Amelia swallowed as she brought her hands down. But instead of covering her breasts or pushing me away, she raked her fingers through my hair, pushing it away from my face. “You’re dangerous, but you’re good.”
Moonlight leakedthrough the curtains as we reached the witching hour.
I had fallen asleep. I had woken up. I had checked the locks and windows. I had fallen back asleep. And I had done the whole damn routine four times since Amelia and I went to bed.
After our tryst in the woods, the two of us had returned to our separate corners. Amelia took advantage of the playing cards I bought and tested her ability to maintain a running count while I sat on my side of the cabin with a notebook and pen in hand.
After dinner, we took turns rinsing off in the matchbox shower. I had hoped that the water would wash away my demons, but I was a fool.
I slept for approximately forty minutes before my body woke up like clockwork, anxiety urging me to make my rounds, to make sure she was as safe as possible.
Cole and I really should have put cameras out here . . .
But cameras were also a liability. Any electronic system—even a highly encrypted one—could be hacked or traced.
Living off the grid was better, even if it was less convenient.
I stared at the ceiling, trying to will myself to go back to sleep, when Amelia’s sharp gasp startled me out of the twilight zone.
“No,” she whimpered in her sleep. “No—no!” She kicked at the covers, thrashing as if she was fighting an invisible assailant. “Please!”
Her words were barely coherent, slurred by the nightmare. But the pain on her face—that was all too real.
I eased off the couch and crept toward the bed. “Amelia,” I said softly. “Wake up.”
She swung and rolled, battling her own kind of demons.
“Amelia,” I said a little louder as I laid my hand on her hip. “Wake up. You’re dreaming.”
“Please don’t hurt him,” she cried. “Please—I’ll?—”
I caught her right hand as she swung her arm. Her palm landed in mine, but her left fist landed a punch straight to the middle of my chest.
“Amelia, wake up,” I barked. I wasn’t the least bit bothered that she had punched me. Why wasn’t she waking up?
I grabbed her hand, isolated her thumb, and used my fingernail to press against her nail bed. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation, but it was effective.
She gasped in pain as she came to. “What—” Watery eyes lifted to mine.
“You were dreaming.”
“You’re here,” she rasped. I couldn’t tell if it was shock or fear. Then she reached for me as tears rolled down her face.
I moved without thinking, climbing into bed with her.
“What was your dream?”
Amelia stammered, then shook her head.
“Say it out loud,” I said gently as I smoothed my hand up and down her back. “It helps it not come back.”
“V-Valentine,” she croaked. “He h-had me and Joel. I kept screaming for you and you weren’t there.”
I kissed the back of her head and wrapped her up in my arms. “I’m right here. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”
Her lashes were speckled with glittering tears. “Promise?”
I sank into the mattress, holding her tight against my chest. “Promise.” I kissed her temple. “You’re safe with me.”
