warm and steady.
Real.
My eyes snap open.
Dex is right there.
Close enough that I can see the tension in his jaw, the focus in his eyes, the way his hands stay steady on me like he’s bracing for me to fall apart.
My breathing stutters, then slows, each inhale a little less sharp than the last.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs again, quieter now, one hand sliding up to the back of my neck, steadying me as I tremble. “You’re safe.”
The word lands differently this time.
Safe.
I don’t remember the last time I felt that.
The room settles around me, the faint hum of the heater, the weight of the blankets, the steady presence in front of me keeping everything from spinning too far out of control.
His hand presses briefly to my forehead, checking, grounding, before his thumb brushes lightly over my cheek.
Then he pulls back.
Just enough.
Like he’s remembering himself.
