Besides, her yearning for him wasn’t something she should act on—not after everything he had done to her. He had still forced her to marry him. He was still controlling her life and trying to dictate what she could and couldn’t do.
He’s apologized, though,a voice pointed out.He’s gotten better, and he listens to you when you call him out for something.
She could feel Cillian’s eyes on her back as she cleaned. Pink spread across her cheeks, and she kept her head bent so he couldn’t see it.
“I’ll have that bread ready as quickly as I can,” she said, trying to keep her tone cheerful and even despite the myriad of emotions—confusion, relief, want—rippling through her.
“Yeah,” Cillian said. “Sounds good.”
She refused to turn around. After a moment, she heard Cillian turn away to tend to the chili.
Chapter 11 - Cillian
A scream echoed through the pitch-black house. Cillian shot up in bed, instantly awake. All his military training flew back to him, his body on high alert. He jumped out of bed, shaking the final remnants of grogginess from his head, orienting himself.
The scream had come from Amber’s room. He sprinted down the hall, expecting to see Eric or one of his cronies looming over her. Outside, the moon was high overhead. It couldn’t be much later than one in the morning. Without knocking or thinking about privacy, he burst into the bedroom.
There was no Eric, no shadowy figure dragging Amber out of bed. It was just Amber, thrashing in bed. She was frowning, her forehead creased as she tossed back and forth, whimpering.
The relief of seeing her in bed with no intruder lurking in the shadows quickly evaporated as Amber whimpered and groaned, continuing to writhe in her sleep. She was having a nightmare. Judging by her expression and the way she continued squirming and mumbling, it was a bad one.
“Amber?” He took her shoulders and shook her gently. “Amber?”
She didn’t respond. Instead, she continued thrashing beneath the sheets, muttering nonsense. Desperate to get her up, he shook her harder, hoping that he could jostle her out of whatever nightmare was gripping her.
Her fist flew up and slammed into his nose.
“Ow! Fuck!” He reeled back for a moment, one hand going to his now-throbbing face, the other still trying to nudge her awake. “Amber! Wake up.”
Her eyes finally flew open. She gasped, chest heaving, eyes wide as they darted everywhere, hunting for something.
“It’s all right,” Cillian murmured.
Her gaze slid to him. She blinked, surprised and confused.
“It was just a dream. You’re all right.”
Her eyes darted around, hunting for something in the shadows, eyes still far away as she dragged herself out of the nightmare. Her heaving breaths began to slow, and her eyes eventually fell on Cillian sitting on the edge of her bed, watching her.
“Cillian?” she asked, still dazed, still half asleep. “What’s going on?”
“You were having a nightmare,” he said.
“I was?” Her brow knitted together.
“Do you not remember?” he asked. His nose ached.
She frowned, chest still rising and falling with each heavy breath. He watched her. Her shoulders stiffened when she was able to dredge up whatever dream had frightened her so much.
“I do now,” she said, rubbing her face. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“People who have nightmares don’t usually have much control over stuff like that,” Cillian said.
“Still. I’m sorry if I was a bother.”
“Not in the slightest. You, uh, have quite the cross, by the way.” He rubbed his still-throbbing nose. Her brows knitted together for a moment, then her eyes flew wide as comprehension dawned.
“Oh, God.” Her hand covered her mouth. “Did I…?”
